Nothing forbidden about Westin’s satirical production

Friday, Jan. 21, 2005 | 8:40 a.m.

"Forbidden Vegas" is a wonderfully funny satire that deserves to succeed in the Ego Capital of the World.

There is so much to poke fun at here it isn't funny.

This musical comedy, like its twin "Forbidden Broadway" in New York, skewers all things sacred with its sharp wit, keen eye for the absurd and catchy tunes.

At times the satire borders on the sardonic, some might say malicious or even vicious. Is it cruel to point out that Wayne Newton has lost his singing voice? Or that Celine Dion may seem a little quirky ("... I'm a hit and I'm just a bit deeeeeranged ...")?

Writers Pete Blue and Gerard Alessandrini (who also is the creator and director) obviously spent some time researching the icons and sacred cows of Las Vegas. Not only is what they write funny, it is insightful.

But truly rabid fans might be put off by having their favorite performer demeaned, no matter how cleverly written the script is.

Wayniacs don't seem to mind that the Wayner has lost his voice. They flock to his shows like lemmings regardless. Will they be outraged by a hilarious bit in which an actor performs a medley of Newton's hits covering three decades -- each time singing "Danke Schoen"?

While the humor may have crossed the boundaries of taste a couple of times, taste and Vegas often are described as mutually exclusive terms.

Besides, this is an avant-garde show that goes against the mainstream. It should be allowed a certain amount of latitude in the taste department.

The writing is at its best when it spoofs individual performers rather than the various hotels. In one stretch there is a salvo of jokes fired at the Excalibur, Imperial Palace, Mandalay Bay ("How come no one told me there was no bay in Mandalay?"), Paris, Luxor, Venetian and New York-New York.

The 250-seat theater at the Westin, on East Flamingo Road a couple of blocks east of the Strip, is a perfect size for a show of this nature. It is intimate and off the beaten path, adding to the anti-establishment air.

It shows that you don't have to be in a $100 million theater to be entertaining.

The production is simple. The small stage is bare except for a grand piano and one or two microphone stands.

A great deal of work went into the costumes, created by one of Broadway's great designers, Alvin Colt.

The cast is composed of four talented performers who are provided great material. Michael West, Carter Calvert, Valerie Fagan and Eric Lee Johnson shine in the limelight.

While the production should survive on its own merits, merit isn't everything.

What crossed my mind as I was watching the bloodletting is whether tourists will comprehend many of the jokes that skewer such Vegas performers as Danny Gans, Celine (who is the writers' favorite target), Rita Rudner, Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme, Tom Jones ("This is where I invite you to throw up your panties and room keys") and Frank Sinatra ("I can't believe this is the Vegas I created; this Las Vegas is a fright").

Not all visitors have seen all the shows or visited all the casinos. For that matter, how many locals have actually seen the shows that are lambasted by the talented troupe?

Gans goes out of his way to bring in local audiences, but Celine's stratospheric price tag probably puts her out of reach of the average Las Vegan. Her audience is more national and international.

Many of the subjects are universally known, but some of them barely have a connection to Vegas.

Barbra Streisand hasn't performed in Vegas since New Year's Eve 1999, and rarely before that.

One bit included Marlene Dietrich, one of the first mega-stars to perform here, but that was 50 years ago. Today's young adults probably don't know anything about her celebrity status.

Liberace, one of Vegas' most-revered performers of the past, has been dead for 18 years, and memory of him is fading fast for a segment of the population.

Cher doesn't appear here regularly, but a lot of time was devoted to her.

Perhaps figures with scant Vegas connections broaden the base of audiences who will understand the humor, but is it enough?

Is it a flaw that the jokes may not be comprehended by everyone in the audience? And if it is a flaw, is it a fatal flaw?

If so, then this comedy would become a tragedy.

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