If anyone offers to spoil the ending of The Prestige for you, make sure that you have a solid five minutes to spare. I'm not even sure that I could manage it, even if I thought it was worth the effort. In the end, it's probably easier just to see the movie. To make the obvious comparison, it's sloppier and flashier than The Illusionist, and arguably more compelling on a visceral level, although it doesn't exactly stick to your bones. (It's also remarkably skittish about its central "surprise," like a bad liar who betrays himself by his own evasiveness.) Still, in a season of astonishing ensemble casts (The Departed, Marie Antoinette, The Good Shepherd), it has the greatest number of faces that I was happy to see. Any movie that finds time for Ricky Jay, Andy Serkis, and David Bowie is probably worth two hours of your time.