Resistance Is Not Futile: The Illusionist

The 2006 film The Illusionist had the bad luck of coming out at the same time as another movie about a magician in Belle Epoque Europe, The Prestige, starring Hugh Jackman. But while The Prestige was an enjoyable puzzle movie with a twist ending, I've always preferred The Illusionist, which pitted Edward Norton's peasant magician Eisenheim against Rufus Sewell as Crown Prince Leopold, heir to the Austro-Hungarian empire.

Leopold is ambitious and cruel. He is engaged to Sophie, Eisenheim's childhood love, and she is terrified of him. The film follows Eisenheim's attempts to free her from Leopold, including a tense scene in which Eisenheim briefly humiliates Leopold during a magic show. From that moment on, Leopold, with his pride and hatred, is determined to destroy Eisenheim.

What I like about The Illusionist is its theme of power. Leopold has everything he needs to destroy the lives of these two innocent people: power, money, an army, spies, control of vast resources. This shot illustrates this dynamic: Leopold has the fancy uniform, the luxuries of the palace, servants, the army generals, and Sophie herself, all on his side of the frame. Eisenheim is alone on the right, in his simple black suit. He has only himself.

But it may be that he is enough. He has resources that are less obvious and impressive but ultimately very powerful: talent, public support, fame. In this historical moment where resistance seems futile, he finds ways to resist. This is the basis of so many of our oldest stories: from David standing against the superior Philistine army to John McClane taking down the terrorists at Nakatomi Tower. The Illusionist is a beautiful version of that essential tale.

Why Emma Stone Should Win an Oscar

The great onscreen duo of Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling light up La La Land, an amazing joyride and my favorite movie of the year. These two are the improbable successors to Tracy and Hepburn. I mean, just look:

Of all the awards I'd most like to see La La Land receive at the Oscars, the one I hope for the most is an acting award for Emma Stone. The final scene of the movie shows why.

The movie is rich with the ingredients that make great cinema. Look at the lighting, the color, the composition of this shot:

Or the freshness and energy of this one:

Throughout the movie, Stone and Gosling dance, sing, emote, and dazzle. They play scenes that are playful, poignant, creative, sad, energetic—everything. But nowhere is Stone's talent more evident than in the last scene, in which her character, Mia, performs at an audition for what could be a breakthrough part. We've seen Mia pursue her acting career with varying levels of humiliation and dashed hopes, and this feels like her last chance. She comes into the audition room, and there is no direction and no script. The producers ask her to just  . . . perform.

The whole lengthy scene is as plain as can be. Stone is wearing a simple, pale gray sweater. There is no set design, no clever cinematography. It is just Stone standing in front of a blank wall. And she begins to talk: "My aunt used to live in Paris . . ." Her plain talk soon evolves into a light, sweet song, and we're off. For minutes on end, we do nothing but look at her face and hear her voice, and it's magic.

Emma Stone is unprepossessing in appearance here, but that's the point: the ineffability of talent. The whole movie is a demonstration of the joys of art: the dancing, the music, the emotion, the visuals. But the director seems to be saying, in this last scene, that art isn't a matter of tricks and spectacle. You can take away all of the yummy treats that the movie has offered and be left with one single, simple offering, and it's still a feast.