THE INCREDIBLE BURT WONDERSTONE

Or rather, it isn’t. The story of duelling magicians is an evocative proposition, most memorably explored by Christopher Nolan in ‘The Prestige’. It’s the kind of story that has universal appeal, at once light and dark, magical and practical, artifice and earnest. One wonders what Pixar would do with such a tantalising premise, but in ‘Burt Wonderstone’, the reality is much more routine.

While taking shots at the glitzy, gaudy entertainment culture of Las Vegas (both past and present), the film mangles its stabs at satire by stating the obvious. Burt and Anton’s resemblance to the German cat-wrangling duo is cosmetically apparent, and their routine is resplendent in all the Copperfield laser-light show, but those figures have been cliché canon since the late 1980s – often spoofed, and better than here. Carrey’s ab-rippling, tattoo-chested mind freak is a dead ringer for Criss Angel (“Brain Rape”, lol), but Angel is already such a figure of fun (to the public and to himself), the joke goes without saying.

Compounding matters is the impeccable cast, who are all asked to bat well below their average. Buscemi, always a welcome presence, seems oddly out of place (and out of his comfort zone), while Wilde, previously demonstrating delicious comic chops in last year’s ‘Butter’ (look it up), is relegated to little more than love interest. Arkin steals most of the laughs with his cantankerous old hat maestro, leaving little for the film’s two heavy hitters (Carrey and Carell).

Carrey, in an increasingly rare comic turn, has either lost his edge in the intervening years of dramatic self-abasement, or was otherwise kept on a short leash. Resembling goth illusionist Criss Angel in both appearance and mannerism, his scenes (extended cameos, with only the slight flicker of meaningful interaction) rely mostly on gross-outs and setups that pale, both in theatricality and gut-churning awfulness, to the real deal. His performance is disappointingly uninspired, and projects an air of boredom from the usually manically energetic actor.

Carell, in a similar vein, fills the traditional Will Ferrell role awkwardly, his Burt a disagreeable jerk full of bluff and narcissistic bravado. His headstrong arrogance is hard to swallow from Carell, a gifted dramatic actor who could have wrought stronger laughs from playing up Burt’s vulnerabilities over his shallow vulgarities. It’s hard to root for such a sour dickhead, and the film asks us to do so for far too long before the inevitable turning point where, yes, Burt does indeed see the error of his ways and becomes a human being.

This transformation is taken with painful obviousness, which underlies most of the film’s problems: it’s tediously predictable. It’s hard to laugh at jokes that telegraph their punch-lines, and even harder to care about characters who we know will triumph in the final reel. Whereas films like ‘Anchorman’ kept us guessing with a disarming unpredictability, ‘Burt Wonderstone’ plays like a screenwriter’s manual: point A to B to C to Climax.

It’s this rote plotting and character progression that gives the film a distinctly childlike feel, even if the humour errs on the adult side of the swear-jar. Were it not for a few choice words and some general grotesquery, the film could actually play to children, with its oddly skewed prologue, sentimental lesson-learning, and broad, uncomplicated humour. As it is, ‘Burt Wonderstone’ is lacking in all the departments that matter: its heart is too left of centre, and its funny bone is distinctly lacking.