‘Ice’ should be a cool respite, but it’s really no treat

By Joe Brown

Monday, July 6, 2009 | 2 a.m.

What could be more precious in a desert city in the summer than ice? Glittering, clear, cooling, clinking ice.

You would think that a show called “Ice” would be popular among Las Vegas locals. After just a few days of triple-digit temperatures, many of us would line up to see a musical called “Air Conditioning.”

But there’s a reason you probably don’t know anyone who has seen “Ice,” which is subtitled “The Show From Russia,” an ice-skating revue now in its second year at the Riviera.

The title promises an alluring frozen treat, but “Ice” is a faux “O” — on the rocks. It’s hands-down the strangest show I’ve seen on the Strip. And I’ve seen “Freaks” at O’Sheas.

“Ice” begins promisingly enough, with the novelty of an iced-over catwalk surrounding the orchestra seating: The skaters swirl and slash and shuush around this segment of the crowd, and if you’re seated nearby, you’re likely to get sprayed with ice chips.

It’s always a thrill to witness expert figure skaters, and as the “Ice” capaders are mere feet away, the excitement is amplified. Though the relatively tiny rink keeps the repertoire somewhat constrained, the skaters manage to work up some real speed and execute some dangerous-looking lifts and lunges and death spirals.

They do just about everything you can think of to do on ice, short of making everyone free smoothies:

There are balancing acts and juggling on skates.

Stilt-skates and handstand-skates.

A unicycle act on skates. And then a sensual unicycle act on skates.

Any momentum generated by the skating segments comes to a skidding halt with the tedious clowning segments involving three violinists, who, when they speak, bicker in Russian. After executing a stunt, the performers frequently stare unsmilingly at the audience, apparently the Russian way of indicating it’s time to applaud.

Outre outfits are de rigueur in an ice-skating show, and “Ice” delivers with velvet pants and Mylar tights, fur hats and capelets with scarlet linings and sheer lacy shirts for men and women. The cast of 20 or so Russian imports are attractive, athletic and talented — the romantically long-maned men look like the frosty Fabios, and the gorgeous women bring to mind steely-eyed lethal operatives, who will either kill you or be delivered to your room in 20 minutes. Skaters of both genders deliver plenty of tempestuous hair-tossing.

The skating and clowning are set to very loud recorded music, a dated jumble of Euro-discoid world music, like a mid-’80s mix tape found in a box in your garage. But there are jarring selections, like the pas de deux set to the Blue Nile’s bleary, languorous 1989 hit “Let’s Go Out Tonight,” and most incongruous, a woman shimmying within a supersized Slinky of more than a dozen silvery Hula Hoops to Janis Joplin wailing “Summertime.” The music is augmented by a live trumpeter, who occasionally gets pulled into the action.

Near the show’s end, two of the skaters turn a ponderous prop on its side — it’s either a giant silver goblet or an oversized hockey championship cup — to reveal the words “Free Yourself.” Could this be a political statement? A plea for asylum?

All this would be diverting and amusing enough — if you got comped or discounted tickets. But the price of admission to this unsatisfying 70-minute show is listed as starting at $92.45 on the Riviera’s Web site. I was approached afterward by a chagrined-looking Japanese tourist who wanted to know how much I had paid for my ticket. It turned out she had paid more than $90 in her tour package “deal.”

Uncool.

So I wouldn’t recommend “Ice,” unless you’re seeing it for free. And even then there are plenty of cooler things to do around here. For starters: A frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity 3 ($8.50). A margarita in a three-foot plastic drink bong ($12-15). A vodka cocktail in the Minus 5 ice bar at Mandalay Bay ($30).