Sylvain Chomet’s charming animation, based on an original script by Jacques Tati, is totally unlike any of the American epics that have rattled the box-office tills in recent years. It is beautifully drawn, in an old-fashioned but very precise way, and tells a gentle, almost melancholic story near to the way Tati might have told it had he had the financial resources to make the film.
The Tati-like central figure is a magician, one of the dying breed of music-hall turns of the late Fifties, forced to accept more and more obscure assignments, first in London and then in Scotland. The only one who seems to appreciate his art is a young girl called Alice. Showering gifts he can’t afford upon her, he can’t bring himself to reveal that his magic is fake. He is clearly obsessed but in a hopeless cause.
The film is very simply set before us, with the London and Edinburgh of the Fifties providing its visual splendours. It is so quietly done that sometimes its story almost disappears in the detail. Even so, it is a cherishable experience, with some lovely mood music, virtually no dialogue and a sense of past animated glories that keeps its undoubted whimsy afloat.
The Illusionist
Cert: PG
