E-Club ProThe Comedy Zone
The Whitesands International Close Up Competition
On Saturday 18th November the annual Whitesands International Close Up Competition took place at the Whitesands Memorial Bingo Hall. Following last year's fiasco, every magician present had commented afterwards that he could have done better. Unfortunately, virtually every single audience member took it upon himself to prove the point with the result that this year's event had 217 entrants.
As usual the organisers had arranged 19 tables in an interesting topological shape around the room, each performing area being cosily situated within breathing distance of nearly all the others, this having the considerable benefit of allowing the spectators to both see and hear any of the other 18 simultaneously performing acts. This was just as well since, due to the permutations of the performing rota, I would only be having 6 of the 217 entrants actually appear at my table.
Chairs for the spectators were thoughtfully arranged in 8 straight rows in front of each table, and it was nice to see that all rows were on the same level, thus affording everyone an equal opportunity of claiming a seat at the back and thus being able to engage in sarcastic, know-it-all conversations about the performers without the danger of actually being seen by them.
With the competition due to start at 10am, the doors were opened promptly at 10.49 to allow a heaving mass of impatient magical bodies to erupt into the room and begin the annual ritual of fighting for a seat within spitting distance of the front. If it had not been for the fact that I had managed to get into the room earlier on the pretext of putting ashtrays on all the performing tables, I would not have been able to make advance claim on a seat just 4 rows from the front of table 13. The 3 rows in front of mine had been reserved for visiting magical dignitaries and important members of the Whitesands Magic Club. I just hoped I would not be deafened by the sound of their snoring.
Following 15 minutes of shoving and argument, the spectators were finally all settled and a hum of expectancy and perspiration filled the non-air conditioned room. I looked across to the area set aside for the performers (privately situated next to the squeaking door leading to the toilets) and I felt a touch of sympathy for the sweating, twitching, fidgeting heap of humanity which comprised the 217 competitors. Some were agitatedly peering with wild, red-rimmed eyes into their close-up attache cases trying to plan an act, others constantly shoved their hands into all their pockets and topits checking repeatedly that everything was in its place and thus doing a remarkable impression of someone chasing a small rodent which had somehow got loose under his clothing.
A somewhat startling screech of feedback heralded the appearance of John Grunge at the room's one microphone to announce the rules of the competition. Whether John actually needed to go through all 408 rules is debatable, but at least it gave the spectators the chance to be well informed in the unlikely event that any of the competitors should accidentally comply with any of the clauses. I was particularly relieved to hear that each competitor would this year only be allowed a maximum of 6 minutes as this meant that no act was likely to be longer than 20.
Finally the contest began. First at my table was Albert Grimethorpe. Albert is one of the founder members of Whitesands Magic Club, and I felt it was both an honour and a surprise to see him enter his 86th consecutive event. Having shuffled to the table, he placed his uniquely wallpaper-covered attache case on the performing area, opened the lid and disappeared into the interior of the case for several minutes. I am not sure what he was doing or why, but from the amount of mumbling and tutting emanating from the inside of the case, I take it that the prop needed for his first miracle had become un-set during his stagger from the preparation area to the table.
Eventually the case lid slammed shut, but unfortunately it was before Albert had had time to remove his head from the inside of the case, with the result that Albert had to be whisked away to Whitesands Royal Infirmary to have the case surgically removed from his body. I guess it would have been quicker and easier if anyone had been able to actually make out the sequence of numbers Albert was trying to make known from within the case, as this would have allowed someone to release the combination lock on the case lid.
After this unexpectedly entertaining start to the contest, things started to nose-dive with the arrival of competitor number 2, Eddie Loudmouth. Eddie's performing technique was a crystallisation (as he incorrectly saw it) of Billy McComb's raconteur style. While performing just one trick as he overran his allotted time, Eddie would bellow an unremitting series of totally unconnected and unbelievably tasteless one line gags. There was no subject Eddie was afraid to tackle, and tackle them he did with blinding enthusiasm which guaranteed that by the end of his act there was not a single member of the audience who had not been grossly offended by him at least once. As I extracted my fingers from my sore ears at the end of his show, I reminded myself not to share a room with Eddie at the next FISM convention.
Third performer of our allotted 6 was Hank 'Crazy Man' Chuckout from the United States. Wow, what a zany character. I had not seen Hank do his stuff before, but I had read many times great, glowing write-ups in the American glossy magazines and they said he was wonderful, so I knew he must be. However, I must admit to being a little confused as to what he actually did. I remember he shouted a lot, and everybody laughed, and then he threw some decks of cards all over the floor, and everybody laughed, and this was followed by him half performing a trick before accidentally (?) revealing how it was done, and everybody laughed, and his big finish consisted of him tipping the contents of his close up case over the head of a startled lady in the front row. And everybody laughed again. He retired to thunderous applause and all around me people were drying their eyes, demisting their glasses and shaking their heads with inane ear to ear grins on their faces. I decided not to renew my subscription to any American glossy magazines.
It was with a great sense of relief that I spotted Wayne Smoothie gliding up to our table next. Now here was a real close up performer. With effortless ease, Wayne treated us to all his best close quarter magic. His dove steals were perfect, his Silken Fountain a crowd pleaser and his final production of a 2 ton cannonball from under a Chop Cup (a cup which he immediately showed to be totally solid) brought the audience to its feet as it always did. Well, it was the only way you would get a view of the ball on the table top. Short is sweet, they say, and his 2 minute act certainly went to the top of my list of possible winners, although I did feel that the 20 minutes it took him to clear the table of his props afterwards might count a touch against him in the 'table hopping' category on the judges' mark sheets.
Walter Needatrick is not a name you may have heard of before, not unless you are a magic dealer, that is. Walter enters every year with a brand new act of totally untried and unroutined material, all of which has been lovingly ordered from The Superb Magic Company's catalogue. We were treated to such visual gems as the Floating Needle in Test Tube, the barehand production of an orange pip, and the hit trick of the year, which everyone is doing, Card Locator. For those who never read ads or who have been dead for the last year, the plot of Card Locator is as follows. 51 spectators each select a card from a deck and show them to the rest of the audience. The chosen cards are reassembled around the one remaining card and the performer, having shuffled the deck, has to try and find the one card not selected. Unfortunately, Walter seemed to have a little trouble working this snappy miracle, but you could almost hear the applause when after 36 minutes he found the right card on the 52nd attempt.
The final contestant at table 13 was Herman Schnell from Germany. Renowned as a card technician, Herman sat down at the table, cracked his knuckles obscenely loudly, and removed 32 packs of cards from his case. For the next few minutes he dazzled us with a display of card control and general dexterity which defies description, especially since it was all flat on the table and from my position in the fourth row, impossible to see. However, on speaking to one of the front row celebrities afterwards during a monologue about their latest book, video and lecture tour, I was told that the most amazing part of his act comes when he displays the faces of a shuffled deck, gets someone to mix the cards some more, and then, with absolutely no visible moves, immediately fans the deck to reveal every card is back in its original random order! Stunning, and so entertaining. Herman's command of English is patchy to say the least, but fortunately his act did not actually have any patter or presentation so nobody noticed. I was sure that Herman would push Wayne Smoothie close in the final placings.
So it was that a mere 22 hours after it had started, this year's Whitesands International Close Up Competition ground to a finish. As the spectators shuffled in a bleary-eyed, comatose group out of the room and headed for the dealers room and the bar, I glanced around at the disarray of chairs, tables and torn card quarters and experienced a feeling of cosy well being. Once again, nothing had changed, no one had tried to be different or break with tradition, all the performers had successfully lived down to everybody's expectations, and the organisers could rest assured that all the conventioneers would be back again next year to go through it all again. After all, who wants to be challenged with something new or better?
