Friday, June 15, 2001 | 8:56 a.m.
These guys are brutal.
Joey is teased about his lack of talent, Sammy for being a black/Puerto Rican/Jew with but one good eye and Dean for acting like the town drunk in a rented tux. A showgirl referred to only as "Candy" is passed around like a party prop.
And Frank? No one screws with Frank. He is their leader, and during a 90-minute voyage on a Las Vegas time machine, he's ours, too.
It is 1961, always, at the Sahara's Congo Room and "The Rat Pack is Back" tribute to Frank Sinatra (Steve Lippia), Dean Martin (Rick Michel), Sammy Davis Jr. (Doug Starks) and Joey Bishop (Mark Cohen). The spirited ode to classic tunes, vintage jokes and a macho old-school attitude celebrated its one-year anniversary at the Sahara in March. This week the hotel held a special state-of-the-Pack performance at the 550-seat Conga Room.
Produced by David Cassidy and veteran TV writer Don Reo, the production has been a well-received fixture on the Strip since opening at the Desert Inn in July 1999. It gravitated to the Sahara, where it opened on March 25, 2000, and recently signed a contract extension with the Sahara running through March 31, 2002. The production has been marred by a trademark-infringement lawsuit, still pending, that the Sinatra family filed against the DI three months after the show opened, but recent reports indicate the matter will be settled out of court.
Still, no last names or any likeness of the original Packers are used during the show and in promotional material. No matter. We get the point.
Aside from an overahaul of the original cast, the most recent shift being Starks replacing Tony Tillman as Sammy in February, "The Rat Pack is Back" has hardly been tinkered with since it opened at the DI. The show is set on Dec. 12, 1961, the night of Frank's 46th birthday, and the show is effectively crafted as a typical Rat Pack performance of that era.
Backed by the powerhouse 12-piece Lon Bronson Orchestra, the familiarity of the numbers and crisp execution (particularly by Lippia) are certain to entertain even tepid Rat Pack fans. Blessed with a voice that even former Sinatra musical director Vincent Falcone said was eerily reminiscent of Sinatra's, Lippia easily navigates through such legendary numbers as "Lady is a Tramp," "Luck be a Lady Tonight."
Lippia, who teamed with Falcone and his orchestra as a headliner at the Rio's RioBamba Cabaret in 1998, has always stressed that he's not a Sinatra impressionist. He proves it in "The Rat Pack is Back," reciting his share of the script with a bemused grin but refusing to mimic any of Sinatra's mannerisms or vocal patterns when speaking (as Bobby Barrett does at the MGM's Brown Derby). That approach enables Lippia maintain his independence from the Sinatra role, but also leaves it to Michel, Starks and Cohen to supply "Legends"-like impersonations. They are up to the task.
As Bishop, Cohen draws laughter on several fronts. He's funny-looking and acts goofy, as Bishop did when seemingly attempting to step out of his friends' long shadow. We laugh at the jokes in part because they are genuinely funny, but also because we appreciate the occasional dusted-off classic. Example: Cohen trots out the old joke about the man approaching another man in a casino, asking to borrow money for his sick wife and son. When the man is asked, "How do I know you're not going to go into the casino and gamble it away?" he responds, "Oh, I've got gambling money."
(Take my wife ... please.)
The slight Starks resembles Davis much more than did Tillman and is believable as the ever-willing foil for a cascade of personal barbs flung by his castmates, comments that deride his black/Puerto Rican heritage, lack of size and false eye (how fortunate for the original Rat Pack that so much harsh comedic fodder -- religion, race, even a physical handicap -- was bound in a single member). Starks taps his way into "Black Magic" and recites a line that has been a "Rat Pack is Back" staple since it opened, introducing "Mr. Bonjangles" by reminding the audience that the song "won't be recorded until 1968, but what the heck, we're going to do it anyway."
Michel is a delight in his portrayal of the ostensibly inebriated Martin, swilling his way through "You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Loves You," and "That's Amore" with just the right measure of slur. Michel showed his affable ad-lib skills as well when a for-real drunk brought a drink to the stage and warbled something unintelligible. Employing a bit of a swagger and detectable lilt in his voice, Michel spied the guy with a cocked eyebrow and said, "I'll have what he's having."
That's the mood of the room, and of the show. For a reminder of what it was really like, take in this guilty pleasure. Even once.
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