Master of silence has much to say

Adrienne Packer

Friday, Sept. 10, 1999 | 11:24 a.m.

His hands constantly slicing through the air and his facial expressions altering as quickly, one might believe the world-famous pantomime Marcel Marceau could tell any tale without a word.

But given the opportunity, the diminutive Frenchman who for a half-century has awed audiences around the globe with his silent acts loves to speak.

The first question has yet to be posed and Marceau, in his gentle voice and rapid pace, launches into stories about his early years and finally about how he has kept what otherwise would be an obscure art form in the spotlight.

The fact that Marceau is 76 years old doesn't slow him. He won't let it.

"If I didn't have the same intensity every time I went out there, the public would notice," said Marceau, who is performing throughout the weekend at the new Paris Las Vegas. "I play like it is the first time of my life every night."

Marceau continually sells out shows throughout the country. And although he doesn't like to settle for the same routines he has acted out throughout the years, audiences have their favorites.

Marceau, for example, might not get away with leaving his 50-year-old Bip the clown routine out of a show. In his trademark striped pullover, Marceau's most famous character battles sea-sickness and watches his dating service call turn into a fiasco.

"They capture people's imagination," Marceau said. "Nothing is there. You can bring to people the emotions of life -- laughing and crying -- without ever speaking."

Marceau has had speaking roles in films. In the 1970s, ironically, he had the only speaking part in Mel Brooks' "Silent Movie." Brooks' character, looking for a mime for his movie, approaches Marceau, whose line is: "No!"

Marceau and the Las Vegas Strip seem like a mismatch; it's like putting Wayne Newton in the Lunt-Fontanne Theater in New York City.

His act requires an audience hungry for theater, not entertainment. But Marceau said successful Strip performances in the early 1990s convinced him that the new and improved Las Vegas isn't necessarily all about entertainment.

"Entertainment has to be flashy with loud booms and music," Marceau said. "What I do has deep roots in theater. Never will I say I'm superior to entertainment; it's different. It's good in Las Vegas that the theater enters. Maybe the public will come see plays too."

Marceau realizes that his success is the reason mimes line tourist corridors luring crowds and occasionally collecting some spare change. But he doesn't believe the mimic mimes cheapen his art.

"You can't just put on a white face and touch a wall and believe you're touching the public; you have to study the art of mime," he said. "Imitators are imitators and mimes are mimes."

And Las Vegas is Las Vegas.

Just outside his dressing room door, a hotel-hired mime threw himself onto the lobby floor drawing looks of shock from guests.

Inside the theater, a couple of tipsy men who had secured front-row seats swilled beer until the lights dimmed. Then they dozed off and snored before Marceau could even take the stage.

Despite Marceau's optimism, its unclear whether a town known for the famous Siegfried and Roy's ability to makes things disappear, is prepared for a man who has built his reputation on making objects that don't exist appear.

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