Enchantment With a Twist

As children, we have an almost instinctive belief in magic. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny reign undisputed. But as we grow up, the belief of our youth wanes, whether through cynicism or well meaning adults. Seeking to rekindle that belief in the extraordinary is The Illusionists, now taking up residence at the Overture Center.

The presentation is not that of your typical magic show. Illusions are accompanied by flashing lights, drumbeats that reverberate in your chest, and dancing assistants in leather that isn’t so much protective as decorative. It’s also rare that any of the seven illusionists appear onstage together, the performance is composed more of individual tricks by individual illusionists than collaboration between performers.

That said, the execution of each trick is exquisite. Rarely is the secret evident, and in most cases, the end result is enough to keep the audience from hypothesizing. Particularly notable in this regard is Kevin James’s The Inventor, charming the audience with illusions that bring back the nostalgia of childhood.

On the other end of the spectrum is Dan Sperry’s Anti-Conjuror, a vulgar rocker with long hair and white face paint. Sperry’s barely veiled sexual innuendo keeps the adults entertained and the children mystified. That isn’t to say that he is less talented than the others. At one point in the show, he performs a run of captivating sleight of hand tricks that goes for at least five minutes, all while completely silent.

However, the question of whether or not this performance is appropriate for children still remains. Although the ticket states that children under six cannot be admitted, I have to wonder if that’s entirely accurate. The sexual nature of a few of the characters (Sperry and Jeff Hobson’s Trickster) not to mention a number of violent illusions suggest a more stringent rating. The assistants, dressed in leather that reveals much more than it conceals, are another concern.

But regardless of whether or not it’s appropriate for children, The Illusionists provides an updated take on magic that is much darker than its origins. Gone are the genial men in tails and a top hat, transforming rabbits with a wave of their white tipped wand. In their place are a group of men as varied and diverse as the world we live in today. (As much as a show that only features male illusionists can be diverse.) With its spectacle and stunning feats of deception, the Illusionists is a show that will make the adults in the room believe in magic again.

Love Above All at Romeo and Juliet

Romeo and Juliet, by Charles Gounod, opens with a tableau showing the feud between the warring Capulets and Montagues. One ensemble member takes a swing at another, and both go down in an enthusiastic, if overacted display of stage violence.

It doesn’t get much better from there.

Part of the problem may be John Irvin’s Romeo. He has a pleasant tenor and certainly looks the part, but his acting lacks conviction in certain places and temperance in others. Irvin has potential, but perhaps would have been served by a little more attention to his acting.

Sidney Outlaw and Chris Carr, as Mercutio and Tybalt, perform creditably, but there isn’t quite enough of them to satisfy. However, their duel in Act Three is one of the few times that the stage fighting doesn’t seem choreographed.

The costumes for Romeo and Juliet were provided by Malabar Ltd., and clothe the Montagues in blue and Capulets in red and gold. Besides being a little facile for an opera that’s supposed to be about the pointlessness of hatred and feuding, it would be nice if the lighting didn’t turn the gold to a particularly ugly orange.

Emily Birsan (Juliet), however, is the glittering star of the show. She handles Gounod’s tricky arias with composure, and her soprano voice is clear and pure. She captures Juliet’s youth and tempers it with determination.

But the biggest issue is the writing itself. Gounod’s opera focuses almost solely on the lovers, to the exclusion of everything else. Without showing more of the feuding, the forbidden nature of Romeo and Juliet’s relationship is less believable. Gounod even cuts the final scene of Shakespeare’s play, where the two feuding families, filled with despair at the deaths of their children, reconcile with each other. Without that ending, the story of Romeo and Juliet isn’t about overcoming hatred. It’s about beautiful people dying. Without knowing that the lovers’ deaths aren’t in vain, what, I ask, is the point?