The Magician has been acclaimed as ‘the best Australian film in five years’ that has been made with ‘raw inspiration and intelligence’. I find it is neither of these things and am in a group of one. Scott Ryan’s self-funded mockumentary was made for considerably less than the Film Finance Commission spends on Friday night drinks. That’s the achievement, in an industry run by big dollars and bigger returns. Ryan wrote, produced, directed and starred in his fly-on-the-wall documentary about a Melbourne hit-man, Ray Shoesmith. Intimate light shines on the daily dealings of this gangland crime figure – from debt collection to kidnapping. Shoesmith has a dark sense of humour that Ryan uses to pin the film with a knowing sense of realism and humour. Ironic thuggery is, apparently, funny. Yet the perception that The Magician is a clever, insightful, boundary-challenging production is a simple case of Emperor’s New Clothes. There is an initial sense of intrigue as his Tarantino-esque characters run with Tarantino-esque dialogue, but all too soon it is revealed to be as dreary as it is derivative. Not nearly enough time has been spent on plot or character development while sardonic observation does not a film make. Picture, if you will, an underworld edition of The Panel with a cast of one. With barely enough material for a fifteen minute film school short, this is a long slog. Undoubtedly Ryan has a bright future, but this debut is nowhere near as startling or as amusing as pundits would have us believe. Despite what they say, The Magician is a squib that casts no spells. // COLIN FRASER