As he admits in the title of his show, Michael Rajasingam is awkward in An Awkward Magician with a Lemon. Luckily for the audience, it is a relatable, humorous type of awkwardness that adds charm to Rajasingam's performance. Rajasignam spends plenty of time in his show allowing this humor to take center stage. His magic tricks are entertaining as well, although perhaps not so consistently, and he does occasionally have trouble combining the comic and magic aspects of his performance.
There are several points in the show in which Rajasingam successfully combines his magic tricks with his performance. The recurring motif of the lemon is a fun acknowledgement of the title of his show. In an unrelated moment, Rajasingam takes the time to tell a sweet story about his family as he performs a coin trick. This unexpectedly heartwarming routine is a break from the overall awkward humor that nevertheless harmonizes well with the rest of the show.
Unfortunately, Rajasingam's performance of his other tricks is not always so impressive. There are a few times that he is noticeably distracted from the thread of his show to focus on getting a trick right. At other times, his sleight of hand is lacking, and his props might be visible at the wrong times. Both of these flaws simply require more practice to perfect his skills and integrate them with his performance.
The awkwardness of Rajasingam's performance allows his relationship with his audience participants to develop a little bit more easily, as it is difficult to feel conspicuously awkward when standing on stage beside Rajasingam. Audience participants quickly feel at ease. Rajasingam is kind to those who he invites to join him, using them to demonstrate his tricks while still ensuring that they get to see the full extent of the magic.
While Rajasingam's performance is not perfect, he is dependably entertaining and fun to watch. He uses his awkwardness as a character quirk rather than allowing it to hinder his performance. Rajasingam's mistakes are only momentary, the overall effect of his show is delightful.
Geoff Sobelle's Home defies categorization—it makes such excellent use of a variety of performance art genres and influences to make its point. Most interesting, and perhaps most relevant to this review site, is the evident magical influences. Many of the most obviously magical effects are used to add charming moments of humor, and even beyond these it makes original use of magic tropes. Any plot to Home is more of a suggestion or theme than a storyline, as its purpose does not seem to be to tell a traditional story, but to convey a feeling of Home-ness to the audience.
The motif of disappearing and reappearing dominates the first section of Home. This appears as a sort of larger scale of a magician's sleight of hand. Instead of playing cards disappearing, reappearing, or suddenly changing identity, it is the human actors doing those things. This illustrates a central message of Home, that while a house might stand for generations, the people who would call it a home are in comparison constantly changing.
A second main segment of Home is instead monopolized by that classic component of magic shows, random audience member participation. The audience members who are brought up on stage are well taken care of. The nature of the performance allows the actors to give the participants instructions without distracting the rest of the audience from the show. By the end of this scene there are so many members of the audience up on stage, and the participation has extended so far into the seated masses, that it is as if Sobelle has welcomed the entire audience into his house party.
It is worth mentioning the primary set piece used in the production. Home is a multifaceted piece of performance art, and a key aspect of that is the house that the majority of the action is set within. It is an incredibly elegant and precise construction. The house set is so perfectly suited for the choreography of the performance, it is clearly a very well thought through design.
If the goal of Home is to convey a sense of Home-ness to the audience, it has succeeded in this impeccably. Its whimsical reflections on the nature of what makes a house a home are always captivating and, by the end, ultimately heartwarming.
Regan starts out relatively gently, performing his creative take on a classic dangerous magic trick. He uses that trick and his enhancement of it to lead into his discussion of a bit of basic social psychology. This is by no means an exhaustive lecture on the topic that he brings up, but he does present an admirably balanced view given the inherent time constraints of his show. His performance becomes both more dangerous and more personal as it progresses. He continues in his examination of societal issues, but also talks at greater length about his personal mental health struggles.
That being said, he has a few lovely moments. An early sleight of hand trick becomes a charming analysis of the importance of interpersonal connections, and equally the importance of accepting that varying degrees of individual differences mean that some might stand out from a crowd more than others. This is a delightful demonstration of Regan's fantastic fusion of magic with the stories that he tells. Regan is also caring in his interactions with his audience—which is perhaps especially appropriate given his theme of mental health. He generally requests volunteers, especially for the more involved participant roles. Regan has an especially touching bit with one participant toward the end, using mind reading tropes in an especially conscientious manner.
There are a few issues in Regan's sleight of hand work, with the odd prop noticeable at the wrong time. This is occasionally briefly distracting, but his performance is multifaceted enough to cover for any such errors.
In Illusions of Depression, Regan uses magic effectively to make his case about mental health. His dangerous stunts do often go further than is really necessary to convey this case to his audience. The audience gets the impression that, to a certain extent, this excessive danger is included in the show for Regan's benefit rather than their own. If that is truly the case then I genuinely hope that Regan gets what he is looking for out of his run at the Fringe.
* Note: Paul Regan's flyers do include a trigger warning.
Trickorice Allsorts is a delightfully punny show title, which is appropriate as magicians Griffin and Jones are like the human embodiments of a pun. Their wacky slapdash style is perfectly coordinated and precisely executed. The chaos that is ever present throughout the show may appear, at times, to be genuinely beyond their control, but by the end of the performance the audience is convinced that Griffin and Jones have always been in command of everything that happens on their stage.
The magic tricks that Griffin and Jones perform are not necessarily original in their fundamental structure, but the trappings that they dress them in express their characteristic style at every opportunity. From the clown-like opening silent sequence featuring a newspaper to their tombola-themed memento recovery trick, their performance is consistently unpredictable in its silliness. The magic itself is performed accurately as well, and many reveals provoke involuntary exclamations of astonishment from the audience. The triumph of their tricks is perhaps even more impressive as it is presented against a background of apparent pandemonium.
Griffin and Jones can only pull off this wacky style so well as it is paired with such precisely executed tricks, but these factors are brought together so successfully because of their energy and chemistry. The show that was reviewed ended up having a relatively small audience, but this had no apparent impact on the larger than life comedy that Griffin and Jones brought to the performance. They bring this energy to their interactions with their audience participants as well. If they do tease on occasion, it is gentle enough that it only serves to make their participants feel welcome in temporarily joining them on stage. It is also so lovely to watch Griffin and Jones bolster and bounce off of each other with such genuine support. The audience gets the impression that that real trust between the two is the true foundation for their success on stage.
Griffin and Jones are fantastically ridiculous performers as well as skilled magicians. Trickorice Allsorts is, as suggested both by the pun and by Griffin and Jones themselves, a bit of a mixed bag of random magic tricks. However, in quality, style, and sheer concentrated silliness, Trickorice Allsorts is consistently remarkable.
Charlie Caper calls himself a magician, but Artifice Intelligence is less of a magic show and more an excuse for Caper to demonstrate a variety of robots and other machines that he has clearly spent a lot of time building. It is easy to see why, as they are incredible. Artifice Intelligence loses nothing from this focus, as Caper creates a compelling storyline out of his creations.
The magic that Caper does perform often makes use of the robots. It does, at times, almost become a commentary on that stale magical trope of the beautiful assistant, and her relationship with the magician who she assists. The robots steal the show. A particular highlight is the butter robot, which conveys an astonishing breadth of emotion for what appears to be one of the more simple of Caper's machines.
When Caper attempts more traditional magic tricks they do at times go awry. Cards and bottles might appear out of turn, and, at the performance reviewed, cups of liquid that were being used as props spilled all over the floor and Caper's clothing. This is written in an ambiguous fashion because Caper performed through these potential mishaps so impeccably that it is difficult to know whether they were genuine mistakes or calculated aspects of his performance, designed to appear to go wrong for effect. If they were honest mistakes it is perhaps even more impressive that Caper managed to play them off so efficiently.
The plot that Caper weaves through Artifice Intelligence is present enough to create dramatic tension, but not so prioritized that it dominates the show. Its foreshadowing and ultimately darkly satisfying conclusion bind the show together. It is charming that after the story has run its course, Caper takes advantage of his stage to deliver a message of hope about the future of technology in society. This does not come across as part of his act, but as genuine social commentary from a man who has evidently spent a large portion of his life fascinated by machines.
Artifice Intelligence blurs the boundary of what can be decidedly defined as magic. It also defies age boundaries, as it is both child friendly and engaging for all age ranges. What Caper has done is use both the magic of magicians and the "magic" of technology to build an unambiguously exceptional show.
The opening animation sets the tone perfectly for Sam Fitton's Dreamer—good, silly fun, like a perfectly planned magical dream. While Fitton is a personable performer and Dreamer is notable for its creativity, there is room for improvement in its execution.
If there is a theme to Dreamer, it is Fitton's wacky magical perception of everyday life. This is epitomized in his opening sequence, which features Fitton struggling through his morning routine as the implements of his daily life transform into illusions. His use of real-life props in his tricks integrates them into the vignette. The tricks are often common, but Fitton has put them together into a charming storyline.
Fitton's friendly stage presence is felt at every turn. As is common in magic shows, Dreamer requires audience participation, but in one section Fitton plays with this standard by involving the entire audience, firing props into the crowd and teaching everyone a simple magic trick. I, for one, was surprised by how amused I was with this, and found myself repeating the trick over and over for my own entertainment for the rest of the day. It was a lovely reminder of the joyful wonder that Fitton radiates with every movement.
Not every audience member is so lucky, and in another section Fitton pulls someone from the crowd and throws them into his script with no warning. It is perhaps inarguably true that all members of the audience at a magic show must be prepared to be called upon to assist the magician, but it is equally the duty of the magician to make those called upon feel safe in their temporary spotlight. Fortunately on that afternoon the participant for this section appeared unfazed. However, the rest of the audience may have felt justifiably wary of helping Fitton for the rest of the show.
This issue was confined to a single section of Dreamer, but general issues with Fitton's execution of his tricks were less constrained. There are moments when the audience catches glimpses of the mechanics behind Fitton's magic, which is, on occasion, a little bit distracting from the overall performance.
These performance problems aside, Dreamer is delightful. Its whimsical framework for Fitton's magic tricks is consistently inventive and engaging. Fitton is promisingly creative and reliably fun to watch.