Dear Jerxy: Audience Response
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Dear Jerxy: Something occurred to me after your newest post [Wednesday’s post]...it's about what your friends think of all this crazy magic stuff. I don't remember if you've written about it in detail. I remember a few stories about specific tricks you've done, but not the overall strategy.
Have you ever talked to your friends about what they thought as they went through the process of a trick? Can they tell you when they realized your latest crazy story was actually a trick? Do they enjoy going along with you on your flights of fantasy? Do you end up having them bring a friend along because they think it'll be fun, and the friend later said, "That guy was interesting...is he like that all the time?!"
And do you spin ridiculous or incredible BS when you're not doing a trick? Just to make them laugh? (And blur the lines of when you are actually in a trick?)
Stumped in San Mateo
Dear Stumped: Okay, I’ll take this piece by piece (and not completely in order)…
“Have you ever talked to your friends about what they thought as they went through the process of a trick?”
There are a number of people in my life that I will perform for and "break down the game film" with, so to speak. But those are people who are usually seeing a trick in a much more stripped down, basic presentational style. With them I'm trying to get their thoughts on the fundamentals of the trick and to see if they were fooled and to see if there are any potential "easy answers" I can address in future performances.
But I don’t really discuss what's happening presentationally too much. I will ask people direct questions about the science of a trick, but the feedback I collect on the artistry of a trick is done more indirectly, just through observation.
There are a few reasons I don't break down presentations with people:
1. I have a pretty good understanding of what concepts and ideas are generally interesting. And I have a pretty good understanding of what concepts are specifically interesting to my friends. I have friends who are into more mystical stuff, friends who are into psychology, friends who appreciate absurdity, friends who are into the supernatural, and so on. And I make sure to pay attention and note these things so I can tailor routines to them without having to ask if this is something they’d be interested in.
2. The people I perform for don’t know about this site. So while it might be natural for me to ask them if they have any idea how a trick was done or if they were fooled by a particular element of the trick, it wouldn’t make a ton of sense for me to ask them, “And did you like the way the experience slowly morphed from the real conversation we were having into the trick? Or would you like more of a demarcation?” They don’t expect me to be analyzing the effect more so than “were you fooled?” So while we’ll sometimes look at presentational things in the focus-group testing, I don’t do so with my friends. I’ll just make my own notes on their reactions.
3. Their enjoyment (or lack thereof) should be evident. When you see a movie with a person, it makes sense that afterwards, as you’re leaving the theater, you’ll turn to them and ask, “What did you think?” Because for the past 2 hours you’ve been looking at a screen, not at them, and you haven’t been talking to each other. But if—after having sex with someone—you turn to them and ask, “Was it good for you?” you are the cliche of an idiot, because that’s not something you should have to ask. It’s the same thing with this type of magic.
Now, I understand that if you’re doing a 2 minute ace assembly routine, it’s not always 100% clear if they enjoyed it. But with an effect/routine that’s longer, more interactive, more conversational, and more immersive for the spectator, you should be able to pick up on their level of enjoyment as the effect goes on.
4. It sort of breaks the spell. I prefer to let people keep the experience for themselves and file it away in their memory as they see fit. If I start asking too many questions about presentational techniques, then I can’t use those same techniques later. And if I ask them how they enjoyed the effect, then it becomes this thing to be evaluated and assessed. And likely they will think of it as something I’m going to do for other people. That’s not how I want them framing the experience.
“Can they tell you when they realized your latest crazy story was actually a trick?”
Maybe. But it’s never really been something I asked about or was concerned about. As long as they know it’s a trick at some point, then I’m fine with it. My preference is that they gradually become certain it’s a trick and aren’t 100% sure until the climax, but that will all depend on how crazy the premise is.
“Do you end up having them bring a friend along because they think it'll be fun, and the friend later said, ‘That guy was interesting...is he like that all the time?!’”
No. I don’t do anything too strange for people who aren’t on board. And magic is such a small part of my interactions with people. I wouldn’t just pop in with a stranger, show them something really bizarre, and then pop out of their lives.
“And do you spin ridiculous or incredible BS when you're not doing a trick? Just to make them laugh? (And blur the lines of when you are actually in a trick?)”
Not really. Not unless I’m with friends who are into bullshit for the sake of bullshit. Some of my actor and comedian friends are that way. They’re into “bits” and random nonsense. But that’s not really my personality.
Part of the reason people buy into the immersive style of presentation is that they’ve learned from past performances that there’s going to be a payoff. The magical payoff is what makes it worth investing in the story. But the story also strengthens the magical payoff.
The two are intensely more powerful together than the some of their parts.
Here’s an example:
All payoff, little story: “I’m going to knock that book over with the power of my mind.” Book falls over.
All story, no payoff: “What time is it? 9:59? Every night at 10pm, the ghost of my grandma visits me. This is the time when she used to tuck me in to bed when I was a kid. There she is! Hi Grandma!” And you just pretend like you’re seeing a woman who’s not there.
Story and payoff together: “What time is it? 9:59? Every night at 10pm, the ghost of my grandma visits me. This is the time when she used to tuck me in to bed when I was a kid. There she is! What is she doing? Oh… she’s going for the book she used to read me as a kid. What are you doing, Grandma? You can’t touch the book. You’re dead, grandma. You can’t move a b—.” The book falls over. You jump back. “What the fuck just happened!”
The story gives the payoff some meaning. And knowing their will be a payoff gets people invested in the story in a way they wouldn’t be if they just thought it was random BS or nonsense. This—they will have learned from your previous performances—is BS or nonsense that’s going to go somewhere. It’s going to manifest itself in some amazing or cool or interesting way.
Which loops me back to an earlier question:
“Do they enjoy going along with you on your flights of fantasy?”
Yes. I wrote in a post years ago about how I track reactions to effects. I track both the intensity of their initial reaction, and then how long after the effect they bring it up to me. And what got me really tuned into the immersive style of performance was noticing how much stronger and longer lasting the reactions were when the trick served as a climax to some kind of interesting or fantastical story. I didn’t choose this style of magic because I had some innate desire to perform this way. It was solely dictated by the response from the spectators.
The thing is, all magic tricks are “flights of fantasy.” The only question is whether the fantasy is going to be about you and your powers, or about something potentially more interesting (or at least more varied).
I wrote about this a bit in the last book, so I’ll end today’s post with an excerpt from that.
From the “Your Audience” chapter in HBB
Sometimes, when I talk to people in magic about focusing less on individual tricks and more on [this style] of performing, I will get feedback like this:
“Sure, it would be nice to perform like that. But you hang around artists and creative types who are more willing to go along with that sort of thing. I work in the corporate world [or “I work with blue-collar guys”]. I don’t think they’d be as accepting of that type of performance.”
Sorry, I don’t buy that. I think it’s just an excuse to not try something different.
It’s kind of like saying, “What am I doing for my wife’s birthday? Oh, she doesn’t like romantic gestures. I got her a new mop and we’re going to watch a movie on Netflix.” You’ve convinced yourself your wife doesn’t like to be romanced (and maybe she has helped convince you of that) because, in the past, you haven’t done a good job of delivering that type of experience to her. Now, you may be married to someone who doesn’t like the typical romantic gestures. But almost everyone likes to be romanced, in the sense that they like gestures that makes them feel loved, valued and special, and that show you were thinking of them. If you’re with someone who doesn’t like when you make them feel that way, then you are with someone who doesn’t like you. Get out of that relationship.
Similarly, if you think the people in your life don’t want to see something more engaging or interesting than a traditional magic trick, you’re just telling yourself something to justify your laziness.
Nobody turns down the opportunity to see something fascinating unless they think you have some weird alternative motive for showing it to them. If they sense this is just meant to be a fun interaction, they’ll certainly be interested in seeing it. Who wouldn’t?
Now, there are certainly some people who aren’t into anything magic-related. And those people wouldn’t make a good audience. But if you think they’re at least willing to see a card trick, then they will definitely be even more willing to see something more immersive.
I’ll prove it to you. Find the person you think is least receptive to this sort of thing and say to them, “I’d like to show you something. Well, actually, I have two things I want to show you. Which would you like to see: A card trick? Or [now you look over your left then right shoulder to make sure no one is listening] this weird wish-granting stone a leprechaun gave me?”
If he thinks you’re trying to convince him of the reality of a wish-granting-stone-giving leprechaun, he’ll probably think you’re a lunatic or a dork. But if he takes it in the spirit in which you intend it, then he’ll want to see what the hell you’re going to do with this crazy stone.
Everyone who sees magic wants to be amazed by the more charming, more incredible presentation. They want to get lost in a world that is stranger and more mysterious than they know the real world to be. Only a magician would think, “No. No. The only fantasy they want to indulge in is that I’m super special.”