Anything is Possible

by Hazel Flynn

  Aside from the scale issue, I was uncomfortable about the constraints this style of show imposed. It wouldn’t have any of the theatricality and movement that stood me apart. By now close-up magic and mentalism were everywhere; sometimes it seemed like every second American magician had a cable TV show in which they took to the streets guerrilla-style. My mix of illusions, conjuring and escapes had put me way ahead of the pack for a long time but now I was stuck firmly in the middle — not where I wanted to be, and not a place from which I was likely to catch my big break. But you do what you’ve gotta do. If I didn’t want to give up on my dream, throw it all in and get a ‘proper’ job, the only option was to knuckle down and get ready for the Distortions tour, so that’s what I did.

  Then AGT called again. A mid-level producer who had Adam’s number called him. Adam explained our concerns about our lack of control over the way the act or I might be portrayed and about whether I would even make it through the auditions — not because of the quality of my performance but because talent shows are built on high attrition in the early stages. We didn’t see any compelling reason to change the answer we’d given twice before. But then the show’s main producer, Greg Burness, called me.

  We had a great conversation and I felt that I could be very open with him. I told him that while all the judges might be fine in their own fields, none of them knew about magic, so how could I be sure of a fair assessment? I said to him that it seemed out of whack that a few months earlier a major production company had approached me about starring in my own show and now I was supposed to do a competition act. I also told him that I’d heard plenty of talent-show nightmare stories, not from AGT but other shows where footage had been edited and manipulated to make people look foolish or in some other way bad. Greg made a compelling argument for his show being different and, importantly, he didn’t try to pressure me. He asked me to think about it and said he would talk to me again soon.

  When we spoke next I asked him point blank if he could give me a guarantee the footage would not be manipulated to make me look like something I wasn’t. If I didn’t do a good enough job and got eliminated so be it, but I didn’t want to give a great performance and have it played for cheap laughs by the time it made it to TV. Greg gave me his word that would not happen. It was a big leap of faith — I didn’t know him at all apart from these conversations — but I believed him. I told him that I was seriously considering it in a way I never had before and promised to get back to him.

  I still had some very strong concerns. One of them was what I could do in the time allotted to each act, a mere ninety seconds! I spoke to Chris O’Mara who echoed this, saying that it might be a great showcase for me, but only if I could come up with a routine within the time-frame that would blow people’s socks off; if it was anything less than that he felt I’d be better not going on the show at all. We also had a lot of discussions within the family. Mum and Dad were ambivalent, weighing up the pros and cons. John was all for it. His exact words were, ‘What have you got to lose?’ But Adam had an answer for that: ‘Everything he’s built up so far. What chance do you think we’ve got of booking the act into theatres or even shopping centres if he gets knocked out at the audition stage?’ I thought he had a good point, but I also thought I was at the point in my career when something drastic needed to change and this could be the catalyst. It was hard knowing which way to jump.

  Pierre Baroni

  Around this time I visited my cousin Andrew. He asked me how my career was going and I told him how disheartening it got waiting for a breakthrough that never seemed to come. He said that the people who made it were the ones who didn’t give up even when it felt unbearable to hang in there. So many people tried for years and years and quit just before the point at which, if they’d kept pushing, all their hard work would have paid off. His words made a very big impression on me. The combination of the inspiration I got from Andrew and John’s practical approach got me over the line — I decided I should take the opportunity in front of me.

  Together John and I combed YouTube for clips from the American, British and Australian versions of the show. We took notes on what we saw, analysing what worked and what didn’t. The research was exhausting but encouraging: if it really was a level playing field as Greg had promised, I had the skills to wow the judges and the audience if I could come up with the right audition act. Only then would I commit. I went back over all my material from Evolution and Threshold making a short-list of everything that was high-impact and snappy.

  I decided that the way to do it would be with two assistants — Adam and, if she was available, Bianca. I could start by making Bianca appear inside a metre-high cage on a table-top, then I would do my ‘Compression’ illusion. In it, Adam stepped inside a tall box and all but his head and feet were screened from view. I then wound the top down and the bottom up until it appeared that he had been squished to just thirty centimetres high. I would then restore him and finish up by making Bianca disappear. It could all be done within a minute and a half and include lots of high energy dance, a funky soundtrack and cool street-sexy costumes. Yep, that would work.

  But then what? If I got through the audition there were potentially two more stages, the semi-final and the final, and I’d need a new act each time. I figured the way I could make the most impact was by switching things around: doing an illusion magic act, followed by an escape, followed by another illusion act. The escape had to be Water Trap. I could do it in the time and it would go over brilliantly. But I knew with absolute certainty that I couldn’t use my existing steel drum. The camera needed to be able to see what was going on during the escape and so did the studio audience to eliminate any possibility of anyone wondering if I had a hidden air supply in there. Dad and John drew up plans for a Perspex prism and sent off for $4000 worth of materials. Only then did I call Greg back and say, ‘Yes, I’ll do Australia’s Got Talent.’

  Wilson Du

  MENTALISM

  Mentalism is a branch of magic that makes it seem as if a magician can read minds or make predictions. Classic examples are identifying someone’s name or their choice of card before it has been revealed. It relies on the performer understanding human behaviour and psychology and paying very close attention to body language — reading people’s ‘tells’. It also requires the magician to apply some basic conjuring skills such as ‘forcing’ (see Chapter 7), and to use an occasional discreet piece of apparatus. But what mentalism relies on most of all is a convincing presentation. The majority of routines are quite simple if you break them down; the artistry is in making the audience feel they have witnessed something that they cannot explain.

  When I was ringing around trying to get theatre managers to book Distortions, I used a classic mentalism manipulation technique. The desired outcome is for the other person to agree to whatever it is you’re proposing or asking. The technique is to begin by asking them three questions to which you know the answer is yes. Having said yes three times they are subconsciously more likely to say it again when you ask them your real question. It’s not foolproof by any means but it works often enough to be worth doing.

  If it’s done well mentalism is incredibly powerful and wonderfully entertaining. The trouble comes when these techniques are used by unscrupulous people to claim clairvoyant powers. These ‘psychics’ prey on people by making them believe they can communicate with dead loved ones. Debunking their methods was the specialty of James Randi. At twelve he had been inspired by Harry Blackstone to become a magician, escapologist and stunt artist.

  He billed himself as ‘The Amazing Randi’ and in 1974 (when David Blaine was just a year old) set a Guinness World Record for lying on a bed of ice for just over forty-three minutes. One of Randi’s most famous scalps belonged to Uri Geller, the Israeli illusionist and self-proclaimed ‘psychic’ who became internationally famous in the 1970s for an act that included making spoons bend and making watches speed up by using, he claimed, the power of his mind. Randi was relentless i
n his public exposés of Geller’s methods and wrote a book about them. Geller launched three separate lawsuits against him and his publisher but he lost each time.

  By all means enjoy being bamboozled by mentalism when it’s done for entertainment — if you come to my shows I’ll take great delight in amazing you with ‘mind-reading’ tricks — just don’t fall for the fakers.

  State Library of Victoria ALMA93.2/55

  There was so much at stake when I agreed to put my fate in the hands of the AGT JUDGES. I’D SPENT A DECADE WORKING SO HARD AND TRYING EVERYTHING I COULD TO BREAK THOUGH. HOW COULD I ASK MY FAMILY, WHO HAD ALREADY GIVEN ME SO MUCH, TO KEEP HELPING ME PURSUE A CAREER IN MAGIC IF THIS GAMBLE DIDN’T WORK? I BELIEVED IN MYSELF AND I BELIEVED IN MAGIC. WOULD THAT BE ENOUGH? I WAS LEAPING OFF A CLIFF AND I WOULD EITHER FLY HIGH OR CRASH TO THE GROUND. WHICHEVER WAY IT WENT, IT WAS TIME TO TAKE THAT CHANCE.

  I had so much work to do I needed every minute of the four-month gap between agreeing to go on the show and the scheduled date of my first performance. Because the producers had come to me I skipped the mass auditions which took place from October to December 2010 right around the country. In fact the production team didn’t even ask to see my act. I described it to them, they said it sounded great and that was that.

  From the thousands of hopefuls who fronted up to the mass try-outs, two hundred were chosen for the next stage of the competition, the second-round auditions. Starting in mid-February and spread across four locations, these would take place in front of both a live audience and the AGT judges: singer-songwriters Brian McFadden and Dannii Minogue, and controversial media personality Kyle Sandilands. The Melbourne leg would be at the Regent Theatre, a place that had been very special to me ever since I’d sat in the front row in awe of David Copperfield all those years earlier.

  Bianca, who’d previously worked as my assistant, and Ash, who had been on the Threshold tour, joined me to start rehearsing, and Adam was also able to come and put in some extra time with us. In one sense nothing had changed; I was still doing school shows and preparing for the no-frills Distortions tour, having to fit the AGT preparations around those commitments. But at the same time there was a definite feeling in the air that this could be the opening we’d waited so long for. Or was I just kidding myself?

  When I first started planning what I would do on the show I didn’t give a second thought to my masks. For the past fourteen years I’d worn them for every show, only revealing my face towards the end. The masks were intrinsic to my performing identity. Television, however, was a whole new ball-game. I’d get such a short time to make a connection with the audience that I couldn’t afford to cover up. The thought of walking onstage without a mask was incredibly daunting and I’d be doing it on national television. It made me feel very, very unprotected and vulnerable but I realised I was going to have to find a way through, because it just had to be done.

  By the time the audition date rolled around the act was running like clockwork. I was nervous and excited but ready. John, Adam, Ash and I loaded up the truck and arrived at the theatre’s loading dock at 8 a.m., as requested, and Bianca met us there. Meanwhile my parents and Bianca’s husband were among the audience assembling inside the Regent. Along with the other acts, we were sent to wait at the nearby Athenaeum Theatre until called.

  There were cameras all over the place, with production crew doing on-the-spot interviews and capturing ‘fly on the wall’ footage. We’d been instructed to bring food and water and for a while we sat there quite happily, but I grew increasingly impatient as hour after hour ticked by. If my little crew and I could do ‘bump-ins’ efficiently, getting our equipment in and set up to a strict schedule, why couldn’t a big operation like this operate the same way? Why call us for 8 a.m. if we weren’t going to be needed before the evening? Clearly other people were feeling the same and the tension really started to get to some of the other acts.

  Eventually, as 5 p.m. came and went, my patience ran out, although I knew better than to let my annoyance be captured on camera. Even at the time I suspected a big part of the delay was to ratchet up the contestants’ nerves, creating more drama to give the audition show extra oomph. I was just about ready to walk out when an assistant finally appeared to get us. What happened next confirmed my feeling that the wait was being closely stage-managed. After more than nine hours of sitting there doing nothing we were now told that we were in an urgent race to get to the stage. We were bustled and hurried and almost pushed along through narrow backstage passages amid a feeling of near chaos. It was hard enough for me to keep some kind of a grip on things, despite all my experience. I couldn’t even imagine what it must have been like for young performers who hadn’t done much beyond their own lounge rooms. We were positioned in the wings while the previous act finished up. She was a singer and pianist who did an amazing job with ‘Somewhere over the Rainbow’ and the judges and audience loved her. She was a tough act to follow.

  As part of the preparation leading up to the show, each contestant had to fill out a questionnaire designed to help the producers and eventually the audience get to know us. There were a couple of dozen questions and I’m sure many people handed in four or five sheets of paper. I answered every question in such detail my completed form ran to thirty pages, including an explanation of why the craft of stage magic deserved more respect and exposure. Before the performance proper began each act had to walk out and talk to the judges, who might or might not ask things based on the questionnaire.

  I was scared witless walking out onto that stage, unmasked and feeling utterly naked. This was it, all or nothing. I took a deep breath and told myself that I had to get it together. Standing before the judges, microphone in hand, I gave my name and said I was a magician from Melbourne, then was asked ‘Why are you here?’ I didn’t think about my nerves or the TV cameras or anything other than the dream I had been carrying all these years. I spoke passionately, from the heart, telling the judges that magic is beautiful but all too often people looked upon it as a cheap novelty. I challenged anyone present to name a famous Australian magician. Someone in the crowd yelled out, ‘Criss Angel.’ I asked them to repeat it and again the voice called, ‘Criss Angel!’ It was the perfect demonstration of my point. I said, full of emotion, ‘Criss Angel is American. A wonderful magician, but American. We have famous Australian actors, we have famous Australian singers, yet we don’t have one single famous Australian magician. Why am I here? To change that!’

  None of that made it to air (hundreds of hours are filmed for a show like this and most of it goes unused). Instead what the audience at home got after the initial introduction was Kyle Sandilands saying in his trademark almost-bored-already manner, ‘Let’s see what you’ve got then, buddy. Good luck, here we go.’

  Cosentino family collection

  The audience in the theatre started whooping and cheering a few seconds in as the music and my dancing lifted the energy in the room. From the corner of my eye I could see people’s mouths literally falling open as Bianca appeared from nowhere and Adam was squashed to the size of a head. By now the judges were giving each other ‘Did you see that?’ looks and when Bianca disappeared at the end of the ninety-second routine the audience rose to their feet.

  I was already feeling great about how it had gone and the judges’ comments lifted me even higher. Kyle Sandilands joked about how being able to make girls disappear might come in useful, then said, ‘That was cool. You know what I liked about it? We’ve seen some illusions before but I’ve never seen anyone present it like you did. It was very unique and I think you could go a very long way, mate. I think you’re the real deal.’ Brian McFadden was next. He said, ‘I love the modern twist on it. There’s nothing worse than when a hokey old magician comes out with their fluorescent jackets and all that stuff. You’re an impressive guy.’ It was all going brilliantly and then Dannii Minogue gave me a compliment so perfect it was like something my thirteen-year-old self had dreamt up: ‘Cosentino,’ she said,
genuinely impressed, ‘that is like Michael Jackson makes magic.’ I was so elated I didn’t have the words to express it. When we got offstage Adam’s face looked the way I felt, a mixture of joy and relief. The rest of the family were just as thrilled and happy.

  But we couldn’t get complacent. Of the two hundred acts that performed at the filmed auditions, only forty-eight would be chosen to make it through to the next stage, the ‘semi-finals’, and TV can be ruthless — even people who’d had three ticks from the judges and rapturous applause weren’t guaranteed a spot, which is what happened to the ‘Somewhere over the Rainbow’ singer. So even though I knew I’d delivered a great act and the response was everything I could have hoped for, I kept quiet about it while I waited a month or so for the announcement of who would go through.

  It had been great having Bianca back in the act but she was pregnant and had to step down so I needed to find another assistant. Jilda knew of a talented dancer called Priscilla Stavrou and I arranged to meet her at a café in town. The audition show had aired by this point and Priscilla had seen it, so even though she’d never been in anything resembling a magic act she understood the kind of skills I needed. I explained that if I was chosen to go through, my next performance would be the solo Water Trap escape. However, if my run continued, the following piece I would do, two months from now, would be another illusion — and that’s what I needed a new assistant for. I described the piece I had in mind, which I’d dubbed ‘Electric Chair’, and she got it straight away.