The Illusionist (2010)

3.5

U.S. Release Date: TBA
Running Length: 83 Minutes
MPAA Classification: NR
Theatrical Aspect Ratio: 1.85:1
Director: Sylvain Chomet
Screenplay: Sylvain Chomet, Jacques Tati
U.S. Distributor: Sony Pictures Classics

Review by: Carter Moulton

06/15/10

I still haven’t seen Director Sylvain Chomet’s Oscar-nominated film The Triplets of Belleville, but take a look at its trailer and you can quickly conclude that Chomet’s animation isn’t conventional in any sense of the word. In fact, the trailer for The Triplets of Belleville has stuck with me as one of the most unsettling advertisements I’ve ever seen.

Chomet’s follow up, The Illusionist—not to be confused with the 2006 film about Eisenheim—looks similar in animation style to its predecessor but seems less like a circus and more like a quiet, ponderous, even melancholic portrait. The story, which Chomet adapted from Jacques Tati, tells of an old illusionist who is becoming increasingly less relevant. It’s 1959, and entertainment values are changing across the planet. Rock bands are rising, and rabbit-in-the-hat tricks have lost their dazzle. Our protagonist, who remains unnamed throughout—in fact, no characters possess names—travels from London to Edinburgh to seek a venue. On his way, he meets a young girl, and their relationship is the anchor of the story.

The film features little-to-no dialogue—we occasionally get a grunt here and a “Hey!” there. The dialogue isn’t important in Chomet’s film; it’s the visuals that do the talking. Chomet’s style, something of a sketch-and-watercolor look, is about as aesthetically pleasing as it gets. Instead of using dialogue to flesh out his characters, Chomet uses pencil lines, textures, and angles to tell us more about them. His hand-drawn animation is comparable in technique to Henry Selick’s (Coraline) stop-motion animation in that both are exaggerative in both appearance and in motion.

Photo © Sony Pictures Classics

The film’s depiction of Edinburgh, Scotland is the most beautiful element of this film. I’m in Edinburgh as I write this review, and the film captures the city perfectly. Every detail is in place. For instance, we see the old man walk into a building called "Cameo Cinema." After screening this film, I too walked into the Cameo Cinema to see another film at the festival. They got it completely right, from the all-capped white letters to the fringed black of the theater's overhang. In another shot, the most impressive shot of the film, we see from above the entire city of Edinburgh alight at night. We float down, spinning as the city twirls and transcends the frame, surrounding us. It’s an amazing shot, and even though it’s nearly impossible to execute this shot without the help of computers, the computer animation blends brilliantly with the hand drawn material.

There’s a nostalgia that glows like an old lamp in The Illusionist. It alludes to the increased complexity and noise within our society—both by vaguely antagonizing the up-and-coming rock band that haunts the old man and by the simple way in which the story is told. Chomet shows that we don’t need excessive amounts of information to tell a story; too many films today weigh themselves down by giving us too much information. With The Illusionist, we get just what we need: images, moods, and emotion. Color helps create these moods. Both cold tones—pale blue in particular—and warm autumns work to say what our characters think. As the film ends, these emotions linger, and Chomet is successful at constructing little lanterns within us.