Skip to main content

Magical Movies

Back in 2006, two movies came out. (Okay, a lot more than two movies came out. But I'm only looking at two of them today.)

The Prestige


and The Illusionist.



I remember watching The Prestige and loving it. Four years later, I've finally watched The Illusionist. Also loved it (thank you, Jonathan for a great Christmas gift two years ago!). They're surprisingly similar for movies that came out within two months of each other:

  • Period pieces set in 19th century Europe.
  • Magicians are the main characters.
  • Women complicate things. (Two actresses I wish were classier, for the record.*)
  • Illusions are amazing and stupefying.
  • Plot twists abound.

I'm not sure what it is that sucked me in to both flicks. Perhaps the lovely costumes. Perhaps the thrill of illusions and wondering how it all works. Perhaps because the stories aren't as easy to predict as most. I like having to try.


I'm ill-qualified to review either movies with any more critical thought than this...and feel like I'm not thinking with my best brain-power either (I blame this lingering malaise).

But I will comment that Amelia is one of my favourite friends to watch movies with, because she is so agreeable when it comes to my random remarks and commentary.

THAT is a lovely dress.
- Yup.

That scene? Entirely so that we'll like Eisenheim. So when he gets in trouble, we want him to win.
- Hm. I can see that. He IS a good man.
That's what they want us to think!

You know, I've never found a goatee so attractive before.
- Yeah, it does look good.
(we admire Edward Norton's facial hair for a moment)

You know, she's quite beautiful.
- Yup. Makes me feel great...
(we admire Jessica Biel's perfection for a moment)
(why are we girls like this?)


Ooh, she's wearing pants!
- She's very democratic, remember?

Amelia hates magic because she knows that it's a trick. I like magic for that very reason. I find it fascinating (and sometimes creepy) that we can be deceived so thoroughly. To get really deep for just a moment, how do we know can we trust our experiences?

I think too much.

I need to end this ramble somewhere, so I will ask two questions.
1. If you've seen both movies, which do you like better? Why?
2. What are your thoughts on magic/illusion - like/dislike? Are magicians charlatans or masters of a craft?


*I think what makes me less than enthused about Jessica Biel and Scarlett Johansson is that they both seem happy with their status and reputations as sex symbols...my thoughts on which could easily turn into another entry altogether. Perhaps someday soon.

Comments

  1. First off for any who haven't seen either. . . .

    **SPOILER ALERT**

    I personally enjoyed the Illusionist better. Alot fewer of the minor illusions are revealed, and the ones that are, are merely illusions, and nothing more, as well the the major plot involves one massive trick, an illusion of mind blowing proportins.

    The Prestige on the other hand (if I recall correctly, it's been a while since I've watched it) revealed many of their minor illusions, and their major illusions turned out to be, (at least on one side) actual supernatural, un-realistic feats.

    The Illusionist seemed much more believeable and real, yet still maintaing some level of mysticism and un-revealed trickery, making it my personal favorite. That being said, The Prestige was also a great movie, had me on the edge of my seat, I just think The Illusionist was better.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Simone Weil: On "Forms of the Implicit Love of God"

Simone Weil time again! One of the essays in Waiting for God  is entitled "Forms of the Implicit Love of God." Her main argument is that before a soul has "direct contact" with God, there are three types of love that are implicitly  the love of God, though they seem to have a different explicit  object. That is, in loving X, you are really loving Y. (in this case, Y = God). As for the X of the equation, she lists: Love of neighbor  Love of the beauty of the world  Love of religious practices  and a special sidebar to Friendship “Each has the virtue of a sacrament,” she writes. Each of these loves is something to be respected, honoured, and understood both symbolically and concretely. On each page of this essay, I found myself underlining profound, challenging, and thought-provoking words. There's so much to consider that I've gone back several times, mulling it over and wondering how my life would look if I truly believed even half of these thi...

I Like to Keep My Issues Drawn

It's Sunday night and I am multi-tasking. Paid some bills, catching up on free musical downloads from the past month, thinking about the mix-tape I need to make and planning my last assignment for writing class. Shortly, I will abandon the laptop to write my first draft by hand. But until then, I am thinking about music. This song played for me earlier this afternoon, as I attempted to nap. I woke up somewhere between 5 and 5:30 this morning, then lay in bed until 8 o'clock flipping sides and thinking about every part of my life that exists. It wasn't stressful, but it wasn't quite restful either...This past month, I have spent a lot of time rebuffing lies and refusing to believe that the inside of my heart and mind can never change. I feel like Florence + The Machine 's song "Shake it Out" captures many of these feelings & thoughts. (addendum: is the line "I like to keep my issues strong or drawn ?" Lyrics sites have it as "stro...

Esse - Czeslaw Milosz

I'm on a bit of a poetry binge this week, and Monday afternoon found me lying on the luxurious shag rug of a friend's tiny apartment, re-reading some of my favourite poets (ee cummings, William Carlos Williams, Czeslaw Milosz). It is an adventure to re-open a collection and wonder what will pop out, knowing something you've read before will strike you afresh, or you will be reminded of a particularly moving line that you had somehow forgotten. Like this piece from Milosz, which floors me. Every. damn.* time. The first time I read it, I lay in a park with a friend (this same friend who offered me her rug as my reading burrow) and demanded that I share it with her. I spoke it carefully, and then, into the post-reading silence, I slammed the book shut, and dropped it as loudly as I could onto the grass. "I'm never reading anything again," I declared, "What else is there to say?" Esse I looked at that face, dumbfounded. The lights of métro st...