Columnist John Katsilometes’: Las Vegas: Fake and proud of it

Sunday, Sept. 5, 1999 | 10:27 a.m.

John Katsilometes' column appears Tuesdays and Sundays. Reach him at 259-2327 or kats@vegas.com.

Let me take you down, 'cuz I'm going to ... Las Vegas fields. Nothing is real, and nothing to get hung about.

Unreal, surreal and artificial. That's what it is here. Or, as they would say at our newest casino, the Paris Las Vegas, we're oh-so faux. Any non-French-speaking card dealer required to say "bonjour" to every Paris guest would agree.

The bread man at Paris is named Jean-Luc and he's from St. Tropez on the French Riviera. Wait, no he's not. He's really Russ, a stage performer who once played the role of Tommy in the production of "Brigadoon" at the Civic Light Opera in San Jose, Calif., nowhere near France (geographically or culturally). But here, Russ is French.

Paris, like much of the "new" Las Vegas, is stimulating through simulation. We can take a cab to New York and walk through fake neighborhoods blemished (or decorated) with meticulously positioned graffiti. The Statue of Liberty seems genuine enough, like a little sister to the real statue and a nice complement to the sized-down Brooklyn Bridge across the way.

All that's missing from New York-New York is a costumed employee hired to mug people.

Las Vegans can enjoy the trappings of Texas, New Mexico (Sante Fe is just up the road), Arizona (if we dare to hang with the down-and-dirty gang at Charlie's), Italy and the Egyptian pyramids. We've long been home to ancient Rome, with Caesars Palace statues springing to life (or so it seems) as visitors gaze up at fake blue skies.

We can walk over to a knock-off of Rio, where the headliner (until April) is Danny Gans, who has developed quite an act by borrowing the acts of others. Could a tribute to Gans -- a young entertainer mimicking Gans mimicking the likes of George Burns and Stevie Wonder -- be too far off?

Fittingly, replacing Gans at the Rio is David Cassidy, who co-produces "The Rat Pack Is Back" at the Desert Inn, where we can be entertained by the clones of Frank, Dean, Sammy and Joey. Cassidy's show at the Rio is said to be an autobiographical musical depicting his own life, or a tribute to himself.

We still have Elvis performing in Las Vegas, in some cases looking fairly fit for a man who once consumed enough pills on a given day to paralyze an elk. A replica of Liberace, whose appearance eerily mirrors the deceased pianist, is still pleasing Las Vegas audiences.

Entertainers duplicating the look and sound of stars ranging from Rod Stewart to Patsy Cline can always find work in our town. On a recent weekend night Sunset Station was populated with fans wearing KISS makeup for a concert by Hotter Than Hell, a replica KISS act featuring two musicians from the heavy-metal haven of Nashville.

Even our out-of-town guests, in many instances, are not real. Take a gander at the women frequenting the Hard Rock Hotel on a given weekend night and claim, truthfully, the term "silicone" does not enter your mind. Men are equally shameful; some have taken enough muscle-enhancing drugs to resemble Stretch Armstrong wearing a Tommy Hilfiger tank top.

Not that it isn't always an enlightening, entertaining city. As a visitor said while waiting outside a simulated Red Square at Mandalay Bay, "I come here a lot. I love it here."

Not surprisingly, he was wearing a toupee.