William Goldman adapted his own novel, a melodrama about an unstable ventriloquist comedian--not exactly a winning match-up. Anthony Hopkins gives an agonizing actors' performance playing a magician/ventriloquist who revels in a sort of naughty burlesque style; however, at this stage in his career, Hopkins seemingly had no good humor in him (nasty or otherwise), nor did glum director Richard Attenborough, who has seen too many movies and replicates old suspense. This isn't "Dead Of Night", this is more like "Night Gallery" (and one of the weaker episodes!). "Magic" pulls nothing new from its hat, although Ann-Margret plays a former crush very sweetly--she's a welcome relief to all the perspiring and twitching Hopkins heaps upon us--and Burgess Meredith does his wily old coot bit to perfection. The dummy, Fats, is made to look like a Hopkins caricature; he's kind of freaky, yet his intrusive manner is decidedly off-putting. This is a gimmick movie without much of a gimmick, just a bunch of timeworn ideas. The low-keyed, solemn finale--just as gloomy as the rest of the picture--is more perplexing than thoughtful (mainly due to Ann-Margret's dialogue being poorly recorded), and is apt to leave viewers feeling disenchanted and maybe resentful. ** from ****
Review of Magic
