★★★★✰
The Art of Illusion begins with a crime.
In 1984, August (Brian Martin), a talented pickpocket, has stolen April’s (Bettrys Jones) bag on the Paris Métro. But upon seeing her passport, he is captivated by her beauty and contacts her to return it, with the story that he found it on the platform. From the get-go, things are not quite as they seem. Translated from the French by Waleed Akhtar, The Art of Illusion is the UK premiere of the multi-award winning and much acclaimed 2014 play, originally titled Le Cercle d’Illusionistes. Guided by a mysterious figure named as ‘The Watchmaker’ (Martin Hyder), who plays a variety of roles from narrator to conjurer to waiter, we are taken between nineteenth and twentieth century Paris to learn about a variety of magical figures that the city has housed.
It’s hard to discuss the plot of the play without spoiling something, and it is far too complex a narrative to summarise in a few lines. Even disclosing characters’ full names could ruin key moments of realisation, the audience’s gasps audible in the intimate setting of Hampstead Theatre’s Downstairs space. The small theatre is a boon for the production, with bouts of close-up magic and audience engagement far more impactful than they would be in a larger room. It also enhances the feeling that you are being told a story, gathered around The Watchmaker as he tells his tale.
While the stage is small, the cast turns it into an underground theatre, a train, a cafe and a car with ease. The use of props is ingenious, with travels represented by toy cars and boats being carried about the stage and torchlight manipulated to mimic an old-fashioned kinetoscope. The production is a masterclass in how to do a lot with relatively little. The energy of the cast is immense, with the six-handed production requiring an impressive amount of coordination and character changes to tell the story. In such a small theatre it can be difficult to maintain the desired atmosphere, but the actors’ vibrancy and the dynamic choreography of the production mean that there is never a point when one of the many plates being spun starts to fall.
Although somewhat frenetic at times, The Art of Illusion consistently surprises and delights. The constant shifts between eras and the number of plot points to keep track of during the short 105-minute runtime have the potential to create a confusing, muddled chaos, but Alexis Michalik’s script, Akhtar’s translation, Tom Jackson Greaves’ direction and the stellar performances of the ensemble will have you leaving the theatre with a smile on your face.
One oft-repeated line is “your time will come.” As characters lament being too old to achieve what they want, or fear that their dreams are impossible, they are encouraged to wait it out; they’ll get where they need to be. It’s a comforting message, and one that is delivered with the acknowledgement that magic can come from anywhere. In a world where everything is demystified, The Art of Illusion is a space where you can let yourself believe—in fate, love, and even magic.
At risk of sounding saccharine, The Art of Illusion reminds us that magic is all around us, in countless forms. Whether it’s automatons, moving pictures or video games, there will always be innovation that intrigues and astounds.
Words by Lucy Carter
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