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Yet in contrast to Shyamalan's tediously self-conscious "bedtime story," The Illusionist doesn't insist on suspending critical faculties altogether. Uhl is fascinated by the illusion—but he still wants to analyze, to grasp how it's done. Unlike Shyamalan, Burger doesn't ask Giamatti, or the audience, to curl up on the couch with a milk mustache and accept whatever he chooses to spoon-feed us, no questions asked. Instead, Burger allows Uhl, and the audience, to ponder and cross-examine his illusions even as we are entertained by them.

In any case, Leopold permits himself no illusions when it comes to Sophie. He has her movements followed, and is crudely blunt about the possibility that the duchess and the illusionist may be having an affair. Before long, a shocking turn of events renders the question of Sophie's affections moot, and the dangerous romantic triangle is reduced to a mere contest between the two men.

Jessica Biel as Sophie

And then Eisenheim reinvents himself again. There was always a hint of occultism in the magician's shows—hints about "the far corners of the world where the dark arts still hold sway," etc.—but these always seemed mere dramatic flourishes. Now, when Eisenheim returns to the stage, the magician's patter is gone—indeed, he speaks not a word—and the show is entirely devoted to spiritualist phenomena, to summoning the dead.

If the old Eisenheim was popular, the new—much to Leopold's dismay—becomes a cult figure whose powers are celebrated by many as real. Uhl monitors Eisenheim's activities with mounting concern, caught between his admiration for the showman and his suspicion that this new show is somehow part of a plot against the prince.

The moral murkiness of Eisenheim's trajectory at this point is a bit problematic, and is not entirely alleviated when the illusionist unexpectedly issues a low-key public admission that his new show is not supernatural, and is meant only to entertain. In the end, climactic revelations raise further ambiguities about the film's moral calculus of hero versus villain. Even so, although Eisenheim consistently remains a step ahead of Leopold, it is the prince who is ultimately responsible for what happens in the end.

It's worth noting that while many viewers will assume that Eisenheim's illusions are merely movie magic that could never have been performed before a live audience, the filmmakers—working with expert magicians Ricky Jay and James Freedman—stick pretty closely to the effects and techniques that were actually available to magicians at the time.

The film's best effects, though, are Norton's compellingly enigmatic performance and Giamatti's considerable sympathy and charm in a somewhat compromised role. Their scenes together are the best thing about the film, which also benefits visually from sumptuous Prague locations standing in for 1900s Vienna. Burger's direction mirrors Norton's performance; it is calm and unrushed, but never boring.

1. Why do audiences like to be fooled? What is it that's so fascinating about a magic trick we can't figure out? Why do we enjoy a plot twist we didn't see coming
2. What do you think of the argument made by the cleric that Eisenheim's spiritualist displays offer "hard proof of the spirit's immortality" against modern scientific skepticism and could help kindle a new moral outlook? Can New Age or other false spiritualities be seen as a partly valid rejection of modernist skepticism? Can they be seen as a symptom of it
3. How justified or unjustified do you think Eisenheim's actions are?

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