Orson Welles's tediously prankish essay on the topic of illusion and reality, incorporating both staged and spontaneous material, as well as some second-hand stuff, all shuffled together in a hand-is-quicker-than-the-eye style. Some of it is moderately intriguing (the sessions with art forger Elmyr de Hory, shot not by Welles but by François Reichenbach), and some is merely embarrassing (the elaborate ruse about Picasso). Welles himself, a blimpish imp in a five-and-dime magician's outfit, narrates windbaggily in an arch tone that makes everyone in the audience feel like an eight-year-old. (1975) — Duncan Shepherd
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