Bettrys Jones and Brian Martin in The Art of Illusion. Photo: Robert Day

ALEXIS Michalik’s award-winning play, Le Cercle des illusionnistes, proved a hit in France in 2014 but loses some of its sparkle in Tom Jackson Greaves’ production, translated as The Art of Illusion by Waleed Akhtar.

The ensemble cast give it their all and yet it feels under-rehearsed. The actors occasionally stumble over lines or a piece of stage craft is underwhelming. There’s a little too much earnest arm stretching and mugging with spurts of misdirected energy.

There’s little point in being a firecracker on stage if you don’t set something alight.

Hopefully the performances will settle down during the run because, in the world of magic, less is definitely more. Although meandering, this is a fascinating look at conjuring, the history of illusion, and the early days of cinema.

In 1984, as France play Yugoslavia in the Euros, two people meet in a Parisian Café. December (Brian Martin), a pickpocket, is returning the bag he stole from April (Bettrys Jones) and she invites him for a drink.

They both love magic and set out on an adventure that takes in the theatre of master magician Jean-Eugène Robert-Houdin (Kwaku Mills) and the pioneering films of illusionist Georges Méliès (Norah Lopez Holden).

Martin Hyder plays The Watchmaker. An MC of sorts and self-proclaimed “spirit of entertainers”, he guides the action, links the eras, transforms into other characters and reminds us that “life is a circle… an eternal recommencement”.

It’s sometimes hard to keep up with the shifts in time, but Simon Kenny’s design is well utilised with dates imprinted on clothing and props.

The budding romance between April and December initially feels rather contrived (and a running gag about football goes on for too long) but in the final scene, which adds video games into the mix, they cleverly draw together the remaining threads of the drama.

Until January 28
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