Abracadabra Bitch

Abracadabra Bitch is a show that does exactly what it says on the tin: it waves a wand, shouts some sass, and hopes the magic lands. And, for the most part, it does.

The direction was fine—nothing ground-breaking, but it kept things moving. The set was charmingly minimal: a teddy, a TV screen, and a smattering of props. Not exactly Vegas, but hey, it left room for the performer’s personality to fill the stage (which it absolutely did).

Technically, the show was tight. Lighting was well-executed, with some nifty live mixing that felt like its own mini trick. Sound? Lovely levels. Every joke, every gag, every muttered aside—clear as day. Fringe shows don’t always nail this, so big points there.

The performance itself was a high-energy ride: fun, cheeky, and consistently engaging. The audience never felt left behind (well, except maybe the poor “bully” roped into a long-running gag—which, to be fair, was one of the night’s best bits and somehow never wore thin).

Content-wise, most of the magic tricks hit the sweet spot, though a couple of scenes dragged on a beat too long. There were also attempts at more sentimental moments, but they never quite stuck—it felt like we were meant to feel something deeper, and instead ended up waiting for the next punchline. A few more tricks wouldn’t have gone amiss either; the segues into the ones we did get were smooth, but magic’s the headline act here, so why not double down?

Abracadabra Bitch is a fizzy, high-energy show that delivers laughs, sparkle, and a healthy dose of camp chaos. It’s not flawless, but it’s fun—and at the Fringe, that’s half the magic.