Monday Mailbag #37
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Something I have been thinking a lot about is this. How can you perform comedy magic that is also strong magic? Usually - comedy magicians do stupid gag magic. But - doing strong magic contrasts with the traditional approach of being an incompetent goofball.
It seems to me the only way through this is to go down the route of what we see in modern comedy. Somebody who is delusional about what they think they are good at.
As such - my guess would be this. A magician who does strong magic - but the comedy angle is that he is delusional about the philosophical or conceptual art content of his magic - as such even though he performs strong magic - he is still a failure since he is aiming for something profound (on a conceptual art or philosophical level) when he performs - and missing the target each time.
You are funnier than me - so I thought I would run my thoughts past you. If you had to perform comedy magic (professionally and not for friends) - what approach would you take? —JM
I’m not great at answering questions like, “If you were to perform professionally how would you do _____.” Because I really spend no time thinking about it. And it seems like the sort of thing that would take months—at the very least—to sort out.
In general, though, I’ve spent more time trying to remove humor from my performances rather than add it.
One of the problems of trying to mix strong magic and strong comedy is that the most fooling magic requires a level of concentration and scrutiny on the audience’s part. But humor undermines those things. This is why there is the advice given in magic that if you want to get away with a move, you should do it on a laugh, because spectators can’t laugh and think critically at the same time. I think that’s true. And it’s fine advice if you’re trying to get away with your pass. But if your goal is to make the magic moment as strong as possible, then you usually don’t want the audience to feel their concentration was broken. You don’t want them thinking, “Oh god! That was funny! Oh wait… I forgot to watch his hands. Did he do something?”
Comedy is almost always a distraction. And for the same reason I wouldn’t want someone looking at their phone while I’m showing them a trick, I wouldn’t want them too swept up in the humor of the interaction. That’s why magic is not my vehicle for humor. I prefer to just be funny in real life. When I’m performing magic for someone, it’s usually some other experience I want to give them.
I do have some tricks where the climax is funny in some way. And what I’ve found is that there is not a simultaneous moment of laughter and astonishment. Instead, I’ll get a laugh at the “punchline” and it might take minutes for the impossibility of the effect itself to slowly build. I’m fine with this sort of reaction. The one thing the amateur magician has is time, so you don’t need to rush the reaction because you’re not going to move on to the next trick immediately.
If I had one piece of advice to give about humor and magic, it would probably be this:
The more interesting the effect is conceptually, the more humor will detract from it. If you’re making balls move from one cup to another, you are demonstrating a dull magical ability. So it makes sense to add a bunch of jokes to it. But if you’re doing something more conceptually interesting—even if it’s a silly concept—then jokes will take away from the impact of the trick, in my experience.
So, what works for me as far as the proper mix of humor and magic is to do something conceptually absurd, but to treat it seriously. Then the humor will arise from the situation, rather than being some “clever” jokes you add into the mix. For example, simply and soberly telling people I have an evil twin and pretending that is “reality” is much funnier to most people than if I treated it like a joke with a bunch of scripted lines.
Your books and blog have made my life better. Not because of a trick or a presentational idea, undoubtedly wonderful that they all are; the biggest change has been our family adoption of [the technique described in this post on how to make a relationship last]; every day when I get back from work my kids (and my wife too if she is nearby) sing a song or do a dance to celebrate. It makes my day, everyday. I’ve attached a recent recording. —CW
That’s wonderful. Thank you for sharing. But you can’t let them stop now. Your daughter might not want to sing “Daddy’s Home” when she’s a moody teenager and a boy she likes is over studying, but you MAKE her.
The good news is, you probably won’t have any issue getting your son to do that dance any time in the future. That kid was born with a gift, he’s going to want to share it.
Last year I bought a Fingerbot after you mentioned them on the blog. I was curious if you had any ideas for applications. —JB
Shit. I forgot all about that thing. I didn’t end up getting one. I thought I ordered one, but I can’t find any record of it, or any record of asking someone to get one on my behalf, so maybe I didn’t.
Here’s what I would do. When I’m outside with someone I would say, “Oh, I’m beta-testing a new magic app. Can I try something?”
I’d pick up a leaf off the ground and tear a piece off and hand it to my friend. I’d tell them to place the piece between two credit cards with RFID chips (“to protect it.”)
When they had done that I would take a picture of the rest of the leaf and have them destroy it by burning it or flushing it or whatever.
Then I’d open my phone and fiddle around with something, not showing them exactly what I was doing. “If this works, when we go back to the spot we found the leaf originally, we should find it again. The application is supposed to reset any organic matter you scan in. But apparently the app is pretty flakey. In theory it should look like the leaf traveled back in time. But that’s not what’s really happening. It’s just resetting the organic matter to a previous state.” This is a meaningless distinction, but it makes it sound like I’d given this some though.
When we go back outside and look under the tree for the leaf with the missing piece, it wouldn’t be there. “Hmm, maybe I sent it back too far. It might have just fallen from the tree before we found it originally.” Then I’d go back to my phone, make some adjustments and wait a moment. Then the leaf we destroyed—with the missing piece that matches the piece in my friend’s wallet—would fall from the tree.
This is similar to a couple other tricks I’ve done with leaves and torn-corner principles taken from card magic. But the idea of a leaf falling from the tree “on command” would add a whole new element to it. It would be a matter of rigging the Fingerbot in the tree so that it would release the duplicate leaf with the missing piece. That would require the right set-up and the right tree and the right time of year (you wouldn’t want there to already be a lot of leaves falling/on the ground), but if you could pull it off it would be pretty dope.
With some forethought you could play around even more with the concept of time-travel and nature and make a dry, dead autumn leaf fall from a tree in the middle of summer.
That’s a more ambitious use for this thing. As a day to day thing, I’d probably just use it as a secondary effect—making something fall somewhere as a side-effect of some psychic power or spirit entity or something.
Or, if I’m staying with a new woman overnight for the first time, I’ll set it up in her kitchen to knock over a glass or something. Then, in the middle of the night, I’ll wake her up. Whispering, “I heard footsteps in the other room. Does anyone else live here?” When she’s a little freaked we hear a SMASH! I’ll jump out of bed, no fear in my eyes. “Stay here. I got this.” I’ll hop into action, leave the room, and have an argument with an imaginary intruder in the other room. “Get the fuck out of here! UGH! I don’t care how hard you punch me, I will defeat you! Go! And never return!”
After I’ve “saved” her, we’ll call the police and I’ll file a fake police report. (“What did he look like? 6’10”. Solid muscle.”)
After that we’d return to the bedroom to engage in sexual activities, high on adrenaline.
The next day she would be having lunch with one of her friends. “He’s so brave! He singlehandedly removed an intruder from my house. And what a lover he is! I mean—this is going to sound crazy—but it’s almost like he has… I don’t know how to say this… an eleventh finger with which to touch and tease my body.”
