Max Maven and the Magic of Becoming

By Mac Florendo

In the world of magic, there are those who perform... and there are those who transform.

At FISM Québec 2022, I witnessed a rare and deeply human moment—an intimate conversation with the legendary Max Maven. No smoke, no mirrors. Just truth, wisdom, and presence. And as I listened, I realized: this wasn’t just about one man’s story. This was a mirror for all of us—especially for us magicians here in the Philippines, fighting to be seen, to grow, and to uplift our craft and our communities.

Life, Magic, and Mortality

Max Maven spoke openly about being diagnosed with a brain tumor. He called it ironic—"For a mentalist to have a brain tumor." His words struck me. This man, who spent his life studying the mind, was now confronting the very fragility of his own.

“I spent a year trying to understand how to die,” he said, “and then I realized—I had to learn how to live.”

That line pierced me. As Filipino magicians, we too are living in a kind of transformation—wrestling with uncertainty, with limitations, with loss. But like Max, we have the choice to live fully, creatively, and courageously.

The Real Magic of FISM

Max didn’t just praise FISM for its competitions or fame. He praised its spirit—the way it brings people from different backgrounds, cultures, and histories together through magic.

“FISM was born from war. And it became a symbol of unity.”

That’s the kind of magic I believe in. A magic of connection, of healing, of breaking barriers. For us Filipinos, who often feel overlooked or underestimated in the global magic scene, FISM reminds us that our stories, our voices, belong.

Why History Matters to Our Future

Max is a guardian of magic’s history, and he said it clearly: we can’t move forward without looking back.

“If you don’t know where you’ve been, you can’t know where you’re going.”

This hit home. We have so many unsung Filipino magicians—pioneers who paved the way with little recognition. Part of our advocacy as Filipino artists is to document, celebrate, and carry forward their legacies. We honor the past so that future generations of Filipino magicians stand taller.

Mind Games and Quiet Genius

Max told a story of how he met David Berglas by strategically performing a trick designed to impress him through subtle research, not flash. He did his homework. He made the moment meaningful. That’s a kind of magic I deeply respect—intelligent, intentional, human.

It reminded me that the magic that moves people isn't always loud. Sometimes it's a whisper. A moment of insight. A quiet revolution.

Every Detail Is Magic

One of my favorite takeaways? Max talked about how he learned from R&B singers who choreographed their performances using microphone stands.

“A mic isn’t just a mic—it’s part of the show.”

For Filipino magicians, often performing with limited tools, this is powerful. It tells us: every detail matters. Our creativity doesn’t depend on expensive props—it depends on how deeply we care about the audience’s experience.

Magic with Responsibility

Max didn’t shy away from ethics. Mentalism, he said, walks a line between truth and illusion—and with that comes responsibility.

“You don’t get to step out and say, ‘Don’t worry, it’s just a show.’”

As performers, especially in the Philippines where belief systems are diverse and sacred, we must be mindful of how we present our art. Are we uplifting or misleading? Are we opening hearts or closing minds? Magic can be a tool for empathy—but only if we use it with care.

Three Audiences, One Goal

Max compared magic audiences to wrestling fans:

1. Some believe nothing.

2. Some believe everything.

3. Most aren’t sure—but they love the mystery.

That third group? That’s who we serve. Not to trick them, but to remind them that wonder still exists. In a world full of noise, we give them silence. In a world full of certainty, we give them questions.

Uplifting the Filipino Magic Scene

Listening to Max, I felt both humbled and empowered. Here was a man who had shaped magic globally—but he spoke with such honesty and humility. That’s the kind of leader I want to be. That’s the kind of magician I hope we become in the Philippines.

We don’t need to copy the West. We don’t need to chase fame. We need to tell our stories. We need to grow together. And we need to use magic not just to impress—but to inspire, to educate, and to unite.

Final Reflections: Max Maven, and the Magic of Becoming

At the end of the conversation, Max said something simple, but profound:

“I want my audience to leave changed. Even if it’s just a little.”

And that’s my dream, too. For every show, every article, every performance—to leave people better. To make magic more than tricks. To make it a force for good.

So here’s to Max Maven. Here’s to becoming. And here’s to all of us—Filipino magicians rising, daring, and choosing every day to live the mystery.

About the Author

Mac Florendo is a Filipino magician, storyteller, and advocate for creative growth and social change. Through magic and writing, he uplifts local artists, shares powerful narratives, and explores the intersections of performance, purpose, and personal transformation.