The Magician’s Table is billed as a wake for fictional magician Dieter Roterburg. Candlelight flickers across velvet drapes, a lone accordion sighs in the corner and ‘mourners’ clutch cocktails while swapping stories about a man who never existed. The production is not a play in the traditional sense but an immersive close-up magic event. There is no fourth wall to break because it was never built: performers chat, swap jokes and launch sleights of hand right in front of you, making every guest an active participant in what amounts to a 90 minute carnival of astonishment.
The evening unfolds in three loose chapters. First comes a speakeasy-style bar (selling expensive cocktails, over and above the quite steep ticket price) where wandering magicians use card revelations and coin vanishes as ice-breakers while waiters tempt you into buying drinks. Next, ushers guide everyone upstairs to Dieter’s private theatre, an art-deco parlour of semicircular tables and sepia spotlights that feels lifted from The Night Circus (note: when they’re busy, they fit ten people round tables seemingly designed for eight. It’s tight.). A death mask of the late conjuror presides over the space, hinting that we are inside a carefully scripted memorial show. Finally, the tribute begins: an ensemble of magicians circulate between tables while widow-turned-emcee Calliope introduces set-piece illusions on a small central stage, each one edging the audience closer to the legendary ‘final trick’ her husband never completed.
The magic is intimate and tactile. A ring disappears from your clenched fist and reappears on the performer’s pocket-watch chain. A signed card ends up sealed inside a lemon. One performer hammers a nail up his nose, then segues into delicate coin artistry as if to reset your pulse. Variety also keeps the temperature up: slick cardsharps, mind-readers and sideshow specialists tag-team through the room. Between each set, the waiters encourage you to buy yet more cocktails. The effect is a living anthology of modern magic compressed into a cocktail bar setting.
Calliope provides the evening’s narrative spine. Draped in black lace, she mourns and celebrates her late fictional spouse. Live accordion underscores tricks with Parisian melancholy, then retreats to let silence ratchet up tension when a mentalist asks a volunteer to think of a lost loved one. Harriet Darling and Elise Edge’s set dresses the warehouse in carnival bric-a-brac: steamer trunks stamped with exotic ports, antique posters touting Dieter’s Circus of Curiosities, a carved cabinet that looms throughout the night until its secret role in the finale becomes clear.
Practicalities are worth noting. The venue is a multi-level warehouse with stairs and moody lighting, so audience members with mobility or vision concerns should contact staff in advance. Seating is banquet style; you will share a table with strangers, though the ice breaks quickly once the first card changes colour. The show recommends over-18s, mainly due to its cocktail vibe and a couple of sideshow-style stunts, yet otherwise suits a wide adult demographic.
The show’s greatest trick is not any single illusion but the way it summons collective wonder in a disenchanted age. It is undoubtedly expensive for what it is – especially if you’re going to succumb to the many invitations to buy yet more cocktails. But it is a fun evening.