Penn dominates the stage, pointing, spouting like an evangelist, encouraging
us to see the big ideas behind the wizardry, plucking at his double bass,
doing dangerous looking things with a nailgun, cracking jokes at the expense
of Homeland Security or dispensing a running commentary on Teller’s sleights
of hand. He also has a habit of giving away the tricks – before Teller’s red
ball act, he declares “this is done with a thread!” – something he describes
as “a kind of peace offering” to the audience but which some of the other
magicians in Vegas see as a professional blasphemy.
He couldn’t care less what they think. “I have always hated magic,” he says.
“I have always hated the basic undercurrent of magic which Jerry Seinfeld
put best when he said: 'All magic is “Here’s a quarter, now it’s gone.
You’re a jerk. Now it’s back. You’re an idiot. Show’s over”.’ I never wanted
to grow up to be a magician. It was never my goal.” He would rather have
been a rock star, he says, but the business seemed already saturated with
extraordinarily talented people. “So my thinking was, and I will say this
outright, music is full of people I absolutely love. I don’t have a chance.
They are all better than me. Magic has, ooh, nobody in it that I like.” He
rocks back in his chair, cackling. “This is the field for me!”