It is not often at the Fringe when you are welcomed into the auditorium by the performer himself with the house lights fully up. This set the welcoming tone for an hour of comical gaffes and elementary 'magic' (and I use the term in its loosest sense) that never mystified but constantly entertained.
Ian Kendall has been performing at the Fringe for over two decades now - and it is safe to say his sleight of hand hasn't improved a jot. I sat on the end of the front row and saw every ball, card and dice he shiftily tucked away. It must be tough for a seasoned card magician to stay fresh and break into a modern world of magic characterised by the likes of Derren Brown and Dynamo. But I enjoyed Kendall's performance more: it was honest, simple; genuine. His charming delivery exhibited to two rows and still he had the crowd invested in him and his magic. Even though he got two card predictions wrong in a row - I didn't care.
I was more interested in Kendall’s back story, as he had been diagnosed with Aspergers as a child and developed an obsession with magic. This was all too readily brushed aside to continue with corny card tricks. This aspect was where the show fell down for me, as Kendall often began stories about his past and his relationship with stage magic, but never continued. I was so invested in him as a person that an honest story or two could have added so much more than cheap laughs and face value magic could.
Relating to the football expression 'he does it for the love of the game', Ian Kendall is certainly the theatrical equivalent. Battling through a performance where dropped cards and coins were only the start of a long list of problems which blighted the show, but never dampened his spirit and jokes. He deserves a sell out show, but unfortunately with this material that seems a long way off.
