LAS VEGAS: She floated down on a small, neon-lit platform
that descends from the upper reaches of the Caesars Palace Colosseum
to reveal her crooning I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking
For in a shimmering silver and gold gown coated by hundreds
of feathers that also crowned her head.
About two hours later, she departed with a rousing, 30-chorus
rendition of her over-you anthem Believe in a shredded white
rhinestone-encrusted get-up with a headpiece of strings that
fall to the small of her back.
And in between, Cher opened her 200-show, three-year run in
the Strip's most prestigious theater by serving generous helpings
of her multi-era hits in that distinctly nasally, low rumble
of a belting voice punctuated by large doses of the ultimate
chameleon's nostalgia. The show is already in such high demand
that her first four-week run is sold out and additional dates
have been added to her next round in August.
Premiere night was a low-wattage event, with a more formal,
star-studded official opening to come later this month. Cher's
children, Chastity Bono and Elijah Blue Allman, attended, as
did Las Vegas Hilton headliner Barry Manilow and retired Vegas
illusionists Siegfried Fischbacher and Roy Horn.
Instead, the Colosseum was filled with folks like Roni Heinze,
60, and her niece, Kim Alexander, 50, of Seattle, who wore black
T-shirts decorated with scanned images of Cher in various looks
as well as their ticket stubs from the more than 15 Cher concerts
they'd seen. The duo already have tickets to see Cher six times
at Caesars, including Wednesday's second-night show, two shows
later this month around Cher's 62nd birthday on May 20 and two
more in August when she's back.
"She's just the greatest," said Heinze, who with Alexander
had spent $1,500 on this two-night trip. "It's a small price
to pay."
On stage, Cher greeted her audience warmly if nervously.
"You guys are first-nighters, so you'll be the first kids
on your block to see this," she confided to the sold-out crowd
of 4,000 in the theater made famous by Celine Dion and co-occupied
these days by Bette Midler and Elton John. "We have things that
are so unbelievable — if they work!"
By and large, everything did, although the show ran nearly
two hours and is expected to be shorn to a Vegas-standard 90
minutes. Cher barreled with great energy through I Found Someone,
All Or Nothing and Love Is A Battlefield, and slowed down appropriately
for ballads Love Hurts and Walking in Memphis. A highlight came
with the love song After All, for which she arrived on stage
standing in a boat wearing a gray, body-length, fur-collared
robe and a pointy silver cap standing in a boat. In all, she
sang about 17 songs live; at least three were presented entirely
in videos during costume changes.
That said, though, Cher's show is far more a straight-up concert
than what her counterparts have done with the vast room.
Her band is prominently stationed on the stage throughout,
the performer herself leaned over to high-five audience members
as she rocked through Song For The Lonely and the show does
not build theatrical stories around the songs. At the end, after
she sauntered around the stage in the skin-baring black outfit
and big black wig associated with her hit If I Could Turn Back
Time, the audience is forced to applaud for almost five minutes
before she does the predictable encore of Believe. Dion, Midler
and John don't do encores.
Indeed, the concert-like sensibility led to some confused
expectations. Groups of fans, upon hearing the first strains
of If I Could Turn Back Time, raced to the front and into the
aisles to dance, only to be directed back to their seats. And,
while fan-pleasing, this production borrowed heavily from features
from a variety of tours while throwing in such dashes of Vegas
elements as aerialists and acrobats doing some sequences also
seen in specific Cirque du Soleil shows at neighboring hotels.
Ultimately, the factor driving the ebb and flow here was not
the music or Cher's personality but her 15 or so costume changes,
usually occurring after just one or two songs at a time. The
production felt like a Cher-scored Bob Mackie fashion show,
with Cher disappearing repeatedly for minutes at a time to change
into yet another outlandish get-up of sequins, rhinestones and
bizarre headpieces that also showed plenty of skin.
The repeated use of video montages, mostly from her Sonny and
Cher days, and lengthy Cher-less dance routines that included
a rendition of YMCA complete with Village People impersonators
to encouraging the audience to play along, prompted grumbles
from audience members who had paid in many cases more than $300
a seat. (An obvious vertical tear in one of the gigantic screens
was also distracting.)
But the emphasis on Cher's trademark fashion sense didn't
bother Naomi Ryan, 33, of Chicago, who toted with her a decorated
sailor's cap to toss on stage during If I Could Turn Back Time,
a Cher concert tradition ever since her 1989 video in which
the singer dons one on the deck of the USS Missouri.
"There has to be somebody among us who can wear those things,
say those things, be that fearless woman," said Ryan as she
looked at one of the six Mackie dresses displayed in glass cases
outside the theater. "She does things people like me can't.
And I love her for that."
