Effect by effect
Real, possible with practice, or pure cinema
Real, and seen on screen as performed
The card force in the first scene. The flourishes, even if the hands belong to the Bucks. The card throwing. The pickpocketing of a wallet, a watch and a badge in a corridor. The reading of a volunteer from posture and hesitation. The cuff switch during the interrogation, a trick that rests on a lock already open and a performer who knows exactly when the other man will lunge. These are the moments the consultant David Kwong, founder of the Misdirectors Guild, built from the standard repertoire, and they are why magicians forgive the rest.
Possible, with a stage, a crew and months of rehearsal
The bank-robbery illusion of the first movie, where a spectator appears to be teleported to Paris, is a grand illusion in the tradition of David Copperfield: a stage, a prepared volunteer's seat, a double, a filmed insert. The second film's rain that seems to freeze and run backwards is given an explanation on screen, synchronised strobe lighting, which is a real stage principle pushed well past what lights can do. None of it is impossible for a production with a budget; all of it would take a team of twenty and would not survive a hand-held phone camera at the wrong angle.
Cinema, and the film is honest about it
The money that disappears inside a sealed vault and reappears above an audience. The card thrown hard enough to stop a man. The holograms and deepfakes with which the new generation of illusionists impersonates the Horsemen at the start of Now You See Me: Now You Don't. The VFX team of the first film described the vault as its most complex shot, and the third film makes the digital fakery part of the plot. The movies know the difference between a trick and an effect; they simply never tell the audience which is which, which is fair enough: neither do we.
The one thing all three films get right is the shape of a performance. Every set piece is structured like a magic trick: an ordinary object or person, a transformation, a return with a twist the audience did not see coming. That is the same three-act structure Christopher Nolan borrowed for The Prestige, and the same one Hugo uses when he builds a mentalism show.