THE ILLUSIONIST review

More than seven years after giving the world his much acclaimed and highly beloved "The Triplets of Belleville", French animation auteur Sylvain Chomet has debuted his follow-up feature film, "The Illusionist". Adapted from a previously unfilmed script by the late, legendary Jacques Tati, "The Illusionist" is a sometimes fun, whimsical but ultimately morose tale of an aging stage magician falling into irrelevance during the early days of rock n' roll - one power among several newfangled forces muscling him out of the once warm spotlight. Animated with the same hand-drawn finesse and natural quality as "Triplets", Chomet's latest film is both a wonder and a journey to behold.
From my vantage point, Chomet has made a tremendous effort to be true to Tati's unique aesthetic and vision. There has been some controversy surrounding this aspect, as Chomet did tweak some aspects of the sacred text (the locale is now Edinburgh rather that Prague). But on the whole, fussing about such altered details is petty in the grand scope of the piece. Chomet has created a fully realized work of his own art, though thoroughly guided all the while by Tati.

Considering that Tati was essentially a silent film comedy stylist who just happened to work exclusively in the age of sound, Chomet, who also favors limited-to-no dialogue storytelling, is an excellent fit for this screenplay. Like Tati's most noteworthy work ("Mon Oncle", "M. Hulot's Holiday" to name a few), Chomet tells the story in wide shots, and lets the pace stand as deliberate. Seeing that "The Illusionist" was conceived by Tati later in life, it should come as no surprise that the film has a very ambling shuffle about it - laid back, but resolved to a certain matter-of-fact pessimism. The film is in no hurry. Indeed, although Chomet has not yet reached fifty years of age, he has crafted a film that fits comfortably into that rare niche known as "old man cinema". (Along with such examples as John Ford's "Cheyenne Autumn" or Billy Wilder's "Buddy Buddy".)

The titular performer, dubbed appropriately enough Tatischeff, makes his way to Edinburgh in hopes of finding better fortune. In tow is a wide-eyed but homey young woman, tagging along out of sheer charm of his stage magic. Her wonder is contagious for a while, until it's not anymore. More to the point, when the girl loses her wonder towards Tatischeff (right around the same time he begins to seriously spoil her with material gifts he can barely afford,) "reality" has set in not just for her (she turns her back on Tatischeff in favor of finding love in the new city as a newly elegant woman) but for the viewer as well.

In a more escapist version of this story, the girl would no doubt find her way into his act, which would be simultaneously revitalized by her effervescence. But this is not that story. Life is hard, relationships are complicated, friendship and life roles come and go, and most of all, magic is fleeting. While the vague dynamic of the initial relationship of the young girl and Tatischeff may frustrate some, we are told all we really need to know. To her, he is a father figure, but he can only ever fail in this role. (It is said that Tati's own regret about his considerable fatherly failings with a daughter of his fueled this material.) Suffice to say, thematically speaking; this is not a "cartoon for kids".

In this age of slam-bang computer animated commercial features, the simple, old world quality of Chomet's animation is refreshingly classic, boasting a handcrafted feel so authentic that a single computer-rendered extreme long shot at the very end is actually jarring. This throwback aesthetic compliments the world-weariness of the tale. Likewise, the film contains so little spoken word that the film doesn't even bother with subtitles. The overall effect is a unique experience at the movies - a hand drawn, silent film peek into the twilight years of man in a world gone by, presented in the modern day.

While "The Illusionist" displays a significant amount of that classic Tati charm, it's also pretty obvious that this tale stems from a place of dejected sorrow. I'm not expert enough to know whether Tati was completely ruled by such emotions in his later years - feelings of having lost all relevance as an artist, watching the world pass one by, etc. - but whatever the case, it's fitting to his memory that this film got made as well as it did, and that it is being widely praised. However, by hitting all these intensely personal grace notes from someone else's source material, Chomet proves to be the true illusionist of the piece, having made the task look easy. "The Illusionist" is a worthy homage to Tati, and one of the year's best films.

- Jim Tudor