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SHOWMANSHIP
For
MAGICIANS
CHAPTER FIVE
All of the foregoing, it will be realized, is merely preliminary to a detailed discussion as to how these qualities, repeatedly demonstrated as audience preferences, may be added to a magician's act or program. At this moment the list will seem long and complicated and perhaps too complex to be within the grasp of the average performer.
Because of the apparent difficulties presented in the adaptation of magic to popular presentation, it has been necessary to embark upon the long, detailed analysis of popular entertainment methods as represented by the foregoing. It is necessary because it is essential to convince the average magician of the utter necessity of adopting modern standards.
When it can be shown conclusively that the entire entertainment industry-movies, legitimate theater, nightclubs, etc., -have based their entertainment product upon these fundamental principles of public response, the reason why the magic field should predicate its product upon the same appeals becomes obvious.
Shaping magic to these same standards is not too difficult. The objectives are plainly in sight. The biggest job is to find the methods that will accomplish the result, a job that the writer hopes will be accomplished through this work.
The same type of exploration as that made of the general entertainment field, with the few examples available in the magic field, plus the individual endeavors of the performers themselves should produce the desired answers.
Perhaps this work will be helpful in that direction.
To begin: Music. Instantly many will think of a waltz background while the performer indulges in a routine of digital calisthenics known as manipulative moves. That positively is NOT what I mean. The way Malini used it comes nearer to the modern meaning:-Malini would turn to the musicians and say pompously:
"Professor. A tiny leedle valse." And then he would butt right in on the professor and go ahead with his performance, making it impossible for the professor to comply. He used this gag as a running tag throughout his performance, building up character and comedy.
Yet Malini's use is not exactly what I mean either. Music can set a mood, can establish a background, key a situation, and reinforce a character. It can sympathetically interpret and color and add grace and rhythm, supplementary to, but invaluably building up, the primary interest.
Let me illustrate. In the opening of the final version of the International Magicians In Action show we made what I believe to be a very good example of establishment of audience contact. One of the first things a skillful performer does is to try to get on friendly terms with his audience. The same holds true of a production. If you get them to liking you in the beginning, you are well on your way to making them like almost anything you do.
We opened the show in the cocktail lounge of the magicians' club. This is impossible, of course, to anyone who has ever been a member of a magic club. But fortunately our audiences were laymen and were unfamiliar with the real character of most magicians' clubs. So we indulged in a little plausible poetic license.
Behind the bar was the comedian, acting as bartender and with the writer, impersonating the president of the club, in a few words setting the situation. The principals of the company, in modern evening dress, entered singly and in pairs and were individually introduced to the audience. Very casually, and with no emphasis upon the trick at all, the bartender did "Any Drink Called For" from the clear cocktail shaker as he asked the principals what they would have. The whole thing was casual and the cocktail trick was, in the parlance of the show business, "thrown away." Yet often the reviewers picked out that cocktail trick for favorable comment.
After the cocktails were poured, one of the characters suggested that everyone go out to a show and come back to the club afterward for a nightcap. Another character said that with all of that talent they should be able to put on their own show. Someone else mentioned that it would take a lot of money. Then another principal stepped forth and said he had an idea, He picked up a champagne bucket and began picking money out of the air.
One by one the other members of the company started doing the same thing while the singer, with the orchestra accompanying her, went into "Pennies From Heaven."
With the exception of two or three who remained on the stage all of the principals went down into the audience and caught money from the air, occasionally handing a "sample" real half-dollar to one of the spectators.
It never failed to establish audience sympathy. This was partly because the performers were well groomed, friendly and likable in themselves and partly because of the mood established by the music. It was a familiar theme that was quite popular once and has retained its favor. The music brought nostalgia, romance, sentiment, rhythm, grace and many other qualities impossible to achieve without it. Part of the effect was because the music was familiar. A specially written number in this case could not have carried all of these qualities. That particular number established the whole routine and contributed heavily to selling it.
Now try to imagine what it would have lost without the musical background.
That is what I mean.
But, you say, that is all very well where you have a large company. What about the individual performer?
Clarence Slyter's drunk act is a fine example.
Slyter works silent. He staggers onstage -in top hat and tails, quite obviously snorted to the eyes. There are some signs that he has been philandering around a bit. The whole routine is a series of happenings, perhaps true but more likely the imaginings of a befuddled rake, more and more bewildering to the hapless adventurer.
As a background, and fitting the various incidents, Slyter has a specially written score, cued to the running time of each trick in the routine, each number exactly fitting the space occupied by the trick itself and changing with the idea or mood. Such numbers as "Cocktails For Two," "Ann Boleyn," "Three o'Clock In the Morning," and the like are expertly interwoven in such a manner as to become part of the essential fabric of the act itself. Every bit of the music means something.
Practically any smart act, magical or otherwise, will show you how this is done and will furnish suggestions.
Here is another example from the International Magicians show. Murder In a Telephone Booth was a narrative number.
The narrator, as the King's counselor, explains to the audience that a murder was committed in the Limehouse district in London. He further states that the audience has been selected as the jury and that a re-enactment of the crime will be done in order for them to reach a verdict.
Members of the company are introduced and they assume the make-up and costumes of the respective characters they are to impersonate. The judge is introduced and to a few bars from "Pomp and Circumstance," takes his place behind the bench, where he picks up a copy of the funnies and starts to read.
As the counselor explains the crime the various characters enact it silently:-The girl rushes into the telephone booth and hides while the orchestra plays "Pretty Baby." A tramp enters and saunters about while a few bars of "Brother Can You Spare a Dime" are played. He sees a cigarette stub. Music: "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes." And picks it up. Afterwards he crawls into a large packing case to spend the night. Music: "Sleep."
To the accompaniment of a mysterioso motif, the thug tip-toes towards the telephone booth, drawing a huge butcher knife, while the tramp watches him. After some business, the thug opens the phone booth door slightly and repeatedly stabs the screaming girl. As the thug sneaks away the orchestra plays the "Dead March."
The tramp cautiously leaves the box and finally gets up enough courage to look into the phone booth. He shudders while the music reverts to the "Dead March" again. Then he yells loudly for the police.
In the meantime, the principal playing the part of the bobby stands quietly at one side of the stage awaiting his cue. In spite of the fact that the tramp calls loudly and frantically the bobby takes his own sweet time to respond, and when he does every movement is slow and deliberate. The music changes to "Run-fling Wild."
He opens the phone booth door. It is empty. He shrugs, walks clear through and finally ambles downstage in his puzzlement. When he takes off his helmet to scratch his head, gold blond hair falls down around his shoulders. It is the girl. (Music: "Pretty Baby.")
The counselor protests and calls for the witness to explain the discrepancy in his story. The witness comes from the packing case and denies being the informant. When he takes off his beard and hat he is found to be the man who was originally playing the part of the judge.
The real witness calls from the back of the audience. He stands up, attired in full dress, and says the counselor must be wrong, as he has been sitting in the audience all evening. With that the judge interrupts and says there need be no confusion as everyone has been accounted for. But with that, a horrible fact suddenly dawns upon him. With a cry of consternation he pulls the wig from his head saying, "My God, that makes me the murderer."
The counselor tears his hair. The telephone booth slams open and the policeman, attired in the girl's clothes, dashes wildly from the phone booth yelling, "What the hell's going on around here?"
There is a discordant chord from the orchestra. And a blackout.
The whole scene was enacted in a good-humored, tongue-in-the-cheek manner and the various music cues aided immeasurably in establishing the comedy treatment.
This kind of handling can add considerably to almost any type of narrative trick. It is fundamental, however, that the narrative be brief and to the point. And vital to someone. There must be no elaboration, no by-paths and no elocution. The murder routine took but 4½ minutes.
An example, parallel to the murder mystery, might be made of the linking ring trick, as a random selection. This adaptation is a comedy version of Charles Waller's lines as published in "For Magicians Only."
"An old, old feat of Eastern mysticism known to magicians as "The Chinese Rings." (Music cue: "Chinatown, My Chinatown.") These are the rings. (Music cue: "I Got Rings on My Fingers.") Made of steel. (Music: "Anvil Chorus.") There are eight of them." (Music: The eight notes of the scale. Each played separately and distinctly.)
As the rings are handed out for examination, the orchestra goes into a fast Chinese motif. The time consumed in the examination must be brief. It may even be dispensed with.
When the rings are all out: "All of the rings are in your possession." As the performer holds up his hands, showing them empty the orchestra plays a few bars of "I Got Plenty O' Nuthin’."
From here on individual routines vary and other music cues may be inserted to fit. However, this is made easier by having the orchestra go into a few bars of "Chinatown" every time a reference is made to the Chinese. Or when reference is made to "steel," a few bars from "The Anvil Chorus." Whenever a number of rings are counted, use an appropriate number of the notes of the scale.
Picking up the Waller lines again: "This trick is based on an old Chinese legend ("Chinatown") that tells of a famous warrior captured in battle (Orchestra: Deep discordant rumbling battle sounds), and condemned to die." ("Dead March.")
"Loaded and shackled with chains, he lay in prison. ("Prisoner's Song.") On the night prior to the day fixed for his execution ("It's Murder, He Says.") there appeared before him the Chinese God of Battle. (Elaborate fanfare.) Showing him how by magic to separate his chains link by link, the Spirit vanished and left him to make his escape." ("Prisoner's Song.")
"And yet, before your eyes, you see one ring gently melt through the other. . . . But you can't part the rings by force. ("Anvil Chorus.") No. Back of this is a power more subtle than brute force." (Music: "Every Little Movement.")
"Softly, slowly as a ghost passes through an open door ("Mysterioso"); so does one ring pass through the other."
"Just as a stone passes through water leaving but a ripple behind." ("Rustles of Spring.") Ad lib to fit your own routine.
Where the line: "The Marvelous Magic of the East" is spoken, bring in "Chinatown" again. "There is neither haste nor bustle ("Please Go Way and Let Me Sleep.") "Just knock one ring into the other." ("Anvil Chorus.")
While doing the figures: For the clover: "Clover Blossoms." The rose, "Only a Rose," "Roses of Picardy" or "My Wild Irish Rose." The swing, "Rock-a-bye Baby." The ball, "After the Ball Was Over." Other titles will suggest themselves.
Additional comedy can be secured if you are good at facial expression. None of the figures look much like what they are called and the performer can have a dubious, somewhat skeptical expression on his face as he eyes each figure.
During the finale, when you are clashing and linking the rings into the usual jumble, go into "The Anvil Chorus" again.
When the rings are shown to be separate again at the end, count them off one by one. Meanwhile the orchestra plays the scale again, note by note, one note for each ring, in a descending sequence. The magician shrugs helplessly as the orchestra plays "I've Got Rings On My Fingers."
Just as the smart showman plans his productions to meet known audience preferences. And just as he incorporates as many of these surefire attractions into his script as possible. So also should the kind of material under each heading be selected to conform to public demand.
This is particularly true of the music incorporated in a routine.
The Oct. 1943 issue of the Journal of the Acoustical Society of America , has a number of articles on the musical likes of several industrial groups. While the investigations upon which the reports are based are by no means complete, this preliminary report will be found of value to the entertainer in guiding him in making his selections.
Some of the results are surprising.
One report-that of the RCA Victor Division of the Radio Corporation of America-is based on a survey made of four selected groups located in Indianapolis, Camden, Chicago and Newark. The four groups included singers, stenographers, office workers and warehouse clerks and factory workers.
The ultimate results follow: All groups liked patriotic music. The singers and factory workers liked fast dance music, but the office workers and warehouse clerks did not. Surprisingly, the stenographers did not. All groups liked "Hit Parade" music. All groups liked Hawaiian music particularly, especially the factory workers. All groups liked humorous and novelty music.
The singers and office workers and warehouse clerks did not like semi-classical and standard music. The stenographers and factory workers did, but not strongly. All groups liked waltzes decidedly. The stenographers and factory workers did not dislike polkas and square dances, the others disliked them definitely.
All groups, with the exception of the singers, markedly disliked Negro spirituals and blues. Even the singers' liking was only moderate. All groups liked marches.
Strangely, all groups expressed a strong liking for classical music, with the exception of the factory workers, who expressed liking for it but not a strong preference. Only the factory workers liked hillbilly and western music. The singers and the office workers and warehouse clerks expressed strong dislike. The stenographers were neutral.
The office workers and warehouse clerks were neutral on sacred and religious music. The factory workers liked this type more than the stenographers did. The singers expressed the strongest preference.
Now the above general results are not conclusive. They are preferences expressed by the workers in connection with music to be sent over the industrial public address systems at certain intervals during the working day. Under entertainment conditions the choices might change somewhat. Personally, I think the choices will change but little.
At least, this information gives definite clues for selecting music for an act.
One other point is important in connection with music: Ben Selvin, formerly recording director for a prominent recording company, gives the formula used by that company in preparing its arrangements for recording. He states, "The openings should be startling. The arrangements should include a change of color every twenty or thirty seconds. There should be a change of key between choruses and even sometimes in the middle of a chorus." He adds that a vocal refrain plus a fancy ending are almost "musts."
There are several very definite clues in connection with the arrangements for your music score.
Notice, also, how the usual formula for an act is repeated in the formula for arrangements: Attention-getting opening-varied pace-short number-variety in attack-novelty-and a punch closing.