The role of an ambitious policeman from humble roots, who finds himself caught between an irresistible force and an immovable object, is a bracing change of pace for Giamatti, who invests Uhl with a gravitas that carries whiffs of Orson Welles and Claude Rains.
As Eisenheim delves increasingly into the occult and summons walking, talking ghosts, he attracts a growing cult whose members believe he is a miracle worker and harbinger of a "spiritual republic." This mystique further infuriates and threatens Leopold, who becomes obsessed with exposing Eisenheim as a fraud.
At a royal command performance, Eisenheim takes the prince's sword, balances it on its tip on the floor, evokes the myth of Excalibur and invites soldiers in the audience to remove it. The prince succeeds, but only after Eisenheim lifts the spell.
In Sewell's fiery performance, the prince is a dashing, scary control freak, who flies into Hitlerian rages when crossed. During one of those tantrums, he commits a murder, the investigation of which proves the ultimate test of Uhl's character.
If the parallel cat-and-mouse games Eisenheim plays with the prince and policeman have all sorts of political, religious and historical implications, The Illusionist, filmed in sepia, prefers to let them lie. This entertaining movie is content to be something a bit more modest: a pungent period folk tale that teases you until the very end.
At that point the film pretends to solve the riddles it has posed. But does it? Or is the ending just a fantasy? Either way, it doesn't much matter.
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