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The Illusionist
In our current day and age it is quite difficult to find an Animated Feature of quality that is not a Pixar release (though the people behind Tangled and How to Train Your Dragon will likely disagree). Pixar has become synonymous with animation and 3D excellence making such films as Bee Movie and Astro Boy obsolete and suggesting a certain futility to campaigning a comparable movie for Best Animated Feature. In fact in past years it has been the animated films that shy away from CGI that have garnished the most attention and support for usurping Pixar's awards dominance; think Wallace & Gromit or The Fantastic Mr. Fox. And this year is much the same. Tucked away amongst the CGI behemoths of the major studios is the poignant and beautifully hand animated film The Illusionist; a nostalgic and melancholy experience crafted by Sylvain Chomet and based on a long dormant screenplay by Jacques Tati.
The Illusionist is the simple but sophisticatedly crafted story of an aging magicians’ slow realization of the decline and death of his art. While working in a Parisian nightclub, Tatischeff realizes his magic no longer captivates the younger, and considerably more jaded clientele. Unable to compete with the frenetic rock bands that command the audiences’ attention and befuddled by the youthful world around him Tatischeff retreats first to London and then the Scottish Highlands where he performs for an archaic town that has only just received electricity. Here Tatischeff’s illusions still command an enthusiastic response and he receives the plutonic affection and infatuation of Alice, the teenage maid of the pub where he performs. Enamored, Alice travels with Tatischeff to Edinburgh, believing in her young naiveté that he can simply conjure money, tickets and food whenever they need. However change is in the air. In Edinburgh, Tatischeff once again finds his acted dated and his support waning. Desperate to retain the infatuation of his final supporter, and perhaps to retain some fleeting connection to the world around him, Tatischeff takes up a myriad of small side jobs throughout Edinburgh to support the increasingly meager wages his magic earns him. But progress is unstoppable. Soon Alice becomes distracted, lingering behind during their daily walks to peer at the televisions and other modern trinkets the stores of Edinburgh have to offer and Tatischeff begins the tragic progression towards self exile.
Told completely without legible dialogue, minus a few choice words of French, Scottish and English The Illusionist is a pictorial masterpiece. It allows color, scale and the visceral force of precise and calculated composition to create the compelling and emotive story of one’s man position in the world being eroded by the passage of time. Through its use of film form and scarce dialogue the film evokes nostalgia for a time forgotten; where simpler illusions entertained enthusiastic audiences. The masterful craftsmanship of the drawings speak for themselves as well worth remembered relics of a bygone era, allowing the film to speak both on a personal and allegorical level for the effect of time passing. In this way the film becomes a eulogy to the now seemingly forgotten art of hand drawn animation. In the same way the sympathetic Tatischeff has been pushed out of the public favor by the advance of Rock & Roll so too has the window for classic animation been shut by the release of ostentatious 3D CGI films.
Much a like a child who is asked to throw away his old stuffed animals to make room for a new train set the experience of The Illusionist is not bitter but rather bitter sweet. The pathos-ridden fall of Tatischeff is balanced by the maturation and blossoming of Alice into a young outgoing woman of the new world. The balance of melancholia and whimsical humor allows the film to avoid being outright depressing and also demonstrates the inherent entertainment value to the arts of yesteryear. Rather than condemn the march of modernity the film instead asks, “in valuing the spectacle of advanced technology over the depth of the classic storytelling what becomes lost?” And as an example of the latter The Illusionist firmly states “a plenty”.
Sam Broadwin
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