Jack knife juggernaut

If muscle memory could be measured like IQ, Todd Abrams would be neck-and-neck with Einstein. So why is this motor-skills madman positioned directly under Adam Sandler’s backside?

With his arms fully extended, Abrams spins scissors close enough to the actor’s face to give him an unfortunate shave. The thing is, if you’re going to be the stunt hands for the most popular comedy star in the world, and your stage name is Jack Dagger, it’s kind of your job to make these effects look as dangerous as possible.

And that’s the job Abrams performs every day. At private parties, corporate events and fairs, the Baton Rouge native wows audiences with knife-hurling precision sharper than his blades. And even though his footage was cut from the theatrical release of Sandler’s You Don’t Mess with the Zohan last summer, he’s had plenty of play on the tube.

Abrams filmed stunt throws as the stand-in for David Boreanaz in a circus-themed episode of Bones, and appeared on Monk as star Tony Shalhoub’s Benihana-style knife-juggling hibachi chef. “I had to do all these tricks and spin the knives in my hands and cut vegetables and work with a spatula,” Abrams says. “Meanwhile the grill is on and burning, and they say ‘Ready, set, go! Oh yeah, and be funny!’”

The Monk gig was literally trial by fire, but Abrams’ craft must always be an inspired mix of comedy, sleight-of-hand and the world-class knife throwing skills he began developing as a bored kid growing up in Baton Rouge.

“I was just a little nerd and thought throwing screwdrivers into the dirt would be fun,” he says. “Then it was pocket knives into skateboards.” Abrams even lied about his age to buy his first knife. His parents thought it was an odd hobby at first, but when he showed talent, they were supportive.

In June 1990, while he was playing on the LSU drumline during the dismal Curley Hallman years, Abram’s father died of cancer. Four years later, his mother passed away from a brain aneurysm. Abrams says he struggled in school after their deaths, but he graduated from Southeastern in 1997.

Three years later he moved to Houston. It was there that he entered a knife-throwing contest, and the executive director of the International Knife Throwers Hall of Fame recognized his talent. Mike “Alamo” Bainton brought Abrams to Austin and put him through an intensive boot camp. “I threw 1,200 knives in one sitting with him,” Abrams says. “I remember being so sweaty, taking my shirt off and just collapsing on the concrete.”

Armed with a niche skill, he moved to Los Angeles in 2003. Abrams felt good about his chances in Hollywood, even if he would still spend most of his time tending bar.

“I’m a Louisiana boy, and as soon as I got to L.A. I realized what a bizarre world I had landed in,” Abrams says. “I had a unique skill set, so I decided to do knives full-time.”

Abrams worked as a bartender but spent countless hours developing a charismatic alter ego named Jack Dagger. Along with a friend, Shelby Bond, he launched the Renaissance Fair-ready duo the VanKleaver Brothers. Abrams became a knife-throwing comedian, and like any comedian, he runs into the occasional heckler. But, really, who in their right mind heckles a champion knife- and axe-thrower? Seriously. He once had to stop a performance to ask that very question.

Now billed as the “King of Fling,” Abrams has gone mainstream with many television appearances in the last year. He even appeared on a couple of Japanese shows. But what Abrams really wants to do is make something—other than fence-splitting and throwing screwdrivers into dirt—happen in Baton Rouge. And he wants it to be big.

“I want to get going and put something out there that is good,” Abrams says. “I want it to happen here rather than waiting for things out in L.A. I think the timing is right.”

In March he was back in Baton Rouge meeting with friend and local filmmaker Kevin White to spitball ideas for a graphic novel series starring Jack Dagger. Abrams put on a demonstration for the benefit of 225 and the detriment of a backyard fence in Jefferson Terrace.

Wearing his trademark “Ninja, please” T-shirt—because compared to one-pound custom-made knives, a tiny throwing star just doesn’t cut it—Jack Dagger assumes a commanding stance and Todd Abrams disappears. Dagger draws his first knife, letting loose that cold, sharp silver sound. He measures his target and releases. The knife rotates in a blur, cuts a flower dangling from White’s teeth and—thwack—lands in the fence; a perfect strike with a narrow split running a couple feet in each direction up and down the wood.

While Abrams develops local projects, he still has to contend with his growing renown nationwide. He makes a living at live shows and private parties, but more and more fans are recognizing Jack Dagger from TV or even a certain magazine that annually ranks guys by their looks. Abrams was named one of People magazine’s Sexiest Men Alive in 2008. “I share a page with Todd Palin,” Abrams says. “When they called me, I thought it was a joke. I thought ‘Obviously, you haven’t seen me with my shirt off, or else we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’”

Abrams can never take himself too seriously. Practicing the impalement arts in a Baton Rouge backyard, he displays the same casual attitude he showed in a recent episode of the History Channel’s More Extreme Marksmen. After doing his “pin the tail on the hot chick” throws outlining the body of his assistant, Tonya Kay, with knives, Abrams sliced a grape tossed in mid-air and cut a cucumber Kay held right next to her forearm.

“It’s taking all my training, throwing it out the window, and we’re just going to kind of hope, focus and go on instinct,” he said on camera before delivering perfect throws. Abrams throws the same way he manages his career, with adjustments, adaptation and instinct. “Practice doesn’t make perfect, it makes permanent,” he says. “Knife-throwing is more about confidence and visualization.” In short, it’s relative.

Even Einstein would have a theory on that. jackdagger.com