Lance Burton’s Loving Homage to Craft of Magic

Lance Burton is one affable magician. You’d be affable too if you’d had a 1,200-seat theater built exclusively for you on the Las Vegas Strip.

One of the longest running and most reliable draws in Vegas, Burton works most of the year from his home base at the theater that bears his name in Las Vegas’ Monte Carlo Hotel. Over the weekend, he brought his traveling show, “Lance Burton: Master Magician,” to the Cerritos Center for the Performing Arts. (The four-performance engagement ended Sunday.)

A slim, strikingly handsome man whose clipped drawl is reminiscent of Clint Eastwood’s, Burton doesn’t bother with the huge, satellite-dependent illusions you might see in a typical David Copperfield outing. That’s not just because of budgetary considerations. Burton is a magic purist whose show is a loving homage to his craft.

Burton, a native of Louisville, Ky., devotes his first illusion to Harry Collins, a Louisville magician who mentored Burton’s early career.

As he tears a newspaper, burns it, produces it intact, then extracts a dove from the reconstruction, Burton talks about being a child of 5 and watching Collins work, and the profound effect that his mentor’s simple coin illusion had on him. For a time, the wonder-struck young Burton actually believed it was possible to pluck silver dollars out of thin air. Of course, Burton soon learned the trick, but that simple illusion inspired a lifetime avocation.

Burton first saw Collins work at a Christmas party and, indeed, many of his own illusions are portable and simple enough to be quickly set up and performed at a child’s birthday celebration. In fact, Burton wisely capitalizes on the childlike wonder of the very young throughout his show, using child volunteers from the audience at frequent intervals.

In one of the most adorable moments, Burton invites a group of 6-year-olds onstage, then has them put their hands on a small cage holding Elvis, a tiny bird whom Burton jokes is the real “star” of the evening. The children’s amazed reactions when Elvis suddenly “disappears” are priceless.

Burton has ample opportunity to demonstrate his amazing sleight-of-hand skills, but he also engages in larger-scale illusions, complete with gorgeous and scantily costumed showgirls. The program also features two guest acts, the rubber-faced and very funny comedian-juggler Michael Goudeau, and the Great Tomsoni & Company. (The “company” is a hilariously gum-popping assistant, the antithesis of the pretty-girl norm.) The “Wizard of Warsaw,” by way of Chicago, Tomsoni is a broadly comic entertainer who owes a spiritual debt to Carl Ballantine’s classic magic act.

The big illusions are amazing and smartly done. But Burton’s strongest appeal is his folksy wit, his ability to communicate directly with his audience--a skill that can’t be taught.