Wellington’s Opera House foyer is packed with Illusion enthusiasts for Anthony Street’s show, on tour from Australia. Each group of patrons is handed a deck of cards, sealed with a rubber band, as they enter the auditorium. Not to be opened until further notice.

Loud rock music pounds the waiting audience. ‘I’m Still Standing’ heralds the opening of the show. Rays from the moving heads of LED Bee Eye lights sweep the now dark auditorium as the two dancers we’ll come to know as Rachel and Imogen activate the stage. A tall clear plastic cylinder standing upstage centre on a rostrum fills with hazer smoke – and boom: it opens and out steps Anthony.

He’s not a big-noter, he’s clearly here for fun. His manner is casual and friendly as he canvasses us to see who’s a believer and who’s a sceptic. Telling the story of how he got interested in ‘magic’ allows Anthony to treat us to a classic trick that still boggles our minds: the three different lengths of rope that become the same length, then one long rope, then a loop …

Later he’ll recreate a David Copperfield illusion he saw as a boy. It’s an upgrade from the old saw-a-woman-in-half, or put her in a box then poke swords through it at all angles trick. Here, after she has climbed inside the long box, it is collapsed to a cube that is then impaled by three swords.

A beach ball is bounced about by way of picking people to suggest a Sport, a Destination and a Famous Hollywood Actor – we get Netball, Sydney, Ryan Reynolds – and when a small box that’s been hanging from the flies in plain view from the start is lowered, the same names are revealed.

Celebrities are also named on a stack of cards for Anthony’s ‘mind-reading’ illusion. A woman picks one, keeps it secret and – maintaining the requested poker-face – only thinks the answers to the questions he asks while he snips at a piece of folded card with scissors, bit by bit. The cleverness of the stencil of Elvis Presley that he reveals is as impressive as his accurate ‘guess’.

An 8-year-old girl called Willow volunteers to help Anthony drape a cloth over a small table then levitate it. In the second half, 9-year-old Basil will prove to be full of coins that drop from various parts of his anatomy into a bucket.  

Meanwhile variations on ‘pick a card’ have peppered the evening, mostly involving volunteers from the audience. A cameraman feeds live shots to the screen that drops in from time to time, to ensure we get a close-up view. And the first half ends with the trick we all get to do with the deck of cards we picked up at the door. I won’t detail it – you have to be there, and it’s a doozie.

Having raised my hand as a sceptic, at the start, I’m happy to have been bamboozled so far but in the second half I reckon I know how two illusions are created. It’s part of the fun to see others mystified while feeling smug.

The wow-factor returns when Anthony borrows three rings from three different women – projected in close-up for all to see – encloses them in his fist then draws them out linked together. I’ve seen that done with a conjurer’s own much larger ‘magic rings’ but not with costume jewellery plucked from the audience. Of course he de-links and returns them. 

A large fabric screen hanging from two sticks is used to great effect for appearances, disappearances and transformations. Even if you think you know how it’s done while admiring the dexterity involved, I defy you to explain how the motor bike materialises.

For the finale, two ‘Dads’ are volunteered for the classic guillotine illusion. After the build-up where carrots are sacrificed to prove the blade is sharp, the enthusiasm of the crowd in choosing which Dad will kneel to put his head in harm’s way and the glee with which we watch him do it attests – I hope – to the trust we have in the safety of the illusion

We are treated to an encore involving a cage, flames, a dancer, long blades … The Anthony pays generous tribute to his team. The mood is elated as we leave. Even those I take to be illusionists themselves, who’ve come in a group, are animated in mutual respect.   

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer