First Person Review: The Prestige

Published October 25th, 2006

Warning: This review may contain spoilers. I say “may” because The Prestige deals in secrets. It’s part of the fun of watching the movie. While I don’t think this First Person, animal in this case, review reveals any clues perhaps an insightful chap might be able to make a leap of faith into the movies secrets. I’d be hard pressed to see how. Nonetheless, I include the warning to cover my ass. Just in case.

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I envy these men. The two of them. As I watched from my small cage of boiled bars. As they parade my winged brethren onto a stage, onto planks of cold wood in order to dispense of them. To discard them like a borrowed idea or a two dollar whore.

And for what? A rousing applause and their ego’s gnawing hunger for recognition, that sweet, briefest of moments when the world roars your name. Yet the din dies as quickly as my sisters do. Broken wings and still air. Quickly replaced by their own desires and twisted thorns of greed. Their needs never quenched. These two men, Tantalus’s progeny, forever trapped in prisons of their own creation.

Indeed, we are alike in this. All three of us imprisoned. Though their cages are of their own making and for this I cannot forgive them. For they have choice and I do not.

My fate is wound with iron and wrought with chill steel. A window taunts me. A teasing breeze whispers my curse. No, these two men may choose their fate. I alone await an imminent death. My fate is clear, a sudden sharp pain, crushed by their lust for vengeance. But they may choose their fate.

One a fractured man, half a man. Hungry for glory but too distant and cold for glory’s hot touch. The people will never love him. Applaud him they will but never love him, not like the Showman. He of silky words and smooth waves. He who became twisted when love drowned. Twisted by anger and revenge.

So I watch as they eat each other’s pride and dance a stiletto jig yearning for the others demise. I watch from my cage as another one empties.

Man is a curious beast. Such freedom but content to live by sharp corners. Scared of the wind that would carry them up to their dreams realized. A place pregnant with ideals in action, transcendent love. A place where I should be. Away from these two men and their game of devil’s dare.

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A. Moses Griffin (base64 image) Amos Moses Griffin fennis.dembo@gmail.com
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