Jack McGee
The phrase “unluckiest magician” is not a self-roast. It’s not, as I originally thought, having only read the title, the framing for a comedy-magic-act where the performer constantly fails at their tricks. Instead, it’s a pretty fair summation of Willburry’s experiences - specifically regarding his medical history. Willburry has had an unbelievably bad go of it. From removed intestines, to literal screws loose in his body, to kebab-induced emergencies, all culminating in complex regional pain syndrome, his story has to be heard to be believed.
These personal anecdotes are shared with a comedic bent, in between magic tricks. The two frequently inform each other - it was during Willburry’s extended stays in hospital that he first taught himself magic. Willburry makes it clear that magic and performing in general, has been an important release from pain. His mantra is simple, in response to horrible things you have three options: you can laugh, you can cry, or you can die. Crying is a necessity sometimes, but “doesn’t make for a very good show.” Dying isn’t an option, so you’ve got to find a way to laugh through it. This mantra also serves as the name for Willburry’s podcast “Laugh, Cry, or Die '' which he co-hosts with comedian and actress Naomi Strain.
Communicating the specifics of a complex disability is a hard enough task within itself. Finding a way to make it entertaining is a whole new level of difficult, and finding a way to distil some easily digestible piece of meaning from something both immensely personal and overwhelmingly massive seems impossible. I’ve been to many a show where someone is sharing difficult, personal subject matter, and it all falls apart when they try to tie them up with a nice bow at the end. Willburry somehow threads this needle, largely due to a lightness of touch. There’s a moment in the middle of the show, where he frames pain as “the largest reducer of economic output in the world”. It can’t be negotiated with, it can’t be argued with, when pain arrives it forces you to stop producing and just pause. It gives you time to appreciate “how soft the fur of your pet is”. He gives us this observation, half a beat to process it, and then hops onto his next trick. Maybe if he dwelled on it I wouldn’t still be thinking about it two days later.
His tricks are charming, and all imbued with personality and humour. A notable standout involves a twenty dollar note ending up inside an uncut lemon, but Willburry is a confident juggler and diablo performer as well. His crowd work is strong, and his jokes - however dad-like they may be - generally land as well. You can tell that he’s been practising his craft for upwards of two decades at this point, and it’s a joy to watch someone with this level of confidence and experience.
Historically, I’m not a silver linings guy. I’m a believer that some things are just shit, and that’s okay - we don’t have to find the good in everything. Reading over The Unluckiest Magician’s Fringe description, I bristle a little at the claim that (Willburry’s) “awe-inspiring illusions not only entertain but also inspire, reminding us that even in our darkest moments, we can find the magic in life's challenges.” But honestly? Despite being a massive claim, and reeking of marketing speak, Willburry isn’t overpromising. Standing on the waterfront, watching Willburry captivate a group of kids, all context disappears. My knowledge of everything he’s been through vanishes, and I'm left alone in a moment of real joy. As an audience member, I’m deeply grateful that Willburry manages to line his challenges with gold.