‘The magic will work, but you must concentrate!’ is the slightly barbed energy that dominates James Phelan‘s spectacle of astounding psychological manipulation and mind-reading.
With a finger pressed to an audience member’s forehead, he summons information directly into their mind – names, unspoken secrets, knowledge of sentimental objects from other members of the crowd. It is one of the most ambitious feats of hypnotism conceivable, built on a delicate atmosphere of trust, engagement and imagination.
Phelan builds his world gradually, starting with a series of warm-up tricks that draw us into his logic. A card trick is framed around probability and influence, as he distracts us with mundane conversation before correctly naming the selected card. He then moves into exercises designed to engage the imagination: a magnet-like force pulling fingers together, one arm weighed down by an invisible box while the other is lifted by a balloon. From there, he escalates to his thought-summoning pièce de résistance, which begins by securing a volunteer’s feet to the floor with a few gestures and words.
Alas, the imaginary quicksand does not take hold. The trick works only if the audience member fully commits to the illusion. We need to cooperate.
The interesting thing is how Phelan’s onstage persona copes with this. He begins to take on the voice of a strict teacher: if audience members don’t follow instructions, it’s our time they’re wasting. This is blended with a kind of comic cattiness, an air of‘You’d better not mess up my trick’. Traditionally, magicians project a relaxed omniscience. Phelan lets us see the desperate vulnerability underneath.
This is slightly at odds with the much softer, more Disney-like vision of wonder that also runs through the show. He repurposes a Roald Dahl quote: “Those who believe in magic will find it,” and talks about his childhood dream of being a magician – as the nephew of Paul Daniels and Debbie McGee, it is in his blood. There’s a genuinely heartwarming moment where he asks a young boy named Logan what he wants to be when he grows up, then produces a coin engraved with the words “Logan Future Fighter Pilot.”
The rickety moments also clash with the impenetrable fantasy world created by the show’s production design. As we enter, classic jazz standards such as ‘Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off’ play over slowed-down black-and-white projections of traditional TV entertainers. Like Phelan’s mental tricks, it encourages us to melt into another world, to let go of the nagging details of reality and believe in something more magical – but the nagging details persist.
Nevertheless, the tricks themselves are undoubtedly incredible. The audience never tires of the mind-reading routines. In fact, they only become more compelling. You’re on the edge of your seat wondering: are they going to say my name? You hope they do.
By the end, Phelan remarks that it has been “an eventful show”. This might be part of an extraneous comic schtick. Or maybe, on this occasion, Phelan really does lose his cool as reality threatens to topple the magical realm.
Created by James Phelan
Published with Everything Theatre
Rosie Wood 
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