[2015077] Frank, the Mind-reading Hotdog

[2015077] Frank, the Mind-reading Hotdog

Matt Penny @ Holden Street Theatres – The Studio

6:00pm, Wed 25 Feb 2015

I’m eating sleep-averting Twisties in the bar at Holden Street when a man approaches me: “You’re here to see Frank, the Mind-reading Hotdog?” he queries. I nod afformatively and, noticing the clipboard in his hand, guessed what was coming next. “Draw any picture,” he suggested, “as long as you can recreate it later on.”

So, since I’m a Pisces, I drew this, keeping the image to myself:

A crap attempt at a fish

(I quite like the left-handed wry smile.)

And, with a nod (and without seeing what I’d drawn), the man talks me to keep the piece of paper in my pocket… and walks away.

When the audience settles in The Studio for Frank the Mind-reading Hotdog, numbers are disappointing… depressing, even. There’s six of us in the space, and at least two of those were Holden Street staff; but it doesn’t take much cajoling for us to all sit in the front row, and one of the other ticket holders is bubbly and enthusiastic.

When Frank the Mind-reading Hotdog appears… well, he’s a hotdog. Or a man in a sketchy hotdog suit, anyway. He explains away the suit, tells us a little about himself (a Perth-based mentalist), and a bit about the trickery behind mentalism… and then proceeded to blow our minds.

Sure, I can speculate on how some of his tricks were performed: three six digit numbers, added together, texted to a phone… I can kinda see how that might work. Audience members interacting with three sections of a board which never leaves Frank’s hands… yeah, I’ve kinda got that one, too.

But knowing about my fish? Picking the fact that I wrote “bedroom” on a card (though I’m probably wearing my Significant Other’s impending visit all over my face)? Convincing one girl he touched her left hand, when he only touched her right?

That stuff was amazing.

And through it all, Frank is… just Frank. A sweaty man in a non-breathing hotdog suit. He’s constantly taking the piss out of himself (and the audience), and there’s awful jokes between each trick that keep the show moving along… the mentalism almost feels incidental to his preposterous presence. But it totally works. And the fact that we were so close to him at every stage of proceedings just made his tricks all the more special.

(I talked to Frank after the show and learn that he’d just lost a friend back in Perth, and was cancelling the rest of his run to return there for the funeral. Mad props to him for delivering such a professional show with that weighing on his mind.)

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