A brand new mind-bending theatrical experience. Prepare to have your reality rewritten… Following sold-out shows around the world, Ben Hart returns with a brand new show – his most astonishing and impossible yet. An entirely unique voice in magic, Ben Hart brings together enthralling storytelling, sharp wit and indisputable charm, to create magic shows that are unforgettable, funny and profoundly baffling. This time, it’s not just magic – it’s real. Is it magic? Or has Ben Hart uncovered something far more remarkable? One thing is certain – you’ll never see the world the same way again.
Would you mind giving us a brief insight into what your show/event/performance is?
It’s a magic show, but not in the traditional sense. There are no top hats, no rabbits, no glitter. Instead, it’s a theatrical, psychological and surreal experience that uses magic as a way to explore ideas about memory, identity, belief, and the way we construct reality. It’s original, unpredictable, and funny, but I hope there’s also something underneath it – a sense that this might not just be entertainment, but something a little stranger… I’m often described as part storyteller and part magician, and I think that this show is a good example of that. It’s magic that doesn’t feel like a planned routine—it feels like a dream you half-remember, and can’t quite explain.
Tell us about the creative team and the process involved?
I write, direct, build the props, and design the sound myself. I’ve always worked that way—it keeps the vision clear and lets me build material from the ground up without compromise. Every object is bespoke, every beat is considered. I collaborate closely with Nemo Gandossini, who designs the lighting and overall production. His work gives the show its visual language and brings out the surreal, cinematic tone we aim for. Behind that, there’s a brilliant team that supports the production and marketing, helping me focus on the creative side while still reaching the audience. The process is obsessive. It involves a lot of writing, testing, throwing things out, rebuilding, and slowly uncovering the exact rhythm the show needs to feel alive. It’s a lot of writing and re-writing and re-writing, and it’s a very painful process really!
How does it feel coming to the Fringe?
The Fringe is one of the only places where I can do this kind of work—unfiltered, risky, intimate. Without the pressure of a TV producer or corporate booker trying to keep the madness bottled up. The Fringe is exhausting, of course, and overwhelming at times. But that’s part of its power. It forces you to sharpen your work to its essence. The audiences here are sharp, and they’ve seen everything and can smell dishonesty. That’s a good thing. It makes you better. I’ve always tried to use the Fringe as a place not just to perform, but to test the limits of what a magic show can be. This year (my 11th year), I think I’ve gone further than ever before. The show is stranger, tighter, and more emotionally charged than anything I’ve done previously. I will be challenging myself, and I’m very excited by it.
With shows from all over the world at the Fringe, what sets yours apart?
This show doesn’t fit into a box. It’s not quite theatre, not quite comedy, and not quite magic as most people understand it. But it borrows from all three. I’m interested in the space between categories—the shows that catch you off-guard, that build slowly, then suddenly turn sharp. What sets this apart is the tone. It’s subtle. It’s precise. It’s spooky, and it rewards attention. It’s not about volume or spectacle—it’s about control, about how long I can keep an audience suspended in that space just before something impossible happens. The comedy comes from a place of honesty, not punchlines. The storytelling doesn’t announce itself, but it emerges from the structure. And when something impossible does occur, it doesn’t feel like a trick; it feels like a shift in the atmosphere. It’s also full of unique magic that I’ve been developing and can’t be seen anywhere else.
Is there anything specific you’re hoping the audience will take away?
At the very least, I want them to feel they’ve seen something they’ve never seen before. The show isn’t preachy, and it doesn’t end with a big message. But there is an emotional undercurrent that builds throughout, and if it lands right, it stays with people. Some leave laughing, some feel slightly haunted, some come back to see it again because they’re still not sure how to describe it. That’s the effect I’m aiming for. Something memorable, not just in the tricks, but in the atmosphere. I don’t want to tell people what to think but I do hope they leave with a sense that something small—but meaningful—just changed. An hour watching things you cannot explain has the power to genuinely re-wire the way people see the world.
Your Ideal audience is in attendance, who’s watching? Or more importantly – who isn’t…?
The best audience is curious. They don’t need to know anything about magic, or even like it, as long as they’re open to being surprised. The show is not loud or flashy, and it doesn’t hold your hand. It assumes the audience is intelligent, which I think they are. Who isn’t there? The cynics. The ones who decide ahead of time what it is they’re watching. The show doesn’t work on people who sit with their arms folded, waiting to catch me out. But for everyone else (for anyone who enjoys a story with a sharp edge and the sheer fun the impossible), it’s a fun time.
It’s an intense month, so where you’re able, how do you plan to relax, and are there any other shows you intend to see or want to recommend?
I try to rest properly when I can (decent food, silence, sleep). But mostly I’ll be drawn to shows that do something unexpected. I love work that doesn’t follow the rules: dance shows with no movement, comedies that leave you devastated, magic shows that forget to be tricks. If I feel confused and thrilled at the same time, I’m in the right place. As for recommendations, it’s hard to say until I’m there, but I always look for artists who are doing something they probably weren’t advised to do! Sometimes, instead of going to watch a show, I’ll just find somewhere to sit and people-watch. I love seeing the characters who are
in the city for the month. It’s truly my favourite place in the world.
In your ideal world, how can we improve the Fringe, performance, and the industry?
Make it easier for original voices to be heard. That means real support for artists—not just financially, but structurally. Less emphasis on box-ticking. More room for risk. More diversity—not just in background, but in form. Audiences want to be challenged. They want to be moved, surprised, even confused. But those kinds of shows are hard to make under pressure. The Fringe could be a laboratory for artistic evolution, but only if we stop rewarding the safest work and relying on reviewers who’s knowledge of the form they are reviewing prevents them from seeing it through the eyes of a new or less experienced audience member. And the industry in general? It needs to start listening to the people making the work, not just selling it. It feels that artists are making work to fit into venues and platforms that are increasingly less relevant to new audiences…
Interested in being featured on our Have a Gander page? With many previews and Q&As lined up, we’re always happy to chat about including your show in future articles. Please do get in touch through the contact page to feature in an upcoming ‘Have A Gander’