Translated by Todd Karr

November 26, 4:30 p.m. I leave for Granada, with a stopover in Madrid…a very enjoyable convention with my Spanish friend…everything was great…as always, I methodically listen to my messages before leaving, just in case…a sad message awaits me from my friend François Weirtemer : “Christian is dead.”
           
What? Which Christian? I only know a few. A few quick calls confirm what I did not want to believe…not you…without seeing each other again, after several months when you had to go to the States…for business…I catch my plane for Madrid in such a state of shock that, even though I hate airplanes, for the first time I don’t even care…and when the tin can lands, I close my eyes, and I am with you…We are much younger; I’m not yet thirty and you just nine years older.
           
It was in Spain at a convention (sort of ironic) when we discovered each other…it was in Jaca, I believe – my thoughts are a mess – in any case, it was Dominique Duvivier, who was also there, and already your friend, who introduced us. You already knew of me, as a promising little youngster…with a number of comical ideas for close-up, while I only knew that you were a “big” film producer who loved magic…After my lecture, you sincerely congratulated me and suggested we have a drink…exciting!
           
Almost instantly, we were talking as if we had always known each other, you with your love of stage illusions, and even then Robert-Houdin, and me in love with close-up…Two visions…a single passion…We next walked around the dealer room…and proof of our kinship, you showed me your flagrant dislike for the supposed “grand illusions” being sold, not only often hideously decorated, but almost always poor piracies, such as a Zig Zag of the great Harbin or a so-called new Sub Trunk.
           
Your words still remain with me: “Why is there such mediocrity, when others have done so much better in the past, but in close-up, everything seems great and making progress! I am sure there are still innovations that could be made…I have a few thoughts on the subject…listen.”
           
I listen…and I am incredulous…you have just told me things that seem impossible, so impossible…Your basic concept is that one has to forget about all the boxes…all the trapdoors, all the scenery…One has to hold firm to these basic rules, because every box used is a weakness, an explanation in the eyes of the audience, who can sweep away all of magic with a single thought by simply saying, “OK, it’s a trick box.” All is happening very quickly…I am trying to keep up, to follow your thoughts. I say, “OK, you’ve said no more boxes, no more traps, etc., everything must be able to be performed in a living room. I don’t think there’s much more left to perform.”
           
At the time, you were still smoking your huge cigars…you took a puff or two, looked at me intensely, that smile that I adored was subtly drawn in the corners of your lips; you took your time to build up the joy, the revelation, and bit by bit, you described to me your future act, which was already in your mind…you were already secretly working on it…Faced with the list of impossibilities, I could hardly keep up…and you loved it. And I loved it, and you told me about the vanishing television with the transparent table, and the bottle of champagne, and the various levitations leading up to yours, the ultimate, Christ-like…and me, totally dazed, could only ask you, “You’re sure…no traps, no scenery…and you can perform it anywhere?”
           
I had no explanation for any of your “tricks”…I felt very small…