There is nothing wrong with the movie, “Now You See Me”, except for “the reveal.” That isn’t so good for a movie about show business magic.

Four street magicians, all of them hucksters of sorts, are recruited by a mysterious man in a Hoodie via a tarot card. They go to the appointed location and discover plans for an elaborate, but obviously criminal, trick. They throw prudence to the wind and go through with it. It takes a year of practice, but they get an act in Las Vegas and they do this trick where they pick a French dude (randomly selected from the audience) and “teleport” him to his bank in Paris and steal millions of Euros which then drop to the audience in the Vegan casino theater, owned by Michael Cain.

 The theft of the aforementioned Euros is not considered “entertainment” by the authorities despite the fast-talking boychic charm of Jessie Eisenberg, the cuddly caddishness of Woody Harrelson, the sexy smile of James Franco’s little brother David and the charm of Everywoman (as long as they are pretty darn beautiful) of Mrs. Sacha Baron Cohen (Isla Fischer).

The police storm their suites in the Vegas hotel but the buffoonish and perpetually angry detective (Mark Ruffalo) is over his head and annoyed with being hindered by a French woman sent from Interpol to “assist.”

A former magician-turned magic show debunker (Morgan Freeman) watches in amusement slowly figuring out how the trick was done and acts as a spoiler. He does this by filming the show (usually in secret) and then demonstrates how it is done on videos, which he sells on DVDs.

OK then, enough of the set up; I think you get the idea. I was enjoying the ride. I was really feeling the vibe of the movie. I passed over the silly infrared science fiction trick plans in the crappy tenement room. I loved the flashiness of the movie but somewhere in the second act, those niggling concerns grew to astonishment. The gullibility of anybody who would believe in this clumsy mutton-fisted not-at-all sleight of hand is beyond my ability to suspend disbelief.

Magic is a con game with a wink. This film is just a con. However, if you actually believe in magic you just might like this movie. (Which is my subtle way of saying that if you are fooled easily, you won’t see the magician’s assistants tripping over the contraptions in the background.) Unless you are the type that actually would say, “Wow, the lady really wasn’t sawed in half.” In which case, you would be too stupid to be reading my review… at all… ever.

First of all, I was distracted during much of the film wondering when the French Interpol hottie was going to speak clearly and when she might get those moles removed from her chest and neck. Perhaps in France the dermatologists aren’t worried about melanoma. I kept thinking, “Mole, Mole!”

Most deplorable of all is the abuse of Morgan Freeman. I won’t give away the plot, but what the “heroes” do to him is deplorable. And the “why” of the film is astoundingly “misdirected” (magic term pun intended). Seriously, I checked the chat boards on the film. So many idiots are debating the “why” of the ending. The truth is that the “why” of this film is irrational and cruel. And the comeuppance of the real criminal disappears in a puff of magician’s smoke.

If you go see this movie, don’t use your brain at all. Come as a yokel under the influence of a head injury and moonshine. Stumble in and get high on Milk Duds. And for heaven’s sake, don’t pay attention to the very last scene when the “mastermind” explains to the French chick without a dermatologist why it is OK to be a criminal—because his excuse makes no sense at all. This being a family paper, I can’t tell you what I think of his character, but I will say he needs to be teleported to a land where motivation is plausible.

“Now you See Me” started out with so much promise, but in the end, we are fooled without the courtesy of a wink.

“Now You See Me” (I wish I hadn’t) makes two-and-a-half bow ties appear.