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In the Twilight of the Magicians

As with any good union of opposites there are multiple shots of a nude starlet cradling swords.

The promotional literature for Brian Butler’s “Union of Opposites,” a film premiere/Crowley-inspired ritual combo, was shot through with references to magicians gone by, and of course as soon as you hear the word “Crowley” the first impulse is to just bite your own ears off. But preconceived notions are their own kind of curse, their own kind of backwards magic you work on yourself.

The ritual began before it began, with about 60 people crammed into a small foyer, including women in flouncy skirts making small circles and smaller talk. Yet even in these twilit moments of tedium at the Santa Monica Airport for Art Los Angeles Contemporary–which carries with it the incessant specter of death from above–the sensual world intrudes. “I went to the dentist at 9:30 in the morning and I still can’t feel my mouth!”

The magic you felt but didn’t see: The subtle grace of the sudden silence in crowds happening every eight minutes. The unexpected generosity of the parking lot attendant who lets you park even though you don’t have $10. The oddly musical pulse of the fog machine gathering mist around an altar shrouded in black; a bass rumbling bordering on the infrasonic. What did all those millennia of magisters do before fog machines?

Butler’s film premiere stars Mircalla Glass, aka Annakim Violette, aka Tom Petty’s daughter, in natural locales, hiding behind trees as water pools on the ground. Occasionally Butler’s cowled form appears. As with any good union of opposites there are multiple shots of the nude starlet in mirror image. She eventually finds herself in a misty mansion, dressed in beaded finery before being reduced to the simplicity of a nude on that wet forest floor, a sword running the length of her body as she cradles it.

After the film ends, Butler strikes the altar with his wand, then uses the tools to draw sigils in the air. He and his nude muse slowly stalk each other around the stage. Occasionally, she opens her mouth. Occasionally, he speaks inaudibly. The main question arising from both film and ritual is “What am I actually seeing?” Clearly we were all participants, just by nature of being there. But magic doesn't always depend on what you can see, or how much you know. Sometimes it's just a feeling you get.