A magical story sparks 'The Illusionist'
The late French filmmaker and actor Jacques Tati was an anachronism, a mostly silent star in a sound era. In landmark films like "Mr. Hulot's Holiday" (1953) and "Play Time" (1967), Tati's stock character, Monsieur Hulot - much like Charlie Chaplin's Little Tramp - played the slapstick oaf trapped in a streamlined, modern world.
Decades after Tati's death in 1982, one of his unproduced scripts came into the hands of another anachronism, Sylvain Chomet ("The Triplets of Belleville"), a hand-drawing animator in a computer-dominated age. That script is now "The Illusionist," a lovely and poignant film that revives Tati's flummoxed, nostalgic spirit. It is playing in gorgeous 2-D.
The story begins with an aging magician who bears Hulot's clownish trademarks - ridiculous nose, flood pants, stiff-kneed gait. It is 1959 and loud rock bands are on the rise, but the entertainer continues to tour, going from a dinky music hall in Paris to a pub in rural Scotland. That's where he so dazzles a young girl that she stows away on his ferry, leaving him little choice but to take her in.
Like most children, the girl believes in magic, especially when it comes to money. And like most parents, the magician tries to prolong the illusion. He ventures into the real world - washing cars and other odd jobs - so she won't have to. Alas, that trick will work for only so long.
It was Tati's daughter Sophie Tatischeff who bequeathed "The Illusionist" to Chomet before she died in 2001. It's worth noting that the film is saturated with a French melancholy that may overwhelm American children. And its bittersweet ending may hit parents hardest of all.