Such a simple yet 'profound' moment of confusion, in this short clip by magician Michael Carbonaro, subjecting unsuspecting members of the public to magic tricks.
Sitting at a bar, receiving a large drink, from which he proceeds to extract seemingly inexhaustible amounts of fruit, cocktail umbrellas, and even an egg seemingly containing a live parakeet, Michael Carbonaro's unsuspecting victim seems bemused and, in her own words, 'happy' at this oddly impossible feat (and Michael does a good job of feigning surprise himself).
The interesting moment comes at the end, when the magician reveals that A. This was all a magic trick, and B. You're on TV. The audience member (now turned into an audience member, we could say), seems less concerned about the television element, but does offer a great comment: firstly, she tells Michael how much she loves magic. Then, it slowly dawns on her what happened, and that the amazing bottomless drink must be a magic trick. 'That whole thing was magic? You just did all this? That was not.... the drink?'
It's as though magic needs an author, a person responsible for these feats, a centre of animation, a puppet master, etc. Before the revelation, when Michael is haplessly performing as though magic was happening to him, the illusion is solid: something delightful and wonderful is happening here, who knows why... But as soon as the premise is clear - that someone is behind all this, making it happen intentionally - that's when we shift into magic.
Or something.
Sitting at a bar, receiving a large drink, from which he proceeds to extract seemingly inexhaustible amounts of fruit, cocktail umbrellas, and even an egg seemingly containing a live parakeet, Michael Carbonaro's unsuspecting victim seems bemused and, in her own words, 'happy' at this oddly impossible feat (and Michael does a good job of feigning surprise himself).
The interesting moment comes at the end, when the magician reveals that A. This was all a magic trick, and B. You're on TV. The audience member (now turned into an audience member, we could say), seems less concerned about the television element, but does offer a great comment: firstly, she tells Michael how much she loves magic. Then, it slowly dawns on her what happened, and that the amazing bottomless drink must be a magic trick. 'That whole thing was magic? You just did all this? That was not.... the drink?'
It's as though magic needs an author, a person responsible for these feats, a centre of animation, a puppet master, etc. Before the revelation, when Michael is haplessly performing as though magic was happening to him, the illusion is solid: something delightful and wonderful is happening here, who knows why... But as soon as the premise is clear - that someone is behind all this, making it happen intentionally - that's when we shift into magic.
Or something.
RSS Feed