Q: Who does Uri Geller say he is?

Does he say he’s a magician? A mentalist? A psychic?

I think it’s pretty universal in our corner of the world to accept that Geller uses the same techniques and methods magicians and mentalists do. And for many, many years some people, for various reasons, have done their best to expose Geller as a fraud — as someone who is no different than any great magician.

Guess what? For the most part, people don’t care. But the bigger question is, why? Why is Uri Geller still an entertainment force majeure? Why don’t “normal people” refer to Geller as a magician or a mentalist? And who does Geller claim he is?

Many magicians tend to be hypercritical (i.e. myopic) about the success of another performer in the same way they are myopic about their own act. It’s the “missing the forest for the trees” syndrome, and it’s rarely an attractive thing to watch.

I still see the same critical remarks about David Blaine years later: “he’s not a great magician,” “there are plenty of magicians who are better than Blaine,” “slum magic blah bah blah,” etc. The issue I have with that is these people are not considering the package — the entire act. Here’s a news flash for you: the act got on television a number of times, not Gene Gordon’s “biting a quarter” trick.

Criss Angel is not an overnight success. The Penn & Teller act was not overnight success. David Copperfield was not an overnight success. In all three examples, the end result — success — is made up of tons of intrinsic parts, and years of hard work. To dismiss any of these people because “X is a better magician” or “it’s who you know” is so absurd I have a hard time even addressing the comments.

There was a thread of conversation recently on The Magic Cafe about Criss Angel’s radio interview with Penn Jillette. In part, speaking of contemporary magic and magicians, Angel stated:

“…most magicians present it in a really hokey, cheesey way…”

He went on to say:

“…these other guys are like sitting there doing the same old nonsense that’s been done for like, you know, it’s a zillion years, and it doesn’t really present itself in a fresh way.”

It’s so much easier to do Don Alan’s “Invisible Deck” routine verbatim, rather than study the Ultra Mental deck and what it actually does and build a great, original routine that uses it in a new way. Is there anything wrong with doing the Alan routine word for word from the instruction sheet? Although my knee-jerk reaction is to recoil from the very idea, I have to admit that, in the long run, I’d say less damage is done to magic by performing the trick with a proven, sure-fire routine than some off-the-wall, bizarre (in a bad way) presentation that gives the 21 Card Trick competition. “All magicians do the same tricks” is the lesser of two evils. Whit Haydn has stated often that learning a trick word for word is a great way to learn magic; get comfortable with what works, then put your personality and presentation into it.

Similarly, it’s much easier to say, “Hold out your hand. No the clean one. Oh, that was the clean one.” and get the easy laugh, rather than spend a few days coming up with a great, original line. Great comedy is not easy, even for the guys who make it look easy. Nicking someone’s funny line is not a good thing on so many levels. I have asked (and received) from their originators permission to use two really funny lines. (From Eric DeCamps and Rich Marotta for those keeping score.) But I never felt completely comfortable using them. (Call it guilt, roots of a long ago abandoned Catholic upbringing. Clearly it’s the gift that keeps on giving.)

When we consider the relative success of Angel and Blaine and Copperfield and P&T, the world of magic isn’t that much different than the world at large: those who achieve great things typically expend massive amounts of effort, and over an extended period of time. But that effort is not the hardest part of success in general; showing up is. Becoming successful and/or famous is not rocket science. Anyone can do it, but not many people will do it.

One aspect of this that seems to go without mention is the very issue of “being famous.” Why do people seek that level of attention? It seems to me to be rooted in one or both of two things: a desire for attention, and wealth.

It always seemed to me that the phrase “rich and famous” is actually backwards. Fame usually precedes rich. Is Criss Angel working harder now than he ever did? I’m not so sure about that. I believe he’s working a lot smarter, and he’s surrounded by a lot more people who are in a position to help him short circuit a lot of wasted effort. In my opinion that’s pretty wise. And I don’t know if anyone would argue that his fame over the last year has affected his bank account.

Not everyone seeks fame, and fortune doesn’t have to mean millions of dollars in the bank. But you get neither fame nor fortune without defining what those words mean, mapping out a course, then working towards it. Or being born a Hilton. (The other “secret” is noticing the results you get while working towards a goal. If something you’re doing isn’t working, you might try doing something different. Einstein was right; the defintion of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result. Sort of like criticizing Blaine and Angel. )

Woody Allen is variously quoted as saying, “90% of life is just showing up.” Most people want the benefits of success, but aren’t willing to take the first step — literally, take a first step — towards success.

Three frogs were sitting on a log one day. The middle frog suddenly said, “You know what guys? I feel like going for a swim!”

Q: How many frogs were left on the log?
A: Three. The middle frog only said he felt like going for a swim, he didn’t actually dive in.

You can think and ponder and consider and say you are going to do X until the cows come home. But until you take that first step and actually do something, you’re just another frog on a log. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.

I suppose the world of magic is not much different than any other art form; its practitioners eat their young at every turn. You can call it jealousy, or misguided attention, or armchair quarterbacking, or whatever you like. But the subject of such attention rarely directly addresses those things, and even more rarely takes part in the discussion at all. Why do you suppose that is?

Oh, yes. One more thing:

A: Uri Geller