Mentalist?  Psychological illusionist?  Magician?  Fit for a Fairground?  Whatever your thoughts on the man himself, there is no denying that Derren Brown is a master showman.  From the very second he graced the stage, quietly smiling as he acknowledged his rapturous reception, to the final breathtaking moments, Mr Brown was consistently as engaging as he was exhausting.

It is difficult to describe such an intricately woven show without revealing many of the wonderful effects created, thus rendering a trip there yourself essentially pointless – but I will tell you that the night is divided into two very definite parts: an eclectic mix of humour and ‘smaller’ tricks (determining which audience member out of 5 possessed a black ball to the others’ four white through various human-lie detection tests) constructing the first act, while a sobering reminder that ‘what you are about to see is not suitable for under 12s’ preceding the interval.  

In fact, the opening section of the second act simply defies words.  Never have I seen such an extreme manner used to capture the focus of an audience after drinking time, and served as a reminder as to quite why Derren Brown is so revered today.  Sitting perfectly still centre stage and with the curtain finally raised, he proceeded to rise and walk determinedly toward the audience’s front row.  Silently selecting an assistant of his choosing, he proceeded to walk determinedly back to his seat, placing the ‘volunteer’ directly opposite.  

**Warning, this section of the review contains a spoiler, if you'd rather not know what happens, skip over this bit***

His next action, drawing from any medieval film in which torture features prominently, was to unroll a selection of ominous looking sharp, shiny tools.  Sterilising a nail and placing it inside his nostril, audible gasps emanated all around as he calmly, casually and silently began to hammer… harder…again and again… until the nail had disappeared from view and was happily embedded far into the cavity of his head.

“I told you it wasn’t for under 12’s” he proclaimed as he understandably blew his nose. 

**Spoiler over***

Continuing in a similar ‘rather you than me mate’ vein, he informs us that his years of experience have allowed him to apply his undeniably immense talents upon himself: most pertinently, the ability to withstand inhuman amounts of pain… in relative comfort.  As I have mentioned before, to relate a step-by-step account of ‘what happened next’ would be to commit this show an injustice.  There is a final twist of M.Nnight.Shyamalan’nic (what?... It could be a word) proportions, but to divulge any more would be like someone cheerfully telling you Bruce Willis is actually a ghost before you ever had a chance to see Sixth Sense. 

So, as I pondered the show on the journey home and attempted even the remotest notion of comprehension, my little un-magic mind couldn’t conjure up an explanation as to how a man so delightfully witty and phenomenally talented could also serve to astonish us in a really frustrating way.  Thriving on an eager participatory audience, the people, the tricks, the effects surely must alter… thus rendering any logical investigation futile and dull.  Yet, as I left (and perhaps because I’m British and therefore crave disappointment) I couldn’t overcome my feelings of somehow being cunningly cheated but not really knowing why.  There is far more to Derren Brown than meets the eye and I’m still no closer to ever defining what it is he actually does – I just hope he keeps doing whatever ‘it’ is for a very long time. 

He has always amazed me, and he always will.

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