The Illusionist (2010)

The film is a magically melancholy extension of Jacques Tati’s career, with Chomet’s animation capturing the magician’s quiet grace and body language in a delicate, whimsical story of fading relevance and quiet devotion.

A warmly nostalgic, near-silent comedy about the decline of music hall that stands as one of the year’s most immaculately constructed and heartbreaking releases. Chomet joins the masters of modern animation with this gorgeous visual poem on dreams, parental responsibility and sleight of hand.

Chomet’s follow-up to The Triplets of Belleville brings an unproduced Tati screenplay to life with superb hand-drawn imagery and evocative sound design in a bittersweet valentine to the music-hall tradition. The visually rewarding film, free of dialogue, should earn widespread critical praise and arthouse play.

Chomet’s adaptation of Tati’s screenplay follows a magician whose style is fading, paying homage to classic filmmakers while filling the story with illusions both grand and petty. It is one beautiful movie full of its own life, striking a deep chord with its melancholy yet ambiguous ending.

The critic praises Sylvain Chomet's hand-drawn animation as an affectionate homage to Jacques Tati, describing it as distinctive, beguiling and deeply felt with emotional pain. The film is singled out for its ability to bring the 1950s vividly to life through simple, old-style animation and its loving depiction of Edinburgh.

This mature, near-wordless story of loss and grief is also funny and heartfelt, an elegy to a dying time played out against impeccably realised Edinburgh settings.

Paying painterly homage to Tati, the film envelops viewers in artful animation and a quaint world but heads toward melancholy rather than charm. It achieves a misty-eyed unity in eulogizing an extinct era of entertainment through its tender, downbeat tribute.

The film is a gentle animated homage to Jacques Tati and a love letter to Edinburgh, full of melancholic tenderness and handcrafted quality.

Chomet’s adaptation is a modest homage to Tati and a melancholy look at a lost world of music halls, brought to life with delicate visual style, tender humor, and tactile detail in its nostalgic evocation of shabby theaters and the illusionist’s charm.

Chomet’s sophomore outing is a delightful marriage of Tati’s and his own sensibilities in a charming tale of a French conjuror befriending a naive lass, thrilling in its retro pencil-and-watercolor aesthetics and old-school magic.

Chomet’s charming, beautifully drawn animation tells a gentle, almost melancholic story in the style of Tati, making for a cherishable experience with lovely mood music.

The review praises Chomet's scaled-down, melancholic follow-up to The Triplets of Belleville as an ambitious study centered on an aging magician supporting a young girl in Edinburgh. It highlights the Tati-inspired humor and nostalgia but notes the mimicry works better in small doses.

Chomet's follow-up to Belleville Rendez-vous adapts an unproduced Tati script into a melancholic, near-silent animation about an ageing magician and his young ward in 1950s Edinburgh. The film excels in its bittersweet exploration of obsolescence, time and the fading music-hall era through exquisite hand-drawn visuals.

The film is a downbeat, rarefied adult cartoon rather than a comedy, based on an unproduced Tati screenplay about an aging magician and a young girl. The real beauty lies in the gorgeous hand-drawn animation, cityscapes, and burnished colors that pay loving tribute to Tati.

Wistful, melancholic and beautiful, the film blends gentle humour with a keen eye for detail in its Tati-inspired tale of a fading illusionist. Scotland and Edinburgh are rendered with charm and oddity that enhances the sense of place and wonder.

Chomet's follow-up to The Triplets of Belleville is his best yet, with beautiful hand-drawn animation mixed with computer effects that captures the 1959 setting perfectly. The visual storytelling and character designs stand out as particularly strong.