On May 19 on ABC, these words opened a television special unlike any that has gone before. Even before the program aired, the promotional spots conveyed the sense that something special was on its way. In these teasers cards danced in the air, flew at the camera, appeared reflected in an eye. These ultra-hip, ultra-cool spots would later be attributed to Spike Lee.

Happily, the show is receiving positive reviews in the magic press (I'll mention sources below), but the internet chitchat has been less favorable. An inherent jealousy surfaces whenever a new light bursts onto the magic scene, from the guys sitting in the back of the room at the Magic Castle, from the guys at home watching the special on tv, or from the columnists in such godforsaken holes as south central Indiana. These fellows never pause, it seems, to wonder why they are in the back row at the Magic Castle rather than on the Palace of Mystery stage, why they are watching a tv special instead of starring in one, or why they are writing about magic rather than being written about. I witnessed this reaction when Doug Henning created such a stir by taking ancient stage illusions and making them modern, and I expected and witnessed the same when young Mr. Blaine came along.

Their primal cry is that they and their friends are "better" than the performer in question. Although in some cases they may possess a greater technical proficiency at certain moves ("My Elmsley count is better than yours," etc.), they fail to comprehend that there is more to show business than playing the scales. Countless Julliard graduates are "better" than Elvis Presley, but none will achieve what he achieved in the field of music. If you haven't had your own television special yet, there is probably a reason, and that reason is not simply that you aren't as "lucky" as David Blaine.

The first thing that amazed me about this 22-year-old performer is how many things he did right within the special:

• He invented a completely original premise. There has never been a special quite like this. David performed street magic -- on real streets, not just at yuppie street fairs -- all across the country, in such places as Times Square, Atlantic City, Dallas, Compton, San Francisco, and the Mojave Desert. He performed on sidewalks, in an NFL locker room, on the waterfront, in a park, on the steps of a body piercing joint.

  

• He performed for real people. Most televised specials are for select theater audiences. David performed for young black girls, drinking white ladies, people hanging out in parks, old Asian men and young Asian girls, professional football players, old Jewish ladies, home boys, an old man who just walked out of the welfare department, firemen, hospital staff, a stocky white boy, modern day hippies. He treated each with complete respect, whether the spectator was Deion Sanders or a body-pierced guy named Froot Loops. Because these were real people with agendas, not stuck in their theater seats at $40 a pop, considerably greater effort at spectator management was called for, and it was a joy to watch David do this.
  

• He evoked extraordinary responses. By this I don't just mean applause or standing ovations, the traditional figures of merit for a magic show. Rather, people bopped him, screamed, laughed in sheer astonishment, had the color drain from their faces in shock, clasped their hands over their mouths, or literally ran away in fear. All verbally expressed complete bewilderment at what he was showing them.
  

• He surfed the moment of astonishment. While watching the show, I was immediately struck by the fact that David was doing what Paul Harris was preaching in his new trilogy, The Art of Astonishment: "A bigger challenge is to train yourself not to step on the moment . . . don't tell a joke or apologize or hurry on to the next trick." The best example of this was when David did a Raven vanish of a quarter off a boy's hand. The boy froze and stared at his hand for an eternity. David said nothing, let the magic sink in. The boy finally captured the moment with a single word: "Cool." Cool indeed. It was much later that I learned that the magic consultants for this show were Paul Harris and Michael Weber.
  

• He was the star, despite celebrity guests. In the early days of modern television specials, starting with that first wonderful Doug Henning special, the networks apparently felt that a new magician could only be "sold" to an audience by using a big name celebrity to host the show and introduce the performer. David used Leonardo DiCaprio throughout the show, but in casual conversational settings, using the time to allow David to explain his concept of magic that is close-up and personal. (It was interesting in itself to use DiCaprio, a huge new film star but not all that well-known to the average tv couch potato; the choice itself was inherently hip.) Celebrity football players were also used, but merely as spectators, without any undue hype.
  

• He told no jokes. My tastes in magic are eclectic (in this issue alone I like both David Blaine and Melinda, for example), and I love comedy magic, from the machine gun one-liners of a Harry Allen to the outlandish physical comedy of a Tom Mullica or a David Williamson. It is refreshing nonetheless to see a performer entertain, and get monster laughs, by telling no jokes whatsoever. (The closest thing David did to an overt gag was to hand a girl her card after producing it from his mouth. As simple as that was, his timing was impeccable and got a huge laugh.)
  

• He made the magic seem real. Without quite casting himself as the next Uri Geller, he openly presented his magic as real rather than as sleight of hand or as store bought apparatus, even to the point of repeatedly casting doubt on the outcome: "I honestly doubt that I'll be able to do this one . . ." "It's difficult with all this noise . . ." Eugene Burger had been counseling this approach for years, as have the instructors of the Mystery School. They now have an extraordinary teaching tape of how to do just that. It also helped that David presented direct, mostly visual magic: a cigarette penetrates a quarter, a man bites a chunk out of a coin, a card rises from a deck, a human being lifts off the sidewalk. You can start religions with this stuff.
  

• He did a lot of magic. Some specials are more hype than meat. Not in this case. David presented at least 22 different effects in his hour (Racherbaumer counted 26, and I'll trust his count), and many of them were repeated for different audiences. This repetition, another major innovation, both reinforced the strength of the effects as well as let the tv audience in on the fun of doing magic, of getting to witness different reactions to the same routine. (Remember the old saw of "Learn six tricks and learn them well"? That's great advice until you become the headliner at your comedy club and they expect 45 minutes, or land a tv special and they expect an hour.)
  

• He used television expertly. The filming and the editing were state of the art and gave the audience the incredible sense of being there. I've read a lot of flack about the fact that the Balducci levitation was artificially enhanced. If you're familiar with the method, you probably realize that it wouldn't look that great if filmed. But what was shown on tv is what real people think they see when you do it. And the reactions, to David performing the illusion with no enhancement, were all one could possibly hope for from any magical effect. It's a shame, in a way, that David did this effect, because a lot of inept magicians are going to "learn" this effect and botch it, and thus expose it as a trivial stunt (in their hands) rather than as the true miracle that it is in David Blaine's hands.
  

The second thing that is so wonderful here is that the special exists at all. I'll leave it to Stan Allen and his staff to reveal the details of how David Blaine landed this special, but I am in awe of the story of how this young man, on his own, sold the show, assembled a team, beautifully created the show, and edited and produced the final product. I hope the story is educational to those sleight-of-hand whiz kids, practicing their faro shuffles in their bedrooms, who think they are "better" at magic than David Blaine.

To me this special was a breakthrough event along the lines of Doug Henning's first special, both for its departure from traditional presentations of televised magic and for its emphasis on how effective straightforward close-up magic can be, devoid of the jokes and schtick most of us think must accompany such magic to make it palatable. I won't be surprised if it heavily influences the look and feel of close-up magic for years to come.

As of this June 1997 writing, two lengthy and insightful reviews of David Blaine and his special have appeared. One of these is in Stan Allen's MAGIC for June 1997. Luckily for you nonsubscribers (losers that you are!), Stan has posted the articles by Jon Racherbaumer and himself, along with some great photos of Blaine, on the MAGIC web site. The second piece is by Rudy Coby and is posted in Richard Robinson's Magic Show. This is the first extended piece of prose I've read by Rudy, and he is a most accomplished essayist. Don't miss Rudy's first "Talk About Magic" article for Magic Show. These articles are not going to be there forever, so try to get to them as soon as you can.