What if…a late and lukewarm take on Nathan Fielder & Derek DelGaudio?
Would you rather be forever stuck in a trauma-magic loop of: “child actor” or “Tim Gunn crying?”
Hello!
It’s me, introducing yet another new quasi-project! I feel fine about this one though because just like this silly little newsletter, it makes no promises. “Late and lukewarm take” gives me extra permission to write about media that’s long left the discourse rodeo. As I get older and further detached from Twitter, it just feels right to let my thinking about cultural artifacts percolate a bit longer. I think of it less like aging wine and more like cheese (presumably? this metaphor’s gonna fall apart real quick): Sometimes, waiting yields crystals and sharpness. Other times, it yields abhorrent funk.
Anyway, I did not originally write about The Rehearsal. I watched it, obviously. But there was just too much discourse, and the last thing I wanted to do was pretend like “child actors shouldn’t exist” was an original and unique take. I thought I had nothing new to add. Then I went to the Magic Castle.
Enter The Magic Castle
For those unfamiliar, the Magic Castle is a private club for members of the Academy of Magical Arts. It’s inside a literal (albeit small) castle in Hollywood that architecturally feels like a mix between a haunted house and a gothic suburban estate sale. The dress code is strict and vaguely classist. (Was the dress I wore “ravishing, experimenting with dramatic flair?” Absolutely not, but it got me through the door.) The only way to get in is to be a member or find one on the internet who will give you permission to then spend a hunk of money at an overpriced restaurant in exchange for a night full of shows.
All of this sounds like I’m a Magic Castle naysayer, but I loved it. There is a very strict no-photos policy, and I didn’t think of adding a courtroom sketch artist to my reservation until it was too late. So I have no proof of sitting at the magician’s table in The Close-up Gallery. Just imagine me saying “damn, okay” a bunch of times, then immediately fixating on how the magician pulled it off, maybe even a childlike part of me wanting to find the question beyond explanation.
I noticed that the quicker I could get to a hypothesis on “how” the magic was done, the more I started exploring “why.” And for the larger shows at the Castle, I found myself wanting that “why” to be something beyond “hands can move fast.”
Enter Derek DelGaudio
Home the next day, I was poking around for magic content and found Derek DelGaudio’s In & Of Itself. Hulu says the special is “a new kind of lyric poem.” My friends (when it was originally released in 2020) say it’s “unbelievable; I cried like four times.” Both of those reports may as well be anti-endorsements, but as a newly minted magic head, I prevailed.
At the Castle, I got to see magicians use all sorts of things for misdirection. The Jonathan Groff-lookin’ bro? He used a lot of yelling and a container of almond milk. The old-timey cat in the closeup gallery? You already know it was a vat of marginally sexist jokes from 1972. The straightjacket lady? Radiohead’s “Creep,” which she performed acapella, while also blowing out the sound system (pejorative). But In & Of Itself? Derek DelGaudio surpasses all these misdirection amateurs and uses exclusively trauma.
“Trauma” as a concept feels so oversaturated at this point, I’m tempted to avoid it entirely. Tiktokification or not though, what else do you call someone standing on a stage, giving a string of lactonic monologues on topics like suicidal impulses, childhood violence, and his muddled sense of self, pausing for the occasional choke-up? Oh, also brief pauses for audience reactions to illusions! DelGaudio entrances his audiences into such depths of feeling that they sometimes miss his little tricks. (There’s gotta be an earpiece, right? And surely friends/family were contacted ahead of time? Still not sure about the brick, though. Hit me if you’ve figured it out!)
I too felt something. It’s damn near impossible not to, watching Tim Gunn blubber as DelGaudio acknowledges him as a good Samaritan. Then I discovered that the live show was performed more than 500 times. Imagine performing a particularly rough therapy session nightly for almost two years to a crowd with the same emotional showmanship every time! Then imagine you’re doing that as a way to misdirect the audience so they don’t see a brick get taken offstage!
The whole thing made me feel a bit ill. Not the same illness as sitting through a present-day episode of Vanderpump Rules — I know exactly why watching those bozos frolic around the valley would make me feel bad. This was more of a low-grade cognitive dissonance. A mix of awe and discomfort sitting in my gut like a poorly microwaved corn dog. I’d be surprised by all of this if I hadn’t felt it mere months before. Yes, I’m talking about The Rehearsal.
Enter Nathan Fielder
Just as it could be said that DelGaudio uses trauma as misdirection for magic, Nathan Fielder wields magic as misdirection for examining trauma. Or at least to start. Fielder, a magic fan (and Magic Castle member!) himself, pulls off a nesting doll of tricks, showing us every secret, including fun new ethical quandaries beneath each layer. Witnessing Fielder painstakingly build an exact replica of a shitty bar or hire multiple levels of actors in order to reach a specific outcome doesn’t feel that different from watching “Magic Secrets Revealed.” Except Fielder isn’t wearing a mask.
Or is he? Is the persona of “Nathan, The Rehearsal mastermind” the same as “Nathan Fielder, the creator/comedian/person/etc.”? Just like in In & Of Itself, I’d argue it doesn’t matter. Fielder and DelGaudio share a common energy. With a flat affect and awkward (or less generously —perfectly planned and intentionally fraught) pauses, there’s emptiness ripe for projection. Our brains can’t help but fill the gaps with whatever analysis is most comfortable. Whether we choose to think about consent, faith, ethics, neurosis, or raw production value, we’re pulling from Fielder’s Svengali deck. Free will does not exist in magic.
All of this has me thinking about the thin line between magic and manipulation. Is there even a difference? Does manipulation become magic only when something is generated or erased, without straightforward explanation? What if that “something” is trauma, sanity, or expectation?
Is Nathan Fielder just David Blaine in a pair of New Balance 990s?
This newsletter brought to you by:
Asking strangers on the internet for invitations to the Magic Castle
Mini Teddy Grahams, honey flavor
A trip to The World Famous Crochet Museum
And as always, procrastination on other things that are scawwwwry
Fucking YES 👏