Justin Purcell’s “Magic Is People”/Photo: Chicago Magic Lounge
It was my first visit to the Chicago Magic Lounge, one of the city’s centers for hocus-pocus, and my first impression was… wow. For readers who have never been, I’ll just say that crossing the threshold of this palace of prestidigitation, ensconced within a former commercial laundry on Clark Street, is a special experience, blending gothic mystery with speakeasy secretiveness. From that point on, the evening became more of a mixed bag. But the first moments inside the club make up for some later faux pas involving service and atmosphere.
Before getting to the main act itself—Justin Purcell’s one-man (plus a cameo cloaked Druid) act, “Magic Is People”—I should say something about the setup, which, like the magic show, is outwardly dazzling yet leaves a gnawing sense of not quite coming together.
The lounge’s mainstage, the Blackstone Cabaret—named after a celebrated Chicago-born magician of the last century—is large, lavish and comfortable, with over a hundred seats arranged mostly around tables. The décor tends toward a deep, soothing blue, with an actual red-velvet curtain festooning the stage and a proscenium arch with elegant Art Deco accents. A handful of nattily dressed, card-wielding magicians warm up the crowd, as drinks and small plates are served. It’s all very intimate and old-fashioned, a sort of tribute to the much-loved and much-missed Schulien’s Restaurant & Saloon, which for many years served up Chicago-style “close-up” magic, performed right on the bar, along with beers and chasers.
But the club’s retro ambience—not to mention the possibility of conversing with the roving magicians—was dispelled by the poundingly loud, contemporary music, just as the hoped-for aura of warmth and welcome was banished by the brusque, hard-edged manner of some staff members. The cocktail menu is extensive and the drinks are cutely named—“How Houdini Died” is one option—but the hot toddy ordered on this bitter mid-January night was served at room temperature, and the server didn’t hesitate to stop by to settle the bill at a key moment in the magic act. These are minor details of hospitality, but they began to accumulate, making the evening less memorable than it might have been.
After an hour or so of cocktails and card tricks, Purcell was introduced and launched into his act, which consists of small-scale, bar-style magic performed with coins, cards and balls. It’s all done with remarkable skill and panache, enough to satisfy the most demanding of magic connoisseurs. “Magic Is People” isn’t a David Copperfield-type spectacle with airplanes disappearing or a sequined assistant being sawed in half. Purcell’s specialty is tiny, detailed marvels of sleight of hand, projected at certain points onto a screen for all to see, with many tricks witnessed closely and intently by baffled spectators. It’s a classic show, very much in the Chicago tradition, with Purcell delivering a verbal tribute to Matt Schulien of Schulien’s Saloon and then performing one of his jaw-dropping feats, to the delectation of the enthusiastic audience.
Justin Purcell’s “Magic Is People”/Photo: Chicago Magic Lounge
And yet, something seemed missing from Purcell’s hour-long performance: the element of audience connection. Although his show is titled “Magic Is People,” Purcell remained at a remove from viewers, never creating an engaging persona or seeking a response beyond the periodic oohs and ahs. (A better title would have been “Magic Is Real,” the phrase with which Purcell punctuates his act.)
Perhaps Purcell—who, according to the press release, “plays drums for the feminist punk band The Cell Phones” when he’s not conjuring—is trying to inject some punky edge into his paying job. But was it really necessary to shout “You’re an f-ing liar” at a female audience member who denied having a silver dollar in her hair, just before extracting one? Although delivered in jest, such a comment crosses a line, turning the (presumably paying) customer from a participant into something closer to a victim. Nor could Purcell remember the name of another audience volunteer, asking her more than once to repeat it. Pacing was another issue. The show felt rushed, with little in the way of pauses to create suspense or let climactic moments sink in.
At its best, there’s a wonderful sort of corniness to stage magic, transporting us away from our jaded grown-up selves and back to our childhood openness to a world that still seemed capable of delighting and astonishing us. A magician’s personality has much to do with this process. If magicians can’t manage mysterious and otherworldly, they can at least be likable and charming. But glibness and irony—which characterize Purcell’s stage presence and patter—push us away from the wonder and bring us back to the skeptical, self-conscious world we’re trying to escape.
As I say, there’s a great deal in “Magic Is People” and the Chicago Magic Lounge to relish and admire: It is indeed high-level stage magic, presented with professional polish and aplomb. And the club seems to be doing very well, offering a variety of styles and talent to a packed and appreciative house, at least on the night I was in attendance. But success can lead to complacency and lapses in execution. The Magic Lounge would do well to remember that magic is not only people, it’s also theater—and that means close attention to setting, tone, timing and character.
Good theater, like magic or any other performing art, involves creating a unifying structure and telling an engaging story, one that gives some dimension to the action on stage. “Magic Is People” offers audiences many amazing moments, but unfortunately they never add up to anything really interesting.
Justin Purcell’s “Magic Is People” runs through March 18 at the Chicago Magic Lounge, 5050 North Clark. Tickets are $42 (standard) and $47.50 (front row), plus fees, available by calling the box office at (312)366-4500, or online at chicagomagiclounge.com.
