A version of this review first appeared in the Evening Standard here.

Derren Brown’s latest show is called Miracle and for me the opening miracle was finding a parking space within walking distance of the theatre. That was the first of many gobsmackingly wonderful moments last night.

As usual Brown has asked critics not to reveal spoilers. “Make it up,” he joked, adding that journalists are good at that. He need not worry, as much of what he does defies words. Some tricks, with sharp and dangerous objects, have roots in traditional magic, but there is invariably a gut-wrenching twist.

The way he blends techniques raises the bafflement bar. Is he reading body language? Is he planting suggestions? Has he got a tiny rabbit in his waistcoat pocket? It could be any permutation.

he show divides neatly into two sections: deft quickfire illusions plus one spectacular extended feat, which involves him rolling up his sleeves, being hammy and racing around the stalls. Fans enlisted are not stooges. I knew one and can vouch for their authenticity.

Alongside the wizardry there is a motif of living life in the moment. It is mildly cheesy, like his comic patter, yet harmless. Ignore the fortune cookie philosophy and enjoy the spell-binding entertainment. Conjuring is currently cool, with magicians everywhere, but in terms of quality Brown is streets ahead.

Until January 16, tickets here.