Feb. 15--Marc Salem lacks the bouffant coif -- and the sex appeal -- of David Copperfield. No matter. The grand illusion is not the 60-something Salem's shtick.
The son of a rabbi and a pharmacist, Salem actually conveys the same loquacious geniality as you get from Ricky Jay. But whereas Jay revels in sourcing his work to history's great cardsharps, hucksters and con artists, Salem cloaks himself in science. He has two doctorates, he tells us (and, point of fact, he is the very rare entertainer who really does). He's neither a cultist nor an occultist, he declares. Just a close and well-trained observer of the human mind -- and its oh-so-many unconscious tells and revelations.
Spend some time at "Mind Over Chicago," Salem's wholly engrossing new weekend show at the Apollo Theater, and you'll probably find yourself asking pretty much the same question for the entire 90-minute running time: Can reading people's minds really reveal that much?
Could you, for example, train yourself to know what random audience members were thinking, so that when you shout out, say, "Hey, Bob Smith," and Bob answers, "Yes, here" you can say, "Right now, you're thinking about that mai tai you had on the beach last week in Honolulu" and be reasonably sure that Bob will shout out, "Yes! I am! I am!"
How does Salem do that? Really read a mind in Row K, even amid a couple of hundred other minds all simultaneously spilling out their thoughts? Hard to buy, you think.
Is this a matter of some careful pre-show Internet research (in his very moralistic pre-show preamble, Salem insists not)? Or a plant (he vociferously insists not)? Or someone standing in the lobby overhearing conversation? No!
We take the man at his word. Still, flimflammery or trained powers of observation? This is the dramatic question at "Mind Over Chicago."
Being a veteran of many of these shows -- and a lifelong fan of the mentalist-illusionist artistic axis -- I have a few theories on the various stunts that Salem pulls off in the show, and I'd say that what Salem dispenses actually is a very shrewdly shaken-and-stirred mixture of the two, with a preponderance of the former, sure, although a good shtick is an essential part of both.
It's no good being a trained observer if you cannot communicate the results of your training. The most trained observers of human behavior need a repartee. And Salem has a line of business, all right.
One of Salem's tricks -- to catch audience members in a lie -- clearly needs no sleight of hand. On Saturday night, those guys all could be read like an open book. And I'll stipulate that if a man with Salem's level of experience and expertise wants you to pick an envelope that contains a coupon for his own book, as distinct, say, from one containing a nice $100 bill, then he can ensure with ease that it is the coupon you will pick.
But those hardly are the most bewildering things in the show. Take, for example, the coup de grace, wherein Salem temporarily blinds himself in an elaborate ritual that would appear to ensure not a speck of sight left in his peepers, only then to pick out a whole series of random items that he could not possibly be able to see. Stuff at weird angles, too. Stuff for which he could not have planned.
So what was it? Mirrors? A peephole? A microphone in the ear? A dude in the booth?
You'll have to make up your own mind. We take the man at his word.
Know, though, that you are in the company here of a master illusionist (Salem has done this show often in New York, on and off Broadway). He is a self-contained show, being as he is the show. All he needs are a few books, a carpet, a notepad and a public. All that said, the steeply raked Apollo Theater (long the home of the now-closed "Million Dollar Quartet") is an ideal venue for this work -- just big enough to get the critical mass for a fun time, and plenty small enough that you feel like you are right on top of the art. And that you still cannot discern the secrets.
Know further that you are likely to be called upon in the show -- Salem needs a huge inventory of volunteers -- but that he makes it a point of honor not to embarrass his helpers.
He keeps his word. No one is made to look stupid. No one is hypnotized nor called upon to do that which they would not otherwise do. Time after time in this show, the mentalism is harnessed for positive vibes -- family, relationships, birthdays. A night out.
And one last thing. Salem's show is a very smart show and, albeit aimed at adults, perfectly suitable for older kids. He is a formidable intellectual, which does not mean he is not also full of stuff and nonsense. But a lot of en vogue illusionist entertainment of the Criss Angel-Las Vegas gestalt feels tacky and middlebrow.
Not this show. Like a quality newspaper, Salem is the real deal. Except when he is not. Salem, I mean, not your paper.
Chris Jones is a Chicago Tribune critic.
cjones5@tribpub.com
Review: 'Marc Salem's Mind Over Chicago' -- 3.5 stars
When: Open run
Where: Apollo Theater, 2540 N. Lincoln Ave.
Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes
Tickets: $50 at 773-935-6100 or apollochicago.com
