I have been extremely lucky with my audiences. They are kind, attentive and appreciative. I now have over 100 google reviews. I am still absolutely honoured and thankful that every single one of them has awarded me 5 stars. It is an achievement of which I am immensely proud. Although the longer I trumpet such accolades, the more I will have to readjust almost all my marketing copy when my first 4 star (or, heaven forfend, lower!) review arrives. Please do not get any ideas.
However, it is human nature to dwell on the less than 1% percent of negative reaction that I have encountered with individuals. This last weekend I performed to nearly 1000 people at various functions. It would be extreme arrogance to presume that each and every one of them believed me to be amongst one of the best entertainers that they have ever witnessed.
It is a semi-regular occurrence when I arrive at an event that clients will point out somebody and covertly whisper to me, “don’t mind them, they really don’t like magic.” (90% of the time, it is a “him, not a “her”). So, if you are thinking of hiring a magician and have concerns about whether or not the performance will be for everyone, I wanted to share my experiences with guests who seem not share our love of magic.
I generally find that there are three types of people who bristle at my arrival at a celebration.
Firstly, there are the Rhabdophobics. This is the phobia for those who find themselves scared by magic and magicians. Many of us have an irrational dislike of something or other. For some, the idea of an outside agency being able to bend them to their will or manipulate physics sends them into an internal panic.
I have never encountered a rhabdophobic who is not embarrassed about their fear. Their logical brain realises that what I am presenting is an entertainment. Yet, their condition still prevents them from involving themselves in what I am purporting to do, even if I undercut myself with a large dose of self deprecation.
They usually quietly and carefully excuse themselves from my vicinity, apologise for doing so, and wish their fellow guests well. I have no desire to cause people distress, and we should not be teased forour quirks. In these situations, I wish them well and leave as much physical distance as I can between them and me for the rest of my engagement.
The second group of negative reactions all come from people who treat magic as if it is a competitive sport. They believe that I am trying to prove that I am better than them. There are two subsections.
Firstly I encounter people who are eager to be the most dynamic in the room and will not brook anything that, in their mind, makes them look stupid. They do not want to be “tricked”. The ‘alpha male’ stereotype will often appear here.
I try to make performances inclusive and strive to make people understand that they are just as magic as myself. However, there are those that will do their best to interrupt, subvert and sabotage a performance. This is seemingly to prove to others in the room, that the show off in the silly hat is not all that he that he is cracked up to be. Imagine the various different tactics you might employ to wrong foot a magician when reacting to the phrase “pick a card, any card”. And you will not be surprised to hear that I have encountered every single one of them.
Personally, I find this group the most disruptive. Not just to me, but to everyone else that I am looking to entertain. However, I am engaged to make sure that everyone has a good time. Therefore, on the rare occasions that someone who casts themselves as my opponent contrives to put me on the back foot; then I will acquiesce, admit their superiority and allow them their victory. They need to have their story about how they “bested” the magician. That is their entertainment. These interactions do not go unnoticed by other guests and the crowd will turn against the worst culprits.
The second subsection of competitive audiences are those with brains wired to absolutely abhor inconsistencies. They are typically engineers, academics or those with highly analytical minds who have built up a world view where everything can be categorised and predicted. When I perform something that cannot be explained, they get angry that it does not comply with their percieved logic. Their ire is very rarely directed at me. Their need to find the solution, and by extension, win, can drain a moment of excitement.
Where the majority of audiences find an effect diverting and joyous, there are those that seethe through gritted teeth that they “won’t sleep tonight”, and genuinely mean it. Almost all audiences react to something amazing by saying “How did you do that?” but only this group of people are desperate to find an answer. Google’s advice is often quickly sought.
I have far more patience with this group. I suppose because it is this sort of mindset that steered me towards becoming a magician in the first place. The great Danish magician Tommy Wonder has a telling phrase in the middle of his act, “I became a magician to work out how I do all these effects!”
Unlike the confrontational disruptors mentioned earlier, I have very rarely encountered people who display this compulsion that are not intellectually and emotionally able to realise the artifice of the situation. Although they often try to slay the golden goose by rationalising a method to the impossibility that has just been witnessed, they understand the game that I am trying to play. The impact on other spectators is lessened.
The third and final group are my favourite. These are the people that pointedly, and sometimes aggressively, announce “I don’t like magic”. In these situations, I have to be a little careful because they could fall into the first two categories described above. However, I like to probe a little deeper, because their negative statement can often be translated as “I have never seen a good magician.” Bad children’s magicians from parties long ago, or uncle Brian’s fumbling attempts at performing a Christmas cracker trick around the yuletide dinner table are typical encounters with this glorious art form. This group is easily identified as they will avoid eye contact with the “clown” and almost always have their arms folded tightly.
I treat their initial dismissive statement as an opportunity. It requires a delicate touch. Gentle charm, and creating a genuine connection with them almost always leads to demonstrating something that changes their minds. If I am successful, it is one of the most satisfying parts of my job. To approach a table full of sour faces and negative body language, only to leave it with hugs and requests for selfies and business cards, is a buzz that I am lucky enough to encounter regularly.
All of these awkward moments remain few and far between. And after years of experience, I can only recall one encounter where an alpha male really persisted with his need to show himself as a winner to the detriment of the moment. (And even then, everyone else in the room knew where the fault lay, and the evening picked itself up again soon after.) The maxim states that you “can’t please all of the people all of the time”. However, the overwhelming vast majority of my audiences offer me the most gracious compliments and even the most ardent naysayers can usually be teased into a position of joy and pleasure.