Now You See Me

Written at the time of the film's conjuration.

"Sometimes The Magic Works, Part 2"
or 
The Slightest of Hands

Bullwinkle: Hey, Rocky!  Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!
Rocky: But that trick NEVER works!

The tagline for Now You See Me, the latest film by Louis Letterier (who brought to you the modern version of Clash of the Titans, a not too bad film, actually, as empty-headed gladiator-myth movies go) is "The closer you look, the less you see," and, even though that's supposed to be saying something about the power of illusion, it couldn't be more appropriate for the movie it's supposed to be selling. You'll get the most out of this movie if you're asleep during it.*  

Better yet, don't get rooked into it, and do the opposite of the film's title and don't see it at all.  Because there's movie-magic, where you feel the sense of wonder and amazement, and there's the kind that just makes you feel that you've been "taken." Now You See Me makes me feel like a rube.

And that's the mastery of marketing. Great cast, with a bunch of actors who've got taste and have done terrific things before...and James Franco's brother, Dave...so there must be something to this, right? I mean, Morgan Freeman and Michael Caine,** Mark Ruffalo, Mélanie Laurent,*** Michael Kelly, and the Zombieland duo of Jesse Eisenberg and Woody Harrelson. No slouches there.  

But the movie is such a drab circling-camera edit-fest (it feels like it was shot on a Roomba) that you know you're being misled somewhere, and you're being made to not think about what's going on on-screen, because, ultimately it makes no sense whatsoever. The point of the movie is distraction, and there the movie succeeds quite well. It's so busy and flashy, you stop thinking and take in the swirling, swooping actors and camera moves, and let them wash over you...and your brain stops. It's only at the end that you realize that the movie is a white-rabbit and it's disappeared, if it even existed in the first place. Orson Welles said movie-making is smoke and mirrors, and there are plenty of mirrors here, but the result is pure smoke.

What's it about? Four street magicians Daniel (Eisenberg) card-sharp, Merrit (Harrelson) a mentalist, Henley (Isla Fisher) escape artist, and Jack (Franco) pick-pocket, all accomplished, all a little larcenous, are recruited by a mysterious presence (who has surreptitiously observed all of them disguised in a hoodie—what, they couldn't see the face?) to form a guerrilla magic team called "The Four Horsemen." They, after a jump of time, go from nothing to large coordinated shows, bankrolled by an insurance tycoon (Caine). The first, in Vegas, involves the seeming transportation of a French citizen to his bank in France, that results in the sucking of millions of euros out of its vault, and spraying it throughout the large theater crowd...as if by magic. This attracts the attention of the FBI in the form of agent Dylan Rhodes (Ruffalo) and Interpol's agent Alma Dray (Laurent), who pursue the clues and try to ascertain how they pulled off the heist. Along the way, they interview Thaddeus Bradley (Freeman), a magic debunker, who has a vested interest in exposing the Horsemen for a series of buzz-kill videos and reality shows. He shows the agents how it was done, then stops there, being very cagey about what the next scam will be.  As it turns out, it's in New Orleans, where Caine's insurance magnate tries to buy off Freeman to no avail.

At this point, you're wondering not about the "how," but the "why?" What's everybody's motivation in this?  Freeman's stakes are relatively paltry—the group has just gotten started, who would care—so you begin to suspect he's behind it all. Caine's interest in unimaginable, as he's putting out a large outlay of disposable cash for events that have no residual value, and leave him open to accessory and fraud charges. And the agents' zeal is largely enigmatic (matching those of the Horsemen). What's everybody in this for, other than to propel the movie? It's a bit like The Sting (which had the guts to put the motivation up front) only skin-deep and with shallow surface-flash. Letterier and script-writers Ed Solomon, Boaz Yakin and Edward Ricourt provide no fore-thought, but just speed things up and turn on the pyrotechnics, so there's no time for questions and little room for answers, while the actors go through their paces with looks of ambivalence so as not to betray anything.

There's not that much to betray. Once everything has been revealed (save for the fate of the Horsemen), there's no satisfaction, only a feeling of emptiness and pointlessness ("Really? All that for that?") and then you begin to question everyone's behavior during the film, which makes no sense given the actions displayed throughout the movie. One almost thinks that the film might have multiple endings, depending on which cineplex you go to, so tenuous is the resolution and back-story.  It doesn't bear close examination.

But then, we were warned. "The closer you look, the less you see."

And it has nothing, absolutely nothing up its sleeve.

Note from James in 2021: There was a sequel—Now You See Me 2. I didn't.
 * No Morgan Freeman jokes, please...

** Well, Michael Caine, he used to sign up for supermarket openings...

*** ...spent the whole movie wondering where I'd seen her before—Inglorious Basterds.

Clash of the Titans (2010)

Written at the time of the Krakken's release...

"There's a Saga Born Every Minute" 

or 

"Let's Get Krakken" 

A new version of Clash of the Titans has opened—as if one was needed. The 1981 Clash is notable as being the last film in the storied career of stop-motion animator Ray Harryhausen,* the puppet-magician, who could trace his work-lineage back to Willis O'Brien, the legendary creator of King Kong. Talk about "Titans." Those of us (of a certain age) think very kindly on the series of British films based on Myth, spear-headed by Harryhausen. Some of us might even get a little misty when we think of the battles staged frame-by-frame between the cinematic stalwarts and Harryhausen's skeletons and other slithering, skittering creatures. 

In the cold light of the critical day, though, one has to admit that, aside from Harryhausen's work (and some legendary Bernard Herrmann film scoring), the movies were a bit stiff dramatically (and not just in the upper-lip department), but they provided adolescent adventure, comely lasses, and were a Colossus' step up from "Hercules" movies. 

Even the original Clash of the Titans, although boasting a cast that contained a pantheon of British thesps on the order of Lord Laurence Olivier, Maggie Smith, Ursula Andress, and Claire Bloom as Olympian Gods, (and Harry Hamlin, Judi Bowker and Burgess Meredith as mere mortals...or demi-gods), only manages to rise above for the camp-nature of the Brit-Theater vets' performances. Desmond Davis' direction is flat, with many vogueing shots of the hero Perseus brandishing his sword with just the right alignment to eclipse the sun, implying its gift-from-gods status. Not very convincing, nor was Judi Bowker as the damsel-in-distress. 

This new version has been in development since the success of Gladiator, with many re-writers (including an uncredited Lawrence Kasdan) and directors. But it wasn't until French director Louis Leterrier (The Transporter, The Incredible Hulk) took it on that the movie emerged from Development Hades. 

And it's surprisingly good. Oh, it's not anybody's idea of an inspired film, and there are moments where Letterier lets things fall flat (the fight with three mystic crones and even the Big Finale fight with the Krakken are staged too frenetically so that important information gets lost in all the flailing). But there's a nifty fight with giant scorpions and a fight with the Medusa are nicely handled. In fact, they reveal a love of the original (and Harryhausen) that's endearing. That scorpion fight is staged among some strewn ruins that suggest Harryhausen's penchant for staging in proscenium-like settings with rubble for the poor flailing hero to appear to be doing something during filming. And even though it's a pixel-fest, there are winking nods to the 1981 version, and even a replication of the old master's stop-motion semi-stuttering movements. 

Great cast, too, starting with the appearances of Pete Postlethwaite and Elizabeth McGovern (where's she been?**) as Perseus' foster-parents. Liam Neeson plays Zeus (without any of Olivier's archness) and Ralph Fiennes has fun with his snakey performing of Hades. Sam Worthington plays Persus as a bit like a bland Russell Crowe, and Mads Mikkelsen ("LeChiffre" in Casino Royale) does fine glowering work as an Argosian soldier who only smiles...once. Chief love interest is no longer Andromeda (played by Alexa Davalos, who's a dead-ringer for a brunette Katherine Heigl), but Io (the increasingly ubiquitous Gemma Arterton), cursed by the gods with immortality and, apparently, the tendency to be a buttinski with an all-knowing smile. 

We can analyze this movie until it turns into a block of Quik-crete, but it delivers adventure tickles (one can't really say "thrills"), some nice character bits, and a regard for its original. It's a bit duller in color and flash than the first "Clash," but it does what it does for the most part very well. 

Whether we needed another version is another question.

This Clash of the Titans was intended to be released "flat," but since Avatar (the last movie Sam Worthington "sorta" performed in) received so much tribute, they hastily converted it to 3-D. There are the de rigeur spinning swords, swords poking at our noses, and—this is new—a skipping gold coin. But, as it wasn't designed for 3-D and it's an after-thought, let's call it "2 1/2 D." That, combined with the fact that most IMAX theaters in this country are not IMAX, and you have a lot of people paying extra money to not see what they think they're seeing—a 3-D movie in IMAX format. The tickets are far costlier, and Clash of the Titans was the top of the box-office the last couple of week-ends, so that tells me that there are a lot of people who don't know...and don't care that they're not getting what they think they're getting.

* By the time of of the first Titans, ILM had begun perfecting the go-motion system—Phil Tippett's way of introducing motion-blur to frame-by-frame filming, best seen in Dragonslayer.

** Filming "Downton Abbey", it turned out, says me in 2021.