Through a magic show in Allahabad, Nishanth R. and Sreedeep capture the radical transformation of an old form of entertainment.
Magic shows have moved away from the tradition of tricks.
Alongside the holy pilgrimage of Kumbh, where the dust of the river bed is constantly in conversation with the faith of the devotees, the city of Allahabad witnessed an abundance of eye-catching posters of O.P. Sharma (Jr/Sr), who ran three shows a day a month ago.
The imagery of the campaign offers a glimpse of visual spectacles to expect: simulated dinosaurs, gorillas, birds, melodramatic expressions and, of course, lots of women in sparkling tights.
With a team of 200 and equipment that can fill 20 trucks, it indeed has less to do with the tradition of tricks and more of a magical sangam of mass entertainment aesthetics.
Performances and stage styles have undergone radical transformations under the influence of global cultural forces. Some of the older forms of entertainment such as circuses and magic shows have increasingly attempted to incorporate elements of the filmy razzle-dazzle to lure the distracted audience with an ever-reducing attention span.
Magic shows have also moved away from the bigger cities, which are fully under the sway of multiplex chains and higher levels of simulated extravaganza such as Kingdom of Dreams.
Confined to provincial urban corners that rank lower in the hierarchy of hyper-consumption, magic shows continue to find its audience and generate interest and cast its charisma on small towns where the plethora of organised and elite entertainment packages are yet to fully take over.
The quintessential O.P. Sharma posters are pasted all over Allahabad. Sharmas rest in Kanpur in their mansion called ‘Bhoot Bangla’ for a few weeks in February before the show moves to Ambala. The on-your-face gaze is equally intimidating, inviting and impactful.
The show opens with the names of sponsors flying out of magic boxes and the performers warming up to a visual disposition of colours and strange attire. Extreme is usually the norm on this stage.
Bizarre, sparkling and opulent outfits with horns and feathers complement the acts on the stage.
The senior magician has an album and room full of images with political dignitaries and celebrities to add credibility to his public image.
A few initial tricks open the show. Glasses fly, pigeons and rabbits emerge out of empty boxes, flowers transform into ribbons as women frequently change attire and keep supplying props to the lead magicians. The more dramatic tricks come towards the middle and end of the show.
Some expected tricks like cutting the body or suspending it in the air intensify the optical illusion as the audience claps and watches in disbelief.
Frequent time lapses contribute the idea of ‘spectacle’ by incorporating the ‘ancient’ and ‘prehistoric’ to induce awe – as swords pierce without bloodshed and dinosaurs scare cave men.
Nationalist sentiments and a reformative message loom large as flags fly, patriotic songs blare and the intoxicated and morally-condemnable youth vanish behind a Chivas bottle – only to return on stage after being reformed.
Throughout the show, there is a constant pitching of binary opposites. For instance, the magical reappearance of women beneath the boxes suddenly bursting into a dance can be followed by a supposedly soul-purifying devotional upliftment. Such binaries are sequenced rather well to balance out their respective impacts and cater to the demands of a wider audience.
After the show, the senior O.P. Sharma happily obliges his audience with photos.
In his room after three back-to-back shows of two-and-a-half hours each, we find him relaxing and receptive in front of a huge flex that frames him with films stars and politicians.