Magic as Theater

I am standing in the middle of a red room, surrounded on three sides by chairs and college-aged students. I can see them if I look, but I don't. There's no reason to; I'm not talking to them.

I am, instead, talking to Reigner. He's the intruder, trying to fool me into thinking that he's the King. I laugh at him and raise my torch up into the air.

"Reigner, is it thou that thinkest to beguile me?"

Before he can say my name, I look around and I find him. My torch transforms into a rose the moment the light reaches the King's face. King Charles. The Dauphin. I bow my head. He calls me Joan. I smile, but he doesn't trust me. He won't trust me unless I prove myself in combat.

I pull out my weapon - a red silk, stained with the blood of the English. I wave it and a long black cane appears. I point it at the Dauphin's neck.

"I am prepared; here is my keen-edged sword."

He believes me now. As I go on with a metaphor to describe glory and the wheel of fortune for the bloody Brits, I spread my hand around a bottle. It vibrates... shakes in place until, finally, it falls over. Water spills out onto the table. I look up, completely still, as I say my final lines.

It was 10:00am on a Tuesday morning. For fifteen minutes, I played the French Joan of Arc.

--

For my Shakespeare class, my professor assigned me the task of acting out a scene from a play. Directed by a TA familiar with the theater arts, I was assigned the role of Joan of Arc in the play Henry VI, Part I.

As illustrated in the scene above, I inserted various magical moments into the scene. But the most educational part of this experience came in the acting instruction. I noticed that, when I perform, I have the tendency to step back or move my feet immediately after the climax of an act. The importance of silence in that "moment of astonishment" has long been hammered into my head.

We've all heard that magical mantra - Silence is Power.
This experience taught me something else: Stillness is Power.

It's the hardest thing in the world, to stand completely still when the adrenaline and rush of a successful effect runs through your veins. When your spectator jumps around, it's impossible not to want to jump as well. When you're nervous, it's impossible not to want to riffle the deck, spin a card, or shift your weight from side to side.

But... it's powerful if you can pull it off. I've learned to channel all my nervousness into my toes. I curl them and wiggle them under cover of my shoes... while I keep my legs still and my fingers calm. It takes a great deal of self control to conquer old habits. It takes a great deal of self control to keep that card still after a successful Ambitious Card Routine, when all you really want to do is spin that thing between your fingers.

Stillness aside, I've also heard an interesting statement: "When you're on stage, you want to speak very slowly. If it feels to you as though you're speaking at a normal pace, you're talking too fast."

Is this true in magic? I feel as though my normal talking pace is fine in close-up/walkaround situations. I also know that I talk too fast (according to my parents, at least). So I do slow down when I perform. But should I slow down that much more on stage? I wonder if anyone with any experience on stage knows how to answer that?

Then there's blocking. In theater, every line and every beat is matched with an action. Every character on stage, whether or not he or she is in the spotlight, knows exactly what to do and when to do it. They move across the stage, fall down on one knee, tighten jaw, close eyes, hug XX... etc, etc. You know what I mean. Every movement is planned out.

In stage magic, would this be the same? From a magic seminar that I was involved in this past summer, I remember Tyas Frantz saying that each stage show should have certain photogenic moments, that magicians should plan out certain visuals for the spectators.

Magicians often bloc for better angles. They bloc to make certain effects work.
But how often do they bloc... just to make something look pretty?

Aesthetics aren't worthless.
As technical magicians, we don't need aesthetics. But as magicians, performers, and artists, aesthetics are everything.

They help make magic beautiful.

And, if we can learn all this from the theater, what else does acting have to offer magic?