Tribute to Marilyn Monroe doesn’t blow our skirts up

Friday, Jan. 28, 2005 | 8:40 a.m.

Four walling should be outlawed.

It is an abomination. A sin in Sin City. An effort to squeeze blood out of turnips.

The concept is that the owner of a showroom -- usually a hotel (such as the Riviera) -- leases the space (such as Le Bistro Theatre) to a second party (such as Marlene Ricci) who then subleases it to one or more third parties (such Roxanna Bonilla-Giannini, a Marilyn Monroe tribute artist).

The second party is responsible for all bills incurred -- including advertising and other costs.

Those costs are passed along to the third parties.

This arrangement is great for the hotels -- they get paid no matter what; they aren't out any expenses and they receive the benefit of free advertising (after all, the artists/tenants have to tell their fans where they can be found).

But it sucks for the entertainers and fans.

In the past there were certain standards when bringing a performer into a showroom -- the entertainer at least had to be good enough to impress an entertainment director.

Perhaps that was not the best system, but at least it was a first line of defense in protecting us against mediocrity.

Today, the first line seems to be the bottom line -- whether a performer has the money to pay for the room. Talent has become a secondary issue.

Sometimes this works out well. Jay White, who performs a tribute to Neil Diamond at Le Bistro, is a case in point. He has a lot of talent and generally is able to fill the small room, which seats fewer than 200.

But a good example of what is bad about four walling is "An Evening With Marilyn."

It's unlikely that the producers of the show could have convinced any entertainment director in Las Vegas to pay them for the production.

Giannini (daughter of an Italian mother and French / Spanish father) is a gorgeous actress / singer who is buxom and sensual and has traits of Brigitte Bardot and Mariel Hemingway, but her talents are misplaced in this misguided evening.

"Marilyn" has been at Le Bistro for about a month, drawing scant attention.

It closes Saturday. If you want to experience for yourself the pitfalls of four walling, go see it before it disappears.

One of the biggest problems with this production is the subject matter -- Marilyn Monroe, who died of a drug overdose in 1962.

She was a celebrity, a star in films, a pinup girl, not really a cabaret entertainer. Marilyn couldn't sing (but for "Happy Birthday to You" to John F. Kennedy) and wasn't much of a dancer. She was a personality who could act a little.

So how can you make an entertaining evening out of someone who wasn't particularly entertaining?

You can't; at least this show can't. There is very little entertaining about "An Evening with Marilyn."

It comes off as a seminar, a lecture recounting the life of a celebrity from the '50s who led such a public life that most of us already know all the details (her marriage to Joe DiMaggio; her affair with Kennedy, etc.).

Those who aren't familiar with the details probably don't care enough about them to attend this forum.

"Marilyn" opens with a slide show of Monroe's years in Hollywood.

Giannini then comes out and begins her dissertation, which isn't always linear -- sometimes jumping around the decade for no apparent reason.

As she talks about Monroe's life, Giannini steps up onto a small platform (not too gracefully) and a fan blows, causing her white dress to billow, recreating the memorable scene from 1955's "The Seven Year Itch."

It is the most exciting moment of the show. If the producers are determined to keep this production alive, they should keep the scene, throw everything else out and start over.

When properly made up, Giannini makes for a passable Monroe. And when she speaks and sings, she doesn't do a bad job recreating the breathy voice of the star of such films as "Some Like it Hot" (1959) and "The Misfits" (1961). The only problem is that from time to time her European accent slips into the monologue.

There isn't much energy in the show, and no surprises.

But in a four-wall arrangement, you get what the entertainer pays for.