Thursday

The Prestige is a disconcerting film. I want to say it's good, but I have a feeling that it wasn't. One never knows, of course, when there's a book you haven't read behind a movie: how much of what is good is the novelist's or the film-maker's? Perhaps all that I liked about the film was the creation of the writer. I don't think so, however, as I was struck by much of the photography - as I was in Nolan's earlier film, Insomnia. The film began at its end, which I normally consider the refuge of a director when there's a weak plot. But this wasn't the case: the plot is good. What was lacking perhaps was characters that one could really sympathise with. Not wanting to spoil the plot, but there are several unconvincing similarities throughout. I found myself, in fact, more fascinated by one of the minor characters than by anything else in the film. Michael Caine I wasn't impressed with, where I normally am. The third element, music, I hardly noticed. Overall, as I left the cinema on Tottenham Court Road (good sized screen, plenty of leg room, and staggered seating), I couldn't help thinking what I usually end up thinking about films based on novels - I bet the book is really interesting.