David Denby:
In two recent films about professional magicians, “The Illusionist” and “The Prestige,” bodies disappear, apparitions take form onstage, and so on. Simple enough — even a bit glib. A real magician depends on the unity of time and space to make his tricks convincing; a movie disposes of such unities with a cut. In brief, I felt cheated by these clever, narrative-disrupting films. They seem to miss the point. After all, every fiction film is magical — an artifice devoted to “What if?” Movies exist in two dimensions, with a third only implied; they jump all over the place, eliding the tedium of days and hours. A story that successfully combines character, the infinite surfaces of the world, and the values that we live by into a coherent whole is a miracle — and harder to bring off than any of these well-made but slyly irresponsible movies.