As much as I love film, it had been a while since I was last galvanized in a movie theatre. It seems fewer and fewer films have the ability to grab me, affect me, and engage me as actively as those which originally ingnited my passion for the artform. I couldn't help but wonder if it was the films themselves or how I was approaching them; I'm sure it's a combination of the two, but having just seen
The Prestige, I can no longer say that I've forgotten what it's like to be completely absorbed and awestruck in a theatre.
Action films have spectacle, romances have melodrama, mysteries have, well, mysteries; but it's worth noting when a film like
The Prestige comes along. Certainly, it possesses characteristics of all the three aforementioned genres, but the difference is that it impressively manages to grab the audience without any of the histrionics to which lesser films must resort. Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman are so good in their roles as competing magicians that the active involvement we have in the film stems not from their "how'd he do it?" sleights of hand, but from the passion which inspires them. I am notoriously disinterested in plots which hinge entirely upon my piecing together seemingly disparate details in order to solve a mystery before the film explains it to me -- I'd much rather have Peter Lorre in
M than a taunting cipher whose identity I mustn't be told until the final reel -- and yet I was excited to disentangle the film's secrets halfway through; disheartened when it threw me off the scent; jubilant when it showed I was right from the start; and ultimately exhilarated to learn that there were even more nearly overlooked facets to the grand illusion.
Jackman and Bale's motivations -- love, revenge, sometimes mere showmanship -- are complex enough that there is no point in the film when we may sit back and state, conclusively, This is the character I am rooting for. Scarlett Johansson's is a pivotal role, and it is possibly her best performance to date, but hers is a character who almost too obviously services the plot. And though Piper Perabo, as Jackman's late wife, is undoubtedly the catalyst for essentially the entire film, her small role -- and the script's judicious references back to her -- adds more depth to the nature of the rivalry. What begins as a widower avenging the death of his wife degrades into petty oneupmanship. He is truly and deeply hurt by the loss of his wife, yes, but he also uses it as an excuse to indulge his competitive nature and his desire for esteem, for renown, for prestige; it is a testament to both the script and the performance that neither of these forces is allowed to overshadow the other.
Overall, an excellent film, and quite possibly Nolan's best -- which after
Memento and
Insomnia (hell, even
Batman Begins and
Following) is no small praise.