The Biggest Illusion in The Illusionist

Edward Norton, star of the underwhelming The Illusionist, is one of the best actors of his generation and usually his presence alone guarantees a solid, and often spectacular, film. Movies such as Primal Fear and Rounders were fine but potentially forgettable elevated by his tight, sometimes scary, sometimes charming performances. His off-screen conflicts with collaborators over scripts might allude to a challenging, type-A personality, but on screen Norton is almost always a guaranteed winner. Cast him as a Eisenheim, a magician of unbelievable power, opposite Paul Giamatti as the Chief Inspector trying to take him down in turn-of-the-century Vienna, and how can you lose?

Fifteen years after their childhood romance, working-class Eisenheim and Princess Sophie (Jessica Biel) are reunited when he brings his magic show to Vienna, incurring the wrath of Sophie's intended, the jealous Court Prince (Rufus Sewell, having slimy fun despite a laughable moustache that's about to fall off any second). The Prince employs his right-hand man, Uhl (Giamatti), to expose and take down Eisenheim despite his increasing popularity, and a pissing contest emerges between the illusionist and the prince, with each having their own advantages (magic and intelligence vs. power and resources).

Not only were the sporadic accents frustrating (including Norton's), but apparently the filmmakers thought the character of Eisenheim didn't need anything else other than Edward Norton performing really cool magic tricks/illusions/whatever to be interesting. Not to mention that he, the title character around which this is all is supposed to be revolving, disappears for quite some time in the third act. Biel doesn't have much to do, so her performance ends up a stunning triumph of dinner-plate cheekbones and studied posture. Giamatti fares a little better, balancing his child-like awe of Eisenheim while pursuing his duties to bring him down, but even he can't overcome an awful ending with loopholes that even the most amateur filmgoer could drive a horse and carriage through.

The blurry-edged, sepia-tinted cinematography is gorgeous. The score by Philip Glass, while derivative of his work in The Hours and others, is tensely beautiful when it isn't distracting and purposeless (which is more than half the time). But slow pacing and lack of character development give The Illusionist its most impressive magic trick: somehow an Edward Norton movie is boring.