Pete Firman’s tenth Edinburgh Fringe show has a short prelude: a montage of the posters of his previous nine shows. This is a nice touch, to remind you that you are in the hands of probably the most prolific comedy-magician there is at the moment. He muses that before his brand of combined comedy-magic, magicians were unusually rare and hidden, and proudly gets straight to the point. From the get go, we have cheesey music accompanying the magical appearances of flowers and bowling balls; seemingly from nowhere. There’s no one arc to dominate this year’s show, but
I want to go back, not even to figure out how he did any of it, but to be dazzled again.
With you already on the edge of your seat, Firman wows you with trick after trick, almost never slowing the pace of the show. He can make £30 transfer from one audience member to another, he can deconstruct astrology, he can achieve a truly showstopping piece of baking.
Firman’s speed and jokes keep you so focused that the atmosphere is even more electric whenever he achieves a slight-of-hand that you’re unable to understand. You struggle to decide; ‘should I focus on trying to figure out what I just saw, or shall I keep focusing and try and predict the method of the next trick?!’ Then you realise that he’s making you laugh so much that it simply does not matter.
There are some real highlights as TriX progresses. His invention, an Orange Juice Carton with a seeming infinite amount of interchangeable drinks, and his £20 note trick in particular leave his audience dazzled. I fear I’ve already given away so much, but everything Firman does feels so natural, as if he’s just brought up his tricks in the middle of a conversation, that you forget that these are cleverly constructed performances in a show.
A suitable finale rounds off the charming hour. I really must not give away any more, so I shall just say keep an eye on his box. I want to go back, not even to figure out how he did any of it, but to be dazzled again.