I’m guessing it was the prevalence of conjuring shows on TV a while back that sparked fresh interest in a new generation of magicians. Founded in 2012, The Wellington Magic Club now boasts 26 members across quite an age range – and just one is female, although the club is “open to anyone and everyone”.  

It’s an all-male line-up on the opening night of their Magicians of Wellington show at BATS – curated and directed by WMC president Jeremy Rolston – and the roll-call will vary over the three-night season.

Our host, the ubiquitous James Nokise, does a sterling job of making us all feel happy to volunteer or not mind being picked to assist: a key component of the ‘Parlour Magic’ in which this low-key yet astonishing show trades.

The audience ranges from pre-school to over 80 and when Chelfyn Baxter needs four volunteers he makes the mistake of rejecting a very young boy. The lad’s tragic slump and Baxter’s audience-induced change of heart creates an unscheduled magic moment – and the boy’s mother joins her son on standby.

Five packs of cards are unsealed, four are handed to the volunteers to shuffle – and another boy (about nine, I’d guess) shows an aptitude that would grace any high class gaming table. They each extract a card, hold it close to their chest, and toss the rest into a clear plastic bag so the full range of face-values is visible. Baxter’s pack-minus-one goes in there too: 255 of the total 260 cards.

As he reveals his 3 of Clubs then each of the others do the same in turn, Baxter recites the widening odds for the next one being identical. I love this level of magic.

Nopera Whitely conjures a bottle of wine from two flimsy handkerchiefs and does the rope trick we’ve seen so often, yet – speaking for myself, at least – continue to be baffled by. Many years ago I performed in a show that included the tear-up-a-newspaper then shake-it-back-together trick, so I scrutinise Whitely’s rendition for tell-tale signs. He does it well, earning our collective gasp and applause.

‘The applied science of the imaginary solution’ is Mike Kay’s speciality, dressed up here in an intriguing narrative about his being a consultant for NZ Post who pitched the idea that mail could know where to go and find its way there of its own accord. With five volunteers to help him out, his proof is impressive. Even if a ‘plant’ were involved (which I am assured is not the case), he still needs good mental arithmetic skills to make it work.

Matt Carter engages an audience member to choose: a dinner date, one of two envelopes, a song title from a bag full … A tiny music box mechanism is extracted from a wooden box to play the magically accurate melody. (If this is done again maybe Nokise could use his hand-held mic to amplify it. 

‘Old magic’ is invoked by Cameron Anderson in casual wizard attire. Having used a convincing means of proving his ‘volunteer’ is randomly picked, he gets him to secretly write down something he desires then rip it up and burn it. When Anderson draws it large on another piece of paper, the volunteer’s partner cries out, “Oh. My. God.” Before he sees it, the volunteer confirms his heart’s desire is a hedge. Yes, a hedge. Who’d have guessed?

It’s back to cards with Reuben Tyrie. Excelling in sleight-of-hand, his skill at the ‘Three Card Monty’ scam is astounding as he proves conclusively, “The money card is always where you least expect it.” Be warned if you see this in the street.

Jeremy Rolston and his long-time performing partner Kade Nightingale have incorporated magic in their Comedy Festival shows. Here they employ a black balloon, a pack of cards, sticky tape, a piece of chalk, two chalkboard tablets, two audience volunteers and sexually tacky repartee (over the heads of the kids in the audience) to conjure another ‘OMG how did they do that!’ moment.

Magicians of Wellington offers top drawer lo-fi trickery – until Saturday. 

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