Death Defying Acts

Though most biographers agree that escapologist Harry Houdini was a constant husband to his wife and stage accomplish Bess, the makers of Death Defying Acts are not going to let a little detail like ‘truth’ get in the way of a great yarn.
Nor should they. This soapy bodice-ripper may have been unceremoniously dumped by the Weinstein Company – Harvey W. even created an entire new firm so it would not be released under the family brand – but it’s a far more entertaining proposition than any number of titles (Bobby? Hannibal Rising? Besides, any film that’s audacious enough to cast Catherine Zeta-Jones as a turn-of-the-century Scottish peasant on the make demands to be seen. If there’s one thing the divine Mrs. Douglas can do with aplomb, it’s a scheming golddigger. Here, her preposterously, anachronistically glamorous turn as a two-bit medium-burlesque out to fool renowned magician and spiritualist-buster, Houdini (Guy Pearce), is worthy of a catfight with Chicago’s Velma Kelly.
It helps that Saoirse Ronan provides lively accompaniment as CZJ’s daughter and partner-in-crime. And that Pearce can keep a cool poker face. But the entire company is let down by a script that can’t differentiate between enigmatic and vague. A con is on but the plotting is far to muddled for anyone to figure out the double cross. Never mind that the film, pitched somewhere between Hammer horror and Catherine Cookson, is more interested in camp than in historical accuracy. To fail with the sleight of hand in a movie about Houdini still seems very, very wrong.