That Sinking Feeling: Animatronic figures, tireless staff bring Atlantis to life at Forum Shops

Thursday, Feb. 17, 2005 | 8:15 a.m.

They've suffered injuries. Serious injuries. Costly injuries.

They've broken arms, hips, necks and fingers. They've torn their skin and beat themselves. Yet at nearly 10 feet tall, these several-hundred-pound mechanical actors aren't likely to stray from their lot in life.

Like a 19th century sideshow act, their sense of belonging exists within the folly of the stage. Their prison is their womb. They're beholden to and inextricably linked with their caregivers, who work long hours to prep them for show time.

"We're on call 24 hours a day, seven days a week," said Michelle Gresham, director of Entertainment Features at the Forum Shops at Caesars, where the animatronic show depicting the sinking of Atlantis occurs daily every hour on the hour beginning at 10 a.m.

"Some of our days here last past 10 hours," Gresham said. "But we carry the mentality that the show must go on."

Inspired by Plato's story of the lost continent, the show erupts hourly from an otherwise serene, but statuesque, fountain in a mall cul-de-sac, telling the fire-versus-water story of a brother/sister sibling rivalry over control of Atlantis.

But never mind that (and the fact that it's Greek, rather than Roman); the eye-popping pyrotechnics, animatronics, flaming props and rumbling sound effects draw the crowds, peeling visitors from the adjacent 50,000-gallon aquarium and waking those who had been nearby.

"The purpose of the shows at both ends is to draw crowds to the mall because we don't have anchor stores," Gresham said, referring to department stores that typically seal off the ends of malls.

"It makes a huge difference in sales," added Jon Harms, technical adviser for Entertainment Features. "If the show's not working, there's a dip in sales."

Maureen Crampton, director of marketing for the Forum Shops, said roughly 50,000 visitors traipse the Forum Shops daily. A good chunk of these visitors are there to see Atlantis, which was installed in 1997.

"Part of the mastermind of design of the Forum Shops was not only retail and dining, but to add that bonus of entertainment," Crampton said. "Some of our top performers, retailers and restaurants are in that area. That's a very key reason why those retailers selected that area, knowing there is an attraction."

That lovin' feeling

The free attraction comes at a cost: tender, loving animatronic care. Facial gestures and other twitches are controlled by oil hydraulics and air pressure. Methane is pumped in for fire, and steam is used for effect.

When Atlantis sinks (as it has done 30,000 times), all three of the robotic actors are lowered through shafts into the belly of the operation, where Gadrius settles into his perpetual smug look and Alia, who could double as a championship beach volleyball player, casts her blue eyes sternly into the distance.

Here they wait between shows. They're tended to during off hours. Down the hall, the staff makes molds for new heads, arms and other body parts and tests new concepts. An automotive industry manufacturing machine is used to make precision parts, mostly fingers. Props no longer needed are often sunk into the aquarium for decor.

As with any performers, accidents happen. When the 800-pound Atlas, a very old man, broke his hips, the show was closed so staff could operate.

"They're sensitive to everything and it's almost like they have personalities," Gresham said. "The week we try to work on one, another will break."

Pointing to a torn finger on Gadrius, she adds, "All of these pieces come off. Underneath he looks like a robot."

Repairs can be lengthy, which explains the long nights. "It takes four hours to tear out his arm and put it back together," Gresham said.

Harms added, "Sometimes they'll beat themselves up. Gadrius caught himself on fire. They can be clumsy. They can be dangerous. It is creepy at night, his head will turn."

"There's residual pressure, so they twitch," Gresham explained.

Statuesque revelry

The show serves as a popular centerpiece among the Cheesecake Factory, Abercrombie & Fitch and Tourneau Time Store, a 17,500-square-foot watch store.

When the lights dim, Atlas on his throne rises above crowds to tell the story of Atlantis. His daughter Alia follows, pleading with her father for rule of the continent. Brother Gadrius appears last, backing his argument with a flaming sword.

All the while, from the technical director booth overlooking the fall of Atlantis, Ed Pichcuskie, a show technician, watches a live video feed of the characters rising to position.

"I have to make sure he folds his arms before he goes up the tube or he'll rip them off," Gresham said, referring to the often-defiant Gadrius.

There's shouting, more flames and animatrons gesturing with mighty arms. A beast from behind Atlas spans his wings and Atlantis crumbles into irreversible doom, eventually replaced by the serenity of the fountains -- for another hour.

With a master's degree in biology from UNLV, Gresham teaches in a biology lab at the Community College of Southern Nevada and arranges educational tours to the aquarium for students in the Clark County School District, Boy Scouts, tourists and whoever else might be interested (and on some Saturdays she belly dances at Milo's in Boulder City).

Harms has worked at Treasure Island, Universal Studios and Disneyland (where he worked the original characters for the It's a Small World ride). He oversees all technical aspects of the Forum Shops.

The Festival Fountains, where Bacchus, the Roman god of wine and intoxication, celebrates with friendly revelers, falls under Gresham's department, as does the emulated sky above the mall, which turns from day to night.

Bacchus and the other talking statues were installed elsewhere in the mall 13 years ago. When they became outdated, staff considered doing something different with the space, but customer feedback proved that there were purists who were devoted to the old statue show.

Unlike the sinking of Atlantis, the Festival Fountains don't malfunction as frequently, but still have their flaws. Once, Bacchus' head broke off and was hanging by tubes, yet he was still talking. And characters sometimes tell stories they are not wired for.

"It does things they're not even expected to do," Harms said. "One character talks and another character's mouth moves (in sync), but they're not even on the same bank of computers. Lights flicker that aren't even plugged in. It's the ghost of the characters."

Gresham added: "Most of the time you just walk away and say, 'We're not even going to talk about it.' "