Welcome to the beginning of a 4 part essay on scripting. Let's cut to the chase, shall we?
A large part of what goes into magic is what you say… and what you don’t say. Language is a fascinating thing and magicians have been working on how to use it to their advantage for years. Kenton Knepper, Docc Hilford, Luke Jermay… all names you’re probably familiar with. These are men who have dedicated a large amount of time and work to studying the use of language in magic.
But sometimes it’s true that actions speak louder than words. Many magicians will complain that David Blaine’s minimalist scripting is not presentation. I just grin and shake my head whenever I hear that, because these are people who don’t understand the power of silence.
Let’s pause here for a second. Let’s compare David Blaine with a contemporary who has a totally different style: Paul Green. Both men are highly respected and very successful in their chosen ventures. Both of them love to work with cards. But they’re so different.
Now, the most obvious difference is that Paul has the gift of the gab. He has a quick wit, and never runs out of things to say. He’s always laughing, so he’s obviously a fun guy to be around. His pauses are few and far between but always with a sense of tact and purpose.
David on the other hand… He’s slow and meticulous. Quiet and deliberate in all of his movements as if he’s only half in our world…
Look over those two paragraphs again. Just from the way I phrased them, what impressions do they give you of each performer?
Are you beginning to see how important words (or the lack thereof) can be to a performance? That’s what we’re going to cover here in this essay.
To start with, let’s continue exploring the comparison between Paul Green and David Blaine.
David embraces the mysterious stranger principle because it allows him to equalize the audience. Because he says so little, he suddenly becomes more accessible while simultaneously being more alluring. He knows something, he just won’t tell you. And young or old, rich or poor, black or white, everybody wants to be in on a secret.
On the opposite side of the coin, Paul prefers to use charm and overt friendliness to build a rapport with his audiences. He treats them like old friends and keeps them laughing as humor is one of the most powerful bonds between human beings.
Neither approach is right or wrong, but they are only two of many ways to accomplish the same thing: connecting with people.
Now that we have that illustration out of the way, we’re going to go over four different principles to use in your scripting:
1. Mystery
2. Humor
3. Allegory
4. Commonalities
Mystery
Let’s go back to David for a second. David illustrates a principle that I’ve stated before as a way of explaining to people what not to do. It goes something like this:
Some people are mysterious because they don’t tell you anything. Some people are “mysterious” because they don’t know anything.
Mysteries are a wonderful thing, and people love them. We value that which we must earn, and a secret that is kept so tightly by a strong, silent stranger is of incredible value because of what it takes to earn it. But in the process, it’s the wondering and chasing that is ultimately more exciting, and we realize that deep down.
Stigmata – The magician starts by examining a spectator’s palm. After a moment of quiet thought, he removes a card from the deck then has a second card selected, which he asks the spectator to examine and pocket. He lays the first card face down on the table. The magician and spectator each take hold of one another buy the arms, holding onto each other and staring into the other’s eyes. The magician’s pulse quickens and his body language begins to mirror the spectator’s. He seems to experience some pain and asks if his arms seem to be getting warmer. They are. The spectator releases. On the magician’s forearms are faint burns showing a 7 and a D. 7 of Diamonds, the spectator’s card. The spectator turns over the tabled card: the 7 of Hearts.
At this point, some of you may be thinking that we’re magicians, and mystery is already built into what we do. True. But there are ways to make you part of the enigma rather than just the trick.
Derren Brown is a master of this. He subtly weaves red herrings into his scripting to lead an audience into thinking one thing, then shattering their ideas and expectations by the end by defying his own explanations. Furthermore, he brings his own audience members in on the illusions, leading them to wonder if they have just become a conduit for some paranormal phenomenon.
In effect, Derren is a mystery unto himself and by virtue of his performance style his spectators become another thread in the web.
Mercury – The aces from an all-white Tiger deck represent 4 of the 5 phases of the moon: full, gibbous, half, and crescent. One by one, each is eclipsed and obscured. At the final shake, the eclipse is gone, but all the cards are blank, showing the final phase of the new moon.
A persona of mystery relies not only on withholding information, but also making sure that whatever language you do use either is equally bereft of real info, or (my preference) evokes imagery that stirs the imagination. You may right now be intrigued by the two descriptions of performances it italics above. You’ll be seeing more of this in the article, as these are illustrations of my points.
The performance of Stigmata can be done only saying a grand total of three or four sentences, but the power it creates is undeniable.
The performance of Mercury evokes the romantic imagery of the moon, and the dark allure of eclipses and the endless darkness of the night sky.
Clear examples of the power of what you say… and what you don’t say.
In the absence of explanations, the human imagination runs wild. Their explanations are often better than our own, and much more colorful. A magician who utilizes the power of mystery in his scripting is part of a reality where the things that everyone else considers strange and mystical are commonplace. He feels no more need to explain how a rose appeared in that puff of fire than he does to explain how the zippo he used to light it in the first place works. It’s impressive, cool even. But it doesn’t need to be explained by Bill Nye the Science Guy, and it doesn’t need the performer to comment on it being strange because (as I said) it isn’t for him.
This is similar to the writing cliché of the character with no past. What a load of crap. They have a past, they just don’t talk about it. The thing that makes it work in a character like Wolverine from The X-Men for example is that the people writing his adventures already know what his past is. They know, but they’re keeping it a secret.
For a magician to work this style convincingly, he must internalize this paradigm. What he’s doing isn’t strange to him, so he has no need to point it out. He knows what’s going on, he’s just not telling you about it because he doesn’t think of it. He doesn’t need to. He’s mysterious because he does know what’s going on… but he doesn’t explain it.
A large part of what goes into magic is what you say… and what you don’t say. Language is a fascinating thing and magicians have been working on how to use it to their advantage for years. Kenton Knepper, Docc Hilford, Luke Jermay… all names you’re probably familiar with. These are men who have dedicated a large amount of time and work to studying the use of language in magic.
But sometimes it’s true that actions speak louder than words. Many magicians will complain that David Blaine’s minimalist scripting is not presentation. I just grin and shake my head whenever I hear that, because these are people who don’t understand the power of silence.
Let’s pause here for a second. Let’s compare David Blaine with a contemporary who has a totally different style: Paul Green. Both men are highly respected and very successful in their chosen ventures. Both of them love to work with cards. But they’re so different.
Now, the most obvious difference is that Paul has the gift of the gab. He has a quick wit, and never runs out of things to say. He’s always laughing, so he’s obviously a fun guy to be around. His pauses are few and far between but always with a sense of tact and purpose.
David on the other hand… He’s slow and meticulous. Quiet and deliberate in all of his movements as if he’s only half in our world…
Look over those two paragraphs again. Just from the way I phrased them, what impressions do they give you of each performer?
Are you beginning to see how important words (or the lack thereof) can be to a performance? That’s what we’re going to cover here in this essay.
To start with, let’s continue exploring the comparison between Paul Green and David Blaine.
David embraces the mysterious stranger principle because it allows him to equalize the audience. Because he says so little, he suddenly becomes more accessible while simultaneously being more alluring. He knows something, he just won’t tell you. And young or old, rich or poor, black or white, everybody wants to be in on a secret.
On the opposite side of the coin, Paul prefers to use charm and overt friendliness to build a rapport with his audiences. He treats them like old friends and keeps them laughing as humor is one of the most powerful bonds between human beings.
Neither approach is right or wrong, but they are only two of many ways to accomplish the same thing: connecting with people.
Now that we have that illustration out of the way, we’re going to go over four different principles to use in your scripting:
1. Mystery
2. Humor
3. Allegory
4. Commonalities
Mystery
Let’s go back to David for a second. David illustrates a principle that I’ve stated before as a way of explaining to people what not to do. It goes something like this:
Some people are mysterious because they don’t tell you anything. Some people are “mysterious” because they don’t know anything.
Mysteries are a wonderful thing, and people love them. We value that which we must earn, and a secret that is kept so tightly by a strong, silent stranger is of incredible value because of what it takes to earn it. But in the process, it’s the wondering and chasing that is ultimately more exciting, and we realize that deep down.
Stigmata – The magician starts by examining a spectator’s palm. After a moment of quiet thought, he removes a card from the deck then has a second card selected, which he asks the spectator to examine and pocket. He lays the first card face down on the table. The magician and spectator each take hold of one another buy the arms, holding onto each other and staring into the other’s eyes. The magician’s pulse quickens and his body language begins to mirror the spectator’s. He seems to experience some pain and asks if his arms seem to be getting warmer. They are. The spectator releases. On the magician’s forearms are faint burns showing a 7 and a D. 7 of Diamonds, the spectator’s card. The spectator turns over the tabled card: the 7 of Hearts.
At this point, some of you may be thinking that we’re magicians, and mystery is already built into what we do. True. But there are ways to make you part of the enigma rather than just the trick.
Derren Brown is a master of this. He subtly weaves red herrings into his scripting to lead an audience into thinking one thing, then shattering their ideas and expectations by the end by defying his own explanations. Furthermore, he brings his own audience members in on the illusions, leading them to wonder if they have just become a conduit for some paranormal phenomenon.
In effect, Derren is a mystery unto himself and by virtue of his performance style his spectators become another thread in the web.
Mercury – The aces from an all-white Tiger deck represent 4 of the 5 phases of the moon: full, gibbous, half, and crescent. One by one, each is eclipsed and obscured. At the final shake, the eclipse is gone, but all the cards are blank, showing the final phase of the new moon.
A persona of mystery relies not only on withholding information, but also making sure that whatever language you do use either is equally bereft of real info, or (my preference) evokes imagery that stirs the imagination. You may right now be intrigued by the two descriptions of performances it italics above. You’ll be seeing more of this in the article, as these are illustrations of my points.
The performance of Stigmata can be done only saying a grand total of three or four sentences, but the power it creates is undeniable.
The performance of Mercury evokes the romantic imagery of the moon, and the dark allure of eclipses and the endless darkness of the night sky.
Clear examples of the power of what you say… and what you don’t say.
In the absence of explanations, the human imagination runs wild. Their explanations are often better than our own, and much more colorful. A magician who utilizes the power of mystery in his scripting is part of a reality where the things that everyone else considers strange and mystical are commonplace. He feels no more need to explain how a rose appeared in that puff of fire than he does to explain how the zippo he used to light it in the first place works. It’s impressive, cool even. But it doesn’t need to be explained by Bill Nye the Science Guy, and it doesn’t need the performer to comment on it being strange because (as I said) it isn’t for him.
This is similar to the writing cliché of the character with no past. What a load of crap. They have a past, they just don’t talk about it. The thing that makes it work in a character like Wolverine from The X-Men for example is that the people writing his adventures already know what his past is. They know, but they’re keeping it a secret.
For a magician to work this style convincingly, he must internalize this paradigm. What he’s doing isn’t strange to him, so he has no need to point it out. He knows what’s going on, he’s just not telling you about it because he doesn’t think of it. He doesn’t need to. He’s mysterious because he does know what’s going on… but he doesn’t explain it.
