Are three cups too many?

There are things in the art of magic that seem so self-evident that nobody asks anymore why they are the way they are. The classic cup-and-ball trick is a case in point: three cups, three balls and a wand. This article is intended to stimulate thought and will hopefully not spark a heated debate.

Why three cups, actually? Because Dai Vernon used three? Because retailers have been selling them in sets of three for ages? Or is the magician perhaps afraid that the audience might not take him seriously if he uses only two cups?

The cup-and-ball trick is probably one of the oldest tricks in the world. Even in ancient Egyptian illustrations, you can see people handling cups and small objects. The trick has survived for millennia. Over those millennia, hardly anyone has apparently had the courage to say: “You know what? Perhaps one less cup would do.”

Yet this question isn’t so absurd after all, for when you take a closer look at the classic three-cup trick, a number of problems become apparent: there are (and happen) many things on the table at the same time. Three cups, three balls, several moves (the third of which is usually superfluous), several instances of balls and cups passing through one another (usually three, of course, though two would usually suffice), several phases that are often performed simply because one has three balls that one wants to make use of somehow, but which one could omit in favour of a clearer effect. And at the end, there are still three (or even four) final moves, because that makes it look even better.

At some point, the audience sits there like a Labrador in front of a washing machine: something is constantly happening, but nobody knows exactly what anymore.

The arguments in favour of the number three are well known: harmony, the dramatic power of three, the geometric elegance. All valid points. But clarity also has dramatic power – and with two cups, there is more of it.

Tommy Wonder has shown just how incredibly elegant and focused a two-cup routine can appear. The same applies to David Williamson’s “Golden Cups Routine”. Even Hofzinser himself explored two-cup ideas. He spoke of a main cup that was larger than the two smaller ‘side cups’ and visually distinct from them. In principle, the balls would then move from the side cups to the main cup to make it easier for the audience to perceive and understand the effect. So this is by no means a modern minimalist concept devised by people who wanted to save on the third cup.

I believe I am familiar with around 80% of the common three-cup routines, and I have had practical experience with most of them in one form or another. And I have come to the conclusion that using two cups creates greater focus and clarity. The spectator can get a better overview of the situation. The positions of the cups and balls can be grasped at a glance and remain in the memory. The ball moves from cup A to cup B (or vice versa) and not from A to B and then suddenly to C, only to reappear under A or B. This complete chaos is, in some routines, no longer comprehensible to a normal-thinking audience member in an age of dwindling attention spans. Result: By the third sequence at the latest, the audience tunes out. In routines with two cups, the individual effects carry more weight, as they are not overshadowed by the other props on the table and the associated visual clutter.

A major advantage: The routines automatically become shorter and are therefore easier for the audience to digest – a plus in times of ever-shrinking attention spans. Most cup-and-ball routines suffer from too many repetitions of what is essentially always the same effect. Balls move back and forth under the cups, appear, disappear or pass through the cups. Usually there are two repetitions of the same thing, meaning the audience sees the same effect three times. Twice would be quite enough.

To put it simply: with three cups, you demonstrate many possibilities and combinations. With two cups, you demonstrate magic that today’s audience can understand and remember. Two-cup routines get straight to the point without detours.

There is also another practical aspect: two cups take up less space on the performance area. That sounds trivial, but it is hugely important. Especially today, when many performances no longer take place at huge tables but in restaurants, bars, small seminar rooms or at crowded conference dinner tables, every square centimetre suddenly becomes crucial. For a street performer, for example, this means less weight and a smaller performance table top, making everything easier to transport.

Pocket organisation and so-called pocket management are also reduced and become simpler. There is less metal and fewer lemons, and therefore fewer suspicious bulges in the pockets, and far less clutter overall. As a rule, one entire jacket pocket remains empty, which should not be underestimated in practical terms! Some magicians now carry around more copper than a medium-sized plumbing firm.

And then there is another argument, which for me is the most important one in favour of a two-cup routine: the 30-cm rule. I have written about this at length in my book on misdirection. With two cups, they are positioned exactly the right distance apart, so that the 30-cm rule can be easily observed. This makes many sequences more deceptive. When the 30-cm rule is applied, the spectator cannot consciously focus on one of the two cups. However, they see both cups and have the impression that they have everything in view. With three cups, they could focus much more easily on one cup – and that is usually exactly the wrong one. One could also say: whilst two cups focus attention and give the performer maximum control, three cups disperse attention.

Of course, there are other reasons that are truly important to some people. For example, wealth. Anyone who places three heavy silver cups on the table is signalling: ‘I’ve made it.’ Four or five cups might be even better, but then you quickly look like a kitchenware salesman presenting his wares. Three, however, are the absolute minimum. Moreover, the principle of cost-effectiveness applies: if I’ve spent that much money on the three cups, then I want to show them off. Anything else would be a waste.

And what justification would the third cup then have? Apart from the fact that it is anchored in the collective memory of magicians? The classic three-cup trick possesses a historical gravitas in the modern perception. It seems grander, more traditional, more monumental. Apparently, some sequences work better with three positions. And one must under no circumstances alter a ‘classic’. One should neither encourage nor dismiss this. From a technical point of view, however, the third cup is not at all necessary for the vast majority of routines, as the best effects can also be achieved with just two cups – much more clearly and without unnecessary repetitions.

It is better not to ask: “What is right?”, but rather: “Why exactly am I doing it this way?”. It’s likely that some magicians use three cups simply because they’ve never seen anything else and because “that’s just how it’s done”. In the art of magic, this is surprisingly often the real reason behind traditions and rules. Yet sometimes, simply omitting one cup is enough to suddenly realise: the routine goes down better. The effect becomes clearer, the audience’s attention more focused, and the magic more powerful.

If you still want to stick with three cups, don’t worry – you’re in good company. After all, the Egyptians have been doing it this way for 4,000 years – and you wouldn’t want to destroy such a historic tradition by simplifying it, would you?