Is It a Magic Show or a Fire?

By Stefan Kanfer

Doug Henning tries to levitate a maundering musical

Merlin is a name to conjure with. He last appeared on Broadway in Camelot as the house magician, turning a common urchin into King Arthur. But playing the palace was nothing compared with his latest assignment. In a new show that bears his name, Merlin has been called on to change a dog into a hit.

From its earliest preview last December, this musical with magic found itself riddled with afflictions. Doug Henning, 35, may be America's premier illusionist, number his impish persona in eight TV specials and the longrunning 1974 extravaganza The Magic Show. But there are three things he cannot do onstage: sing, dance and act. To compensate, he cannily plays history's greatest wizard and surrounds himself with kinetic performers.

In Merlin, the hero is observed just before the Arthurian legend, when the world is a crystalline Stonehenge and miracles are the order of the day. His teacher is a sage (played by Edmund Lyndeck, a seasoned performer). The faun who haunts his dreams (Rebecca Wright) is a comet from American Ballet Theater. And his enemy, the wicked Queen, is Chita Rivera, a blast furnace best remembered from West Side Story. In the classic tradition, gorgon and wise man vie for the magician's soul and the privilege of influencing the unseen Arthur, the once and future king.

The outcome of the story, confected by William Link and Richard Levinson, has never been in doubt. Far more uncertain has been the fate of the show itself. From the start, Elmer Bernstein's dial-tone melodies and Don Black's laundry-list lyrics overwhelmed every scene. Lame gags and pyrotechnical special effects?a barrage of chemicals, dry ice, floating props and eccentric lighting?fought the tiny wisp of plot. During one inauspicious performance, Henning's wife Debby, who plays a variety of roles, including Water, one of the four elements, found herself on the wrong side of a fountain and emerged sopping wet.

Props were dropped, cues were missed, preview audiences became restive. The original director, Frank Dunlop, was summarily replaced by Co-Producer Ivan Reitman, and the footwork of Choreographer Christopher Chadman was supplemented by Billy Wilson's (Bubbling Brown Sugar). A parade of advisers came backstage to offer cardiopulmonary resuscitation: among them Directors Michael Bennett and Jerome Robbins. They all gave some general advice: Forget about the numbers; "Get on with the magic."

During weeks of sold-out preview performances, Henning bolstered the show with with more effects than he could shake a wand at. Many of them had never been seen since the days of Houdini and Blackstone; none has ever been performed so adroitly. Even fellow magicians gaped at Merlin's entrance in a five-inch bubble that mysteriously expanded to life size before the wizard emerged. The other illusions were no less astonishing. On center stage, Debby instantaneously vanished.

Henning flew through the air, turned up side down and sideways and floated under an arch, dispelling any suspicions of guy wires. Women were levitated, dismembered and recombined. As the audience watched, Merlin disappeared, leaving only his costume behind. In a narrow cage, a panther turned into a chorine. A white horse vanished into thick air and reappeared on command All the while, the plot frantically expanded to accommodate the new effects.

A budget of more than $4 million brought some rewards: audiences began giving the star standing ovations. Still, there were prestidigitations beyond even Henning's capacity: he could not hold back the press. Last week the New York Times and Daily News, weary of the chronic postponements of a formal opening night, decided to review Merlin two weeks before Feb. 13, the latest scheduled official premiere. The producers complained. True, Merlin had been trying out in New York City since Dec. 10, but only because the show was too complicated to take out of town. Repairs were still going on. Demanded Rivera: "Would [the critics] come to Philadelphia? Because that's where we are!" Post Reviewer Clive Barnes concurred: "I personally deplore my colleague's decision. A musical my is not the same as a fire." Countered the New York Times 's Arts and Leisure editor William Honan: "Our responsibility is to our readers. When a show becomes a public event, a good newspaper ought to cover it."

It would be pure illusion to suppose that Merlin is just a genial magic show that can get by on the razzle of its star and the dazzle of its effects. The musical is said to require a weekly gross of $275,000 merely to break even, a statistic that terrifies theater insiders. Still, Henning is one of Broadway's certified miracle workers. With a se ries of pans, The Magic Show ran 4? years. He could do it yet again. If he does, it will be the neatest trick of his brief but astonishing career. ?By Stefan Kanfer This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.