::READERS REVIEWS::

Wonderful movie!!! - The story behind this movie is compelling and gripping!! It was beautifully told and the cinematography was awesome. It is definitely one I would see again and again.

A classic - One of the best movies I have seen in the past few years. The story, the acting, the visualization and the imagination makes this an instant classic.

The Prestige - In the end of the Nineteenth Century, in London, Robert Angier, his beloved wife Julia McCullough and Alfred Borden are friends and assistants of a magician. When Julia accidentally dies during a performance, Robert blames Alfred for her death and they become enemies. Both become famous and rival magicians, sabotaging the performance of the other on the stage. When Alfred performs a successful trick, Robert becomes obsessed trying to disclose the secret of his competitor with tragic consequences. The work is epic in sweep, beautifully filmed, and strongly acted. A movie with the power of becoming a cult classic, ''The Prestige'' is magical. In every sense of the word.

The Prestige - The Prestige is a work of film making genius. The plot has so many twists and turns it will successfully keep you guessing until the end. Every time the ending of the story seems clear another twist will muddle it up again. The Prestige is written by Jonathan Nolan and directed by Christopher Nolan. These brothers team up on this project along with Christopher's wife Emma Thomas, as a producer, to create a masterpiece of immense proportions.

The Prestige is an entrancing story of two friends turned enemies. In this thrilling story two magicians, played by Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale, battle for one another's power and fame, often allowing their obsession to get the best of them. Robert Angier (Jackman) and Alfred Borden (Bale) begin the movie as friends working a mutual magic act as plants in the audience, but after Angier's wife dies in one of the tricks, he blames Borden and a bitter rivalry is born.

The acting by Jackman and Bale is superb, as is that of Scarlet Johansson as the charming Olivia Wenscombe. Olivia is a beautiful assistant haired by Angier to help him one up Borden. After Borden opens a new act called the transporter man, where he appears to disappear and immediately reappear across stage, Angier sends Olivia to spy on Borden and discover his secret. This secret becomes the object of an even greater obsession. An obsession that began with seeking revenge for his wife's death quickly turns to an obsession to simply destroy Borden, which will ultimately destroy him as well. Angier goes as far at one point to tell Olivia that he doesn't care about his wife, he only wants Borden's secrets.

These two men feed off each other throughout the entire movie constantly trying to outdo the other, going as far as broken legs, gunshot wounds, kidnappings, and ultimately murder. Nothing is too extreme for these men when revenge is within their reach. Jackman and Bale make this rivalry so intense and believable you're left trying to figure out even who is the "good guy" and who is the "bad guy." While this is the least of the questions that must be answered through the course of this movie, it keeps you guessing just as well as the rest and the answer isn't revealed until the last few minutes of the movie.

While this is a wonderful story line for a movie, some of the morals taught through the events of the movie are not very good. The major themes of this movie are revenge, deception, and competition. None of which are themes that I would want running through my life or the lives of those I care about. The saddest part about this story is that these lives of revenge, and deceit were chosen by the men that they consumed. I did however like that the consequences of these choices are shown in the end, but unfortunately, one of these "bad guys" gets off clean and gets his life back, for the most part.

Much like the great magic tricks shown by these two men, The Prestige will have you watching it over and over, trying to spot how they were able to pull off the elaborate tricks that are the prestige of this wonderful movie.

An excellent adaptation of a superb novel - At the end of the 19th Century, two stage magicians working in London become bitter rivals: Robert Angier (played by Hugh Jackman), performing under the name 'The Great Danton', and Alfred Borden (played by Christian Bale), known as 'The Professor'. They each seek to upstage the other, and when Borden develops a seemingly impossible trick that has him apparently teleporting across the stage in a second, Angier becomes obsessed with finding out how he did it, an obsession that leads him to Colorado and a meeting with a man named Nikola Tesla...

The Prestige, released in 2006, is an adaptation of the excellent Christopher Priest novel of the same name, directed by Christopher Nolan of Memento and Batman Begins fame (his subsequent project to this movie would be The Dark Knight) and sharing several cast and crew with the comic book movies, including Christian Bale and Michael Caine. The Prestige is a superb film which may actually be the finest translation of a work of literature to the screen that I've ever seen. The film is incredibly faithful to the themes and spirit of the novel, but not slavishly so. Ideas from the book that would not work well on-screen have been jettisoned, whilst the novel's modern-day framing device has been removed and replaced with a new one that focuses the story much more closely on the rivalry between Borden and Angier. At the same time, the novel's conceit of taking place entirely through the pages of the two men's diaries is actually translated successfully to the screen, and the changes made to the central twist of the novel actually make the idea even more disturbing and horrific than in the novel. As with the novel, upon finishing the film the viewer may be tempted to immediately watch it again in full knowledge of the secrets revealed at the end, whereupon it turns into a different movie.

The film's success is built around its two protagonists. Bale and Jackman turn in supremely accomplished performances (the latter possibly in a career-best performance), each having to play a complex, driven character each of whom is carrying weighty secrets and mysteries. Their escalating rivalry is particularly well-handled. Some may feel that the two characters are too obsessed with their rivalry and we don't see many other facets of their personalities, but given that the entire movie is driven by their rivalry, this is understandable. The supporting cast is also excellent, particularly Michael Caine as Angier's assistant, Cutter, Scarlett Johansson as Olivia and the curiously effective partnership of David Bowie (yes, that David Bowie) as Tesla and Andy Serkis as his helper, Alley. In fact, it feels like there's a whole other movie Nolan could go and make about Nikola Tesla that would be as fascinating to watch.

Nolan's direction, having to handle a complex, non-linear narrative and not lose the audience in confusion, is very good. At one point Olivia tells us that once you know the secret of the trick, it becomes rather obvious, and the film is like that. Rewatching the movie, it's almost incredible that you missed all the (in retrospect, obvious) clues pointing to what the truth of the story is. This is where the real success of the movie lies. Most of Priest's novels have a moment which is known as the 'Priest Effect', where the reader feels a trapdoor has opened beneath their feet and they realise everything they thought they knew was not only wrong, but perhaps never existed in the first place. The idea that this could be translated to cinema seems unthinkable, but Nolan delivers it here with considerable success. This is a movie where the rules are fluid and shift, but once you know what is going on, it all makes sense.

The Prestige (*****) is a most accomplished film, well-paced and dramatic, with a tremendous sense of mystery. It is a puzzle box of a story where all the pieces fit together satisfyingly at the end, and rewards repeated viewing. It is available on DVD (UK, USA) and Blu-Ray (UK, USA).

Slow start...excellent ending - I heard several rave reviews about this movie prior to watching it so I went in with great expectations. I must say I thought there would be way more magic tricks featured in the film, since it's suppsed to be about rival magicians. It seemed like they showed about 2 tricks then the war began to find out each other's secrets. I was waiting for the wow factor. However, about mid-way to the end, the excitement really picked up and I was very happy with the twisted ending. Not my favorite movie, but very interesting to say the least and it didn't leave me disappointed.

Such a Headache I Got From this Movie! - Vat's with this facockta movie already? Now he's over here, now he's over there. Please, another headache I don't need.

So this one in the movie has a twin brother. And they're both in business together. ... Big mistake. ... I went into business with my brother-in-law. We opened up a kosher delicatessan in Racoonballs, Montana. Goyim for as far as the eye could see. But, what the hell, we took a chance.

One day -- talk about your Transporter Man -- my brother-in-law absconded with all the funds and transporter himself, and the money, to Prickly Heat, Ecuador. This was some feency-schmeency transporter, I wanna tell ya.

So anyway, what do you care about my problems. About me, Yasha J. Banana, you could care less. Am I right? Have I struck the nail on the head?

Still, at 97-years-old, I *am* the oldest living Amazon reviewer. ... If you call this living.

I must say that although I didn't care for this flicker, I was intrigued by the fact that twin brothers were romancing two beautiful women and both gals thought it was the same guy.

Or was it one guy romancing two women?

Or were the two women schtupping each other on the side?

Who knows with this cockamammie movie! What do I care about magic tricks? They couldn't have let us at least once have a look at Scarlett Johannsen's tukus? Put a G-strong on that shiksa, brother, and I'm a happy nonogenarian!

Personally, when it comes to schtupping though I, Yasha J. Banana, recommend full disclosure. You have a twin brother: you make sure your girlfriend knows who's who. Either that or establish an odd day/even day arrangement. Or you both eat onions.

Now on with my review ...

See, this one magician gets a machine that he uses to clone himself. Once this happens, *everybody* in the film gets so excited. The director can't believe it -- a machine that can close one of my actors. He goes nuts. Rather than tell the audience in clear, simple language: "This guy has a machine that clones himself" --no, this mensch of a director keeps us guessing for the entire movie.

If I could I would have given him such a kick.

Can you imagine if I had such a machine -- a machine that could clone 97-year-old Jews like Billy-Be-Damned! Ho boy!

What a comeback the Catskills would make.

Depends' stock would go through the roof.

On every street corner you'd hear people say: "Yasha, boychick, so nice to see you. ... Again."

I'd clone myself night and day and day and night. And have each of my clones do the same thing.

Pretty soon there'd be a Yashaville.

Then a Yasha County.

Then they'd have to recognize me, Yasha J. Banana, as a sovereign nation. ... Yasha Congo. (On account of I once danced with Sophie Tucker in the Congo Room back in '36.)

Then there'd be spinoff nations -- Inner Yasha Congo, Outer Yasha Congo, Upper Yasha Congo.

Pretty soon I, Yasha J. Banana, would go global. I'd start moving into your neighborhood, knocking on your door asking if you wanted to give to U.J.A.. And if you refused, I'd be back, and back, and back.

There'd be so many of me, I'd be able to elect politicians, fill stadiums, surround the Rockettes.

I, Yasha J. Banana, would be everywhere. Eventually I'd go into business and make a fortune selling myself whatever crap I wanted to sell myself. All sales final.

I'd start a religion. The entire congregation would be me, Yasha J. Banana. We'd all walk to services on Saturday singing, "We Are The Jews!"

I'd do a fund-raising drive. ... Another fortune! ... I'd make those ganefs at the 700 Club look like pikers.

Of course, naturally, at 97-years-old, all us Yasha J. Bananas would, alas, be dying off. The morticians would be in heaven! Little kids would beg their parents to send them to morticians school. "Eulogies 101" would become a require course in all colleges and universities.

Goddamn, we'd be dying like flies!

Think of it. Traffic jams filled with hearses and grieving widows. All over the world, hundreds of thousands 97-year-old Yasha J. Bananas clutching their hearts and rolling their eyes to the heavens. The smell of Ben-Gay mingling with rotting flesh. Social Security belly up.

The turnover on shuffleboard courts alone boggles the mind.

Of course naturally you mnight say, "But Yash, bubi, wouldn't you want to use your ability to clone yourself for the good of others? What about the brotherhood of man? What about uplifting the human condition? What about everyone not just Yasha J. Banana clones but *everyone* holding hands and singing Cumbaya. Yash, come on now, what about .. the people?"

And do you know what I say to that -- Fark the people! And the cavalry they rode in on. Let them get their own cloning machine.

Before long Yasha J. Bananas will be ruling the world. Uber Yasha! Viva La Revolution! Pastrami on rye for all of mes!

Such a Headache I Got From this Movie! - Vat's with this facockta movie already? Now he's over here, now he's over there. Please, another headache I don't need.

This one in the movie has a twin brother. And they're both in business together. ... Big mistake. ... I went into business with my brother-in-law. We opened up a kosher delicatessan in Scrotumville, South Dakota. Goyim for as far as the eye could see. But, what the hell, we took a chance.

One day -- talk about your "Transporter Man" -- my brother-in-law absconded with all the funds, *and* the aitress and transporter himself, *and* the money, to Prickly Heat, Ecuador. This was some feency-schmeency transporter, I wanna tell ya.

So anyway, what do you care about my problems. About me, Yasha J. Banana, the oldest living Amazon reviewer (if you call this living), you could care less. Am I right? Have I struck the nail on the head?

I must say that although I didn't care for this flicker, I was intrigued by the fact that twin brothers were romancing two beautiful women at the dame time, and both gals thought it was the same guy.

Or was it one guy romancing two women? Or were the two women schtupping each other on the side?

Who knows with this cockamammie movie! What do I care about magic tricks? They couldn't have let us at least *once* have a good look at Scarlett Johannsen's tukas? Put a G-strong on that shiksa, brother, and I'm a happy nonogenarian!

Personally, when it comes to schtupping though I, Yasha J. Banana -- flute-tuner, hat blocker and one-time towel boy at Plato's Retreat -- I recommend full disclosure. You have a twin brother, you make sure your girlfriend knows who's who. Either that or establish an odd day/even day arrangement. Or you both eat onions.

Now on with my review ...

See, this one magician gets a machine that he uses to clone himself. Once this happens, *everybody* in the film gets so excited! The director can't believe it -- a machine that can close one of my actors. He goes nuts. Rather than tell the audience in clear, simple language: "This guy has a machine that clones himself" --no, this mensch of a director keeps us guessing for the entire movie.

If I could I would have given him such a kick.

Can you imagine if I had such a machine -- a machine that could clone 97-year-old Jews. Yasha J. Bananas all over the place! Ho boy!

What a comeback the Catskills would make.

Depends' stock would go through the roof.

On every street corner you'd hear people say: "Yasha, boychick, so nice to see you. ... Again."

I'd clone myself night and day and day and night. And have each of my clones do the same thing.

Pretty soon there'd be a Yashaville. Then a Yasha County. Then they'd have to recognize me, Yasha J. Banana, as a sovereign nation. ... Yasha Congo. (On account of I once danced with Sophie Tucker in the Congo Room back in '36.)

Then there'd be spinoff nations -- Inner Yasha Congo, Outer Yasha Congo, Upper Yasha Congo.

Pretty soon I, Yasha J. Banana, would go global. I'd start moving into your neighborhood, knocking on your door asking if you want to give to the U.J.A.. And if you refused, I'd be back, and back, and back.

There'd be so many of me, I'd be able to elect politicians, fill stadiums, surround the Rockettes.

I, Yasha J. Banana, would be everywhere. Eventually I'd go into business and make a fortune selling myself whatever crap I wanted to sell myself. All sales final.

I'd start a religion. The entire congregation would be me, Yasha J. Banana. We'd all walk to services on Saturday singing, "We Are The Jews! We are the world!"

I'd have a fund-raising drive. Another fortune! I'd make those ganefs at the 700 Club look like pikers.

Of course, naturally, at 97-years-old, all us Yasha J. Bananas would, alas, be dying off. But think of it, the morticians would be in heaven! Little kids would beg their parents to send them to morticians school. "Eulogies 101" would become a require course in all colleges and universities. Goddamnit, we'd be dying like flies!

(As I said to Sophie Tucker when I asked her to stand on a mirror back in 1937), I can see it all now -- traffic jams filled with hearses and grieving widows. All over the world, hundreds of thousands 97-year-old Yasha J. Bananas clutching their hearts, rolling their eyes to the heavens -- "This is the Big One, Elizabeth!") The smell of Ben-Gay mingling with rotting flesh. Shuffleboard courts littered with 97-year-old carcasses. Social Security belly up.

Of course naturally you might say, "But Yash, bubi, wouldn't you want to use your ability to clone yourself for the good of others? What about the brotherhood of man? What about uplifting the human condition? What about everyone, not just Yasha J. Banana clones, but *everyone* holding hands and singing Cumbaya. Yash, come on now, what about justice, what about ... the people?"

And do you know what I say to that -- FARK THE PEOPLE! Where were the people, where were the customers when I opened up my kosher delicatessan in Scrotumville, South Dakota and nobody went for my "Sheep Dip Surprise"? Or my "Gourmet Goyim Gefilte Fish." Fark the people. And the cavalry they rode in on. Let 'em get their own cloning machine.

Before long Yasha J. Bananas will be ruling the world! Uber Yasha! Viva La Revolution! Pastrami on rye for all you Bananas!

The Prestige - Really enjoyable movie. Great actors, interesting script - it's a movie that holds your attention throughout. Excellent!

Dark Magic That is Hard to Understand - - "The Prestige" was made in 2006 and the time the action starts is the dawn of the 20th Century. The story is about the obsession between rival magicians Robert Angier (Hugh Jackman) and Alfred Borden (Christian Bale) who endeavor to reveal each other's secrets. The competition escalates and the two illusionists start performing riskier tricks that turn deadly.

The ending is just not expected or satisfying. The complexity of the movie requires the audience to hang on every word and scene. Overall the movie is interesting, sometimes thrilling and exciting, and worth the watch. Scarlett Johansson, Michael Caine and David Bowie also star in this movie about the dark-side of magic

WOW! - I just saw this movie last night and it is now my favorite! It has your eyes glued to the tv the whole time wondering what will happen next! You have to watch closely not to miss any clues because it is a mystery what the secret is! BUY IT NOW!

The Prestige - Good film for those with patience, twists and turns and then a curveball ,moving is never lacking in suspense. not one of my favorite actors but I liked the movie.

Such a Headache I Got From this Movie! - Vat's with this facockta movie already? Now he's over here, now he's over there. Please, another headache I don't need.

This one in the movie has a twin brother. And they're both in business together. ... Big mistake. ... I went into business with my brother-in-law. We opened up a kosher delicatessan in Scrotumville, South Dakota. Goyim for as far as the eye could see. But, what the hell, we took a chance.

One day -- talk about your "Transporter Man" -- my brother-in-law absconded with all the funds, *and* the aitress and transporter himself, *and* the money, to Prickly Heat, Ecuador. This was some feency-schmeency transporter, I wanna tell ya.

So anyway, what do you care about my problems. About me, Yasha J. Banana, the oldest living Amazon reviewer (if you call this living), you could care less. Am I right? Have I struck the nail on the head?

I must say that although I didn't care for this flicker, I was intrigued by the fact that twin brothers were romancing two beautiful women at the dame time, and both gals thought it was the same guy.

Or was it one guy romancing two women? Or were the two women schtupping each other on the side?

Who knows with this cockamammie movie! What do I care about magic tricks? They couldn't have let us at least *once* have a good look at Scarlett Johannsen's tukas? Put a G-strong on that shiksa, brother, and I'm a happy nonogenarian!

Personally, when it comes to schtupping though I, Yasha J. Banana -- flute-tuner, hat blocker and one-time towel boy at Plato's Retreat -- I recommend full disclosure. You have a twin brother, you make sure your girlfriend knows who's who. Either that or establish an odd day/even day arrangement. Or you both eat onions.

Now on with my review ...

See, this one magician gets a machine that he uses to clone himself. Once this happens, *everybody* in the film gets so excited! The director can't believe it -- a machine that can close one of my actors. He goes nuts. Rather than tell the audience in clear, simple language: "This guy has a machine that clones himself" --no, this mensch of a director keeps us guessing for the entire movie.

If I could I would have given him such a kick.

Can you imagine if I had such a machine -- a machine that could clone 97-year-old Jews. Yasha J. Bananas all over the place! Ho boy!

What a comeback the Catskills would make.

Depends' stock would go through the roof.

On every street corner you'd hear people say: "Yasha, boychick, so nice to see you. ... Again."

I'd clone myself night and day and day and night. And have each of my clones do the same thing.

Pretty soon there'd be a Yashaville. Then a Yasha County. Then they'd have to recognize me, Yasha J. Banana, as a sovereign nation. ... Yasha Congo. (On account of I once danced with Sophie Tucker in the Congo Room back in '36.)

Then there'd be spinoff nations -- Inner Yasha Congo, Outer Yasha Congo, Upper Yasha Congo.

Pretty soon I, Yasha J. Banana, would go global. I'd start moving into your neighborhood, knocking on your door asking if you want to give to the U.J.A.. And if you refused, I'd be back, and back, and back.

There'd be so many of me, I'd be able to elect politicians, fill stadiums, surround the Rockettes.

I, Yasha J. Banana, would be everywhere. Eventually I'd go into business and make a fortune selling myself whatever crap I wanted to sell myself. All sales final.

I'd start a religion. The entire congregation would be me, Yasha J. Banana. We'd all walk to services on Saturday singing, "We Are The Jews! We are the world!"

I'd have a fund-raising drive. Another fortune! I'd make those ganefs at the 700 Club look like pikers.

Of course, naturally, at 97-years-old, all us Yasha J. Bananas would, alas, be dying off. But think of it, the morticians would be in heaven! Little kids would beg their parents to send them to morticians school. "Eulogies 101" would become a require course in all colleges and universities. Goddamnit, we'd be dying like flies!

(As I said to Sophie Tucker when I asked her to stand on a mirror back in 1937), I can see it all now -- traffic jams filled with hearses and grieving widows. All over the world, hundreds of thousands 97-year-old Yasha J. Bananas clutching their hearts, rolling their eyes to the heavens -- "This is the Big One, Elizabeth!") The smell of Ben-Gay mingling with rotting flesh. Shuffleboard courts littered with 97-year-old carcasses. Social Security belly up.

Of course naturally you might say,

"But Yash, bubi, wouldn't you want to use your ability to clone yourself for the good of others? What about the brotherhood of man? What about uplifting the human condition? What about everyone, not just Yasha J. Banana clones, but *everyone* holding hands and singing Cumbaya. Yash, come on now, what about justice, what about ... the people?"

And do you know what I say to that --

FARK THE PEOPLE!

Where were the people, where were the customers when I opened up my kosher delicatessan in Scrotumville, South Dakota and nobody went for my "Sheep Dip Surprise"?

Or my "Gourmet Goyim Gefilte Fish."

Fark the people1

And the cavalry they rode in on. Let 'em get their own cloning machine.

Before long Yasha J. Bananas will be ruling the world! Uber Yasha! Viva La Revolution! Pastrami on rye for all you Bananas!