Chicago, town of magical beauty, is swarming with prestidigitators.
We’ve got the Magic Lounge, the Magic Parlour, the Rhapsody Theatre and the recently opened Hand & The Eye, a glam Magnificent Mile attraction modeled on the Magic Castle in Los Angeles and about the only live-entertainment venue in my experience that seems to avoid publicity.
But almost all of the shows in those places are aimed squarely at adults, the magic typically presented in a date-night, dress-up format of retro glamor. Great. But what we do not have is a family attraction, the kind of show where a kid stands a decent chance of being brought up on stage and allowed to watch, say, his or her tennis shoe disappear, or, to parental delight, to appear to have suddenly gained magic powers of his or her own.
Enter “Champions of Magic,” set for the summer at the Studebaker Theater and a show that probably could use a more accurate title, given that you are not buying a bunch of card tricks but witty, homemade versions of big, David Copperfield-style illusions — replete with Rube Goldberg-like contraptions, fire, pyrotechnics and cheerfully low-rent escapology.
This disarmingly funny (and fairly priced) thing is deliciously over the top. I’ve suffered through more than my share of confetti cannons over the years, but the one at this show went off with such force that it created a veritable ocean of the stuff. One had to surf through it to get out, and the pint-sized fan next to me did so with a face that suggested this was the greatest experience of his life to date.
Sawing a person in half is an illusionist’s staple. “Champions of Magic” does a version of that classic feat at least three times (maybe, four, depending on your definition) and manages to make it fun every time.
What makes the show defy expectations, though, is the aw-shucks personalities of the young British duo at its core, improbably named Richard Young and Sam Strange. What other choice of profession did they have?
Young and Stange invite comparisons to Penn and Teller, of course, but actually operate closer to the style of James Corden or the famous British comedy duo of Morecambe and Wise. Their magic sauce is self-deprecation, and they seem genuinely delighted to be doing their show, grinning from the stage that this is the longest-ever booking for their “family business,” baking in some Python-esque gags and extolling the audience to watch “America’s Got Talent,” where they said their debut was airing simultaneously with their Studebaker opening night. (I demurred, World Cup calling and all.)
Along with Young and Strange, the show presents Fernando Velasco, a 27-year-old Mexican escapologist whose signature here is walking across what appears merely to be a beam of light and setting various things on fire (a rare sight on a Chicago stage). Finally, there’s Liberty Larsen, a narrative illusionist whose material weaves in her own personal history. Larsen is a well-known name in magic: brothers Bill and Milt Larsen founded the Magic Castle and Liberty is the grandaughter of Bill and the great-granddaugther of Geri Larsen, a pioneering female magician. That stuff has currency in this most nepo baby-friendly of fields. I only wish these performers paid a bit more of a tribute to Chicago’s own magic traditions. Then again, they are from Los Angeles, Mexico and the United Kingdom, so maybe they did not know what we do here. And long have done.
Larsen was great with kids, drawing one girl into her noir storytelling and making the kid the heroine, but then so were Young and Strange, dry observers and first-rate improvisors both. “Champions of Magic” is a rare thing in that it manages to deliver both a Really Big Spectacle, but also make it seem like everyone involved did this on a budget on about 50 bucks. As such, it reminded me of a couple of my favorite Midwest things, the late-lamented Chicago company known as 500 Clown and the City Museum in St. Louis, a safe, dangerous place. That’s the vibe here.
I should note that my press kit contained several stacks of $100 bills, neatly arranged in authentic-looking $10,000 packets. Just as the lights went down and I was opening the envelope, a face appeared next to mine: “Just wanted to make sure your night went well,” it said, disappearing into the ether as fast as it came.
I didn’t examine the bills until I got home.
Chris Jones is a Tribune critic
cjones5@chicagotribune.com
Review: “Champions of Magic” (3.5 stars)
When: Through Aug. 23
Where: Studebaker Theater in the Fine Arts Building, 410 S. Michigan Ave.
Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes
Tickets: $49.50-$99.50 at 312-753-3210 and championsofmagictour.com
