Backstage at a Vienna theater, Chief Inspector Uhl (Paul Giamatti), left, questions Eisenheim (Edward Norton), alias "The Illusionist."

It's not exactly a blast from the past.

"The Illusionist" is more like an echo, a whisper from another time and place -- a place as distant, perhaps, as our imaginations.

In part, that's because, true to its title, "The Illusionist" deals with the nature of belief and illusion, the notion that seeing's believing. Even if we know what we're seeing can't possibly be true.

And, in part, it's because watching "The Illusionist" feels like a journey back to an earlier era.

The striking camerawork seems a bit faded, almost as if we're perusing an antique album of hand-tinted photographs come to life.

More to the point, the movie seems almost quaint in its deliberate, decidedly old-fangled approach to cinematic storytelling.

No flashy computer-generated effects and in-your-face action here, thank you very much. "The Illusionist" prefers to live up (and, occasionally, down) to its title with teasing, tantalizing restraint.

The movie transports us to turn-of-the-century Vienna (turn of the 20th century, that is), in the waning but still resplendent days of the Austro-Hungarian empire.

Onstage, a mysterious man sits alone, dominating the empty space with strange, seemingly effortless power. But wait -- is he really alone? Or is he actually conjuring an ethereal female figure who seems to materialize before the startled eyes of a spellbound audience?

Such is the power of Eisenheim (Edward Norton), "The Illusionist's" title character.

He's been conjuring since a boyhood encounter with a traveling magician. But magic is only one constant in Eisenheim's life. The other: a young duchess named Sophie von Teschen, who's never forgotten her childhood sweetheart, despite their painful parting long ago.

When they reconnect in Vienna years later, Eisenheim's the toast of the town, astounding crowds with his uncanny feats.

But Sophie (Jessica Biel) is on an even higher plane, poised to join the royal family with her betrothal to Crown Prince Leopold (Rufus Sewell), whose plans include a lot more than marriage. (Among them: a coup d'etat that would overthrow Leopold's father, the emperor.

To keep an eye out for possible impediments, Leopold dispatches Chief Inspector Uhl (Paul Giamatti), a by-the-book police officer who hopes to rise in the world along with Leopold.

But there's something the prince doesn't know about the chief inspector: He's something of an amateur magician himself, which makes him even more determined to ferret out Eisenheim's secrets, even as he's tantalized by his mastery.

Based on a short story by Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist Steven Millhauser, "The Illusionist" deploys its interlocking triangles (Eisenheim-Sophie-Leopold) and (Eisenheim-Uhl-Leopold) in the manner of a seasoned vaudeville performer, engaging in the same sort of sleight-of-hand Eisenheim employs to keep his audiences off-balance.

Similarly, writer-director Neil Burger ("Interview With the Assassin") delights in reminding us that movies are, by their very nature, nothing but illusions, clever con games designed to suck(er) us in when projected at 24 frames per second.

Thus, "The Illusionist" seems to address weighty topics even as it delights in the splendor of its period setting (with Prague inevitably standing in for Vienna), the richness of its costumes and production design, the scintillating subtlety of Philip Glass' musical score.

Throughout, "The Illusionist" also revels in its central characters. Biel, for example, adds a welcome strength to her traditionally ornamental role. And Sewell, playing the moustache-twirling villain yet again, expertly blends imperious intellect with control-freak tantrums worthy of the overweening despot Leopold seems destined to become.

But "The Illusionist's" real show consists of the showdown between Norton and Giamatti, both of whom make themselves at home in roles that, at first glance, seem an uncomfortable fit.

Quietly dashing, Norton dials down his trademark intensity, demonstrating less-is-more impact as he summons the forces of anger and sadness -- and concentrates everything in his hypnotic eyes. (When, during his act, Norton's Eisenheim instructs an audience volunteer to look nowhere else but in his eyes, you're tempted to laugh -- who could possibly look away?)

Yet it's Giamatti who serves as "The Illusionist's" audience surrogate -- and, as usual, steals the show.

In a refreshing change of pace from the hapless sad sacks he usually plays, Giamatti's dignified, wily Uhl interweaves numerous plot strands, yet allows us to follow the clues and connect the dots without spilling the beans. Or spoiling the game.

As a result, Giamatti and Norton demonstrate that "The Illusionist's" most impressive illusions aren't illusions at all.