Premise Of The Presentation

The Whole Thing is a packet trick originally created by Larry West in 1978. Most people today know it as a Daryl trick, as he purchased the rights and turned it into a classic for stand-up magic with jumbo cards. It is still in stock at magic shops around the world. You can also get an authorized edition from Tony Griffith in England with his bonus ending.

I’ve been playing with it for about a year and slowly deviating from the standard presentation towards something more personally unique. Just recently I hit upon the idea for a premise which has suddenly made everything about it more fun for me. I can confidently say I’ve found my footing, and I’m no longer imitating anyone else.

What makes a Premise?

A premise is what the presentation is about, conceptually speaking. More directly I think the premise answers the question; “why am I showing this to you?”

A hot trick these days is some variation of Any Card At Any Number. The premise, the reason people include it in their act, is most often about it being “the perfect card trick.” It cuts out all the nonsense, all the misdirection, and delivers a sterile demonstration of something impossible very unlikely. If you were to embrace this premise then you’d emphasize a clean fingertip handling of the cards. No suspicious movements. The spectator deals. If you’re calling it the perfect card trick, then you make every action about that, reinforcing the premise.

If you haven’t settled on a clear premise, then you really don’t know what you should be emphasizing. Like a story that rambles, with unrelated tangents, you lose the point and the message is diluted. You can do magic without a premise, same as a road trip with no destination, just for the fun of it, but it really becomes more engaging when you stay focused on the premise.

A Wholesale Account

I’ll share a video of my new Whole Thing premise in action. I hope this serves as inspiration in a general sense. It’s not just something for you to take and copy.

The first routine, with the pencil, benefits from a premise as well. “Why am I showing this to you?” Because I want to teach a simple magic trick you can do. The real magic happens along the way, but my presentation stays true to the concept of teaching. I disregard everything else.

Then we get into The Whole Thing, which is framed as a merchandise pitch. That’s it. That’s the premise. But with that simple concept in place I suddenly have a justified reason to be showing off these unusual cards. With this premise added I was pleasantly surprised to hear an increase in laughter. Originally it was just some clever wordplay (which is what drew me to the routine in the first place) but now it’s got an extra layer of me trying to sell the dumbest merchandise they’ve ever seen.

A Jumping Off Point

Finding a premise which feels right is not the end, but the beginning of a creative growth spurt. Once you understand what your routine is about you can tweak it to better fit into the new shape. This is a new premise for me, and as I embrace it fully I’ll be coming up with more merchandising jokes.

The question I ask myself is “if this, then what else?” If it’s about holes, what else can be a hole? There’s a perfect lead-in to Jerry Andrus’ Zone Zero, producing objects from a hole in a board. I considered a Ring & Rope routine, where the ring is just a “deluxe silver-plated hole.”

If this is about merchandise sales, what else? The paper hole cutting stunt (which you may recall from a Billy McComb video in my Emergency Back-Up Routines article) is not a trick which can stand on its own, but it finds a home within this premise. I could expand on that with Paul Harris’ Immaculate Connection (linking playing cards) to display three paper holes “sold as a set.”

I find once the premise is nailed down, the creativity starts flowing naturally. You’ve drawn a box around the idea and it becomes much easier to dig in that area than try to stumble upon random inventions in the wilderness.

My Character Has a Premise

There can be multiple layers of premises going on in your show. This merchandising premise won’t work for everyone because it comes out of the overarching premise of my character; I’m a bit of an idiot, trying to put on a magic show the way I think it’s supposed to be done.

My show doesn’t have any dramatic pretense about it. There’s no mystical ambiance, no imaginative storyline. I’m open and transparent with my audience; they’re here to watch a magic show, so let’s do a magic show. Many of the things I do come from this premise that I’m basically trying to check off all the boxes. Teach a trick you can do at home, check. Mention the merchandise, check.

Right after this routine I went into a card trick, which I often preface with the statement “this is a magic show, so I’m obligated to do at least one card trick.” The premise becomes; if I have to do a card trick, might as well make the most exciting card trick possible.

The benefit of setting a premise is that you know what to add, and what to remove. Knowing the premise of my character informs the type of magic that will work for me, and the type that will not. (see Comedy Not Included) Some magicians might be able to pull off that pencil trick as a genuine demonstration of psychic phenomena, but I’d be laughed at no matter what I try.

The Answer Becomes Clear

I’ve found a good premise is uncovered, not invented. Because the best premises are a natural, organic fit for you, in context, and they cannot be forced. Just as I started performing the Whole Thing as-is, off-the-shelf, I suggest you begin with action rather than deliberation. Just start performing, and your natural character will seep into all that you do.

Let it stew, and once the natural flavour emerges you’ll know exactly what spices will best compliment your magical dish.