You've probably seen those floating hands. Those disembodied, white-gloved fingers wiggling in a pool of light against a pitch-black stage. It's the ultimate Broadway image. When the orchestra hits that first slinky vamp, and the Leading Player whispers about having "Magic to Do," most people think they’re just settling in for a fun night of circus tricks and catchy tunes.
They’re wrong.
That opening number isn't just a welcome wagon; it’s a trap. If you’re planning to stage this, or even if you're just a fan trying to figure out why this song feels so eerie, you have to understand that the "magic" isn't the point. The manipulation is. Pippin Magic to Do is the moment the audience signs a contract they haven't actually read.
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The Fosse Touch: Why it Feels Like a Fever Dream
Honestly, we can't talk about this song without talking about Bob Fosse. Stephen Schwartz wrote a beautiful, folk-rock score, but Fosse turned it into something dangerously sexy and cynical. He’s the one who decided the show should be performed by a "troupe" of players who feel more like a cult than a theater company.
When the Leading Player—originally the legendary Ben Vereen, and later the powerhouse Patina Miller—steps out, they aren't just inviting you to a show. They're inviting you to watch a young man destroy himself for your entertainment.
The choreography is weirdly specific. You’ve got:
- Turned-in knees and hunched shoulders.
- Splayed "jazz hands" that look more like claws.
- Small, isolated movements that feel mechanical.
It’s supposed to look effortless, but it’s actually incredibly taxing. Dancers often talk about the "Fosse slump," which requires a core of steel to look that relaxed while being that precise. If your actors are just "dancing happy," they’re missing the entire subtext. The magic should feel a little threatening.
How to Actually Do the Magic
So, you’re putting on the show and you actually have to perform the Pippin Magic to Do sequences. This is where a lot of high school and community theater productions stumble. They try to do "real" Vegas-style illusions, and it usually ends up looking clunky.
Keep it simple. The Broadway revival used actual circus performers, which is great if you have a trapeze artist lying around. If you don't? Stick to the classics that focus on sleight of hand.
The Scarf Vanish
In many versions, the Leading Player makes a silk scarf disappear only to have it reappear as a massive curtain. Don't overcomplicate this. Most pros use a thumb tip. It's a five-dollar piece of plastic that, when used correctly, makes a small red silk vanish into thin air. The trick isn't the prop; it's the "misdirection." You look at your empty hand, the audience looks at your empty hand, and boom—you’ve got them.
Fire and Light
Fosse loved a good spotlight. In "Magic to Do," the lighting is a character. If you want to nail the atmosphere, you need "limpet" lighting—tight, sharp beams that catch the hands and faces but leave everything else in total darkness. Use flash paper for quick bursts of fire. It disappears instantly with no ash, making the "miracle" look real for a split second before the dance continues.
The Lyrics: A Warning in Plain Sight
"Join us, leave your fields to flower. Join us, leave your cheese to sour."
Does that sound like a happy invitation to you? It's basically telling the audience to let their real lives rot while they watch this "anecdotic revue." The song is a seductive promise of "glory" and "extraordinary" things, which is exactly what the character of Pippin is hunting for.
Basically, the Leading Player is a pusher. They’re selling a high that doesn't exist. By the time the song ends and the "Magic to Do" is supposedly done, the trap is set. Pippin enters, thinking he's the hero of his own story, but the troupe knows he's just the evening's sacrifice.
Why the "Magic" Often Fails
The biggest mistake directors make is forgetting that the players are watching us.
When the troupe sings to the back of the house, they shouldn't be smiling like they're in Oklahoma!. There should be a hunger there. This is a meta-theatrical masterpiece. If the audience doesn't feel a little bit like they’re being watched by the performers, the magic is just a gimmick.
I’ve seen productions where the "magic" was so polished it felt like a Disney show. It sucked the life out of it. It should feel a bit gritty. A bit vaudeville. Like a traveling carnival that might pack up and steal your wallet in the middle of the night.
Practical Steps for Performers
If you're an actor playing a member of the troupe, your job isn't just to do the steps. You are the "magic."
- Isolation is Key: Practice moving just your fingers while the rest of your body is a statue. Fosse is about what isn't moving as much as what is.
- The Fourth Wall: Break it. Hard. Look the audience members in the eye. Don't look at the space above their heads. Make them uncomfortable.
- The "Woo": That weird vocalization the ensemble does? It’s not a ghost sound. It’s a beckoning. It should sound like a breeze or a whisper you can't quite ignore.
The show is a cycle. That’s why the ending—where a new "Pippin" (often the child Theo) starts to sing—is so haunting. The magic never actually ends; it just waits for a new victim.
To really master the performance, focus on the tension between the upbeat melody and the dark intent. Use minimal props but maximum intent. Ensure your lighting team understands that shadows are more important than the lights themselves. When you find that balance, you aren't just doing a musical number; you're creating the specific brand of "magic" that has kept this show running for over fifty years.
Next time you hear those opening notes, listen for the threat under the thumb snaps. That’s where the real story lives.
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Actionable Insights for Production:
- Source professional-grade flash paper for the pyrotechnics; it’s safer and more visually striking than standard stage effects.
- Invest in "black-out" gloves—standard white gloves under UV or tight spot lighting create the "floating hand" illusion seen in the original 1972 staging.
- Rehearse the "Manson Trio" style of dance specifically focusing on "dead-eye" stares to maintain the cynical tone.