At Caesars Palace, ‘Absinthe’ pushes adult circus to the present tents

By John Katsilometes

Saturday, April 2, 2011 | 5:31 p.m.

There was ample, enthusiastic prattle centering on the new show “Absinthe” at the show’s after-party at the Spiegelworld Beer Garden at Caesars Palace on Friday night.

Most guests seemed to enjoy the performance to the point of abject astonishment, agreeing that this is one of the more inventive and daring shows to open on the Strip in years. But a few others weren’t so taken. One contradict-arian who had just seen the R-rated circus production asked, “How do you promote this?”

The answer, or course, is, “Who cares?”

“Absinthe” is Cirque du Soleil on ’shrooms. Promote it that way. It’s a show for grownups who are smart but appreciate dumb humor if it’s delivered effectively by a lead character who seems to have an anaconda stuffed down his pants. He wears a gold-trimmed tux and shoes to match, the look one would sport for the prom at Disco High. This prominently beaked man is The Gazillionaire, an elongated maestro whose appearance hints to the Brother of Borat and whose material reminds of the best of Robin Williams.

“We have everyone here!” cries The Gazillionaire. “We have the gays seated next to the Republicans! Very good! You like the crotch? How about a closer look.” Then it’s an insistent pelvic thrust borrowed from Tom Jones. At one point during Friday’s opener, UFC star Frank Mir was summoned onstage. That he soon found himself shirtless and was grabbed in the groin by a female volunteer from the audience was not exactly a shock, as The Gazillionaire goaded her to perform just that act.

The Gazillionaire is billed as the show’s producer, and he might be the evil fraternal twin of BASE Entertainment co-producer Scott Zeiger, whose company had the vision to bring the bedraggled carnival to the open courtyard at the front of Caesars. As Zeiger noted after the show, there was little use or even point of the vast expanse between Serendipity 3 and the hotel’s front entrance. Why not recruit Spiegelworld and its collection of wildly talented circus misfits to the heart of the Strip? The cost is $69 per ticket, $100 for the full Beer Garden/VIP treatment, a good measure less than the top shows in Vegas.

The show is enshrouded in an attraction unto itself, one of the famed, 19th century-styled Spiegeltents. The temporary pavilion has been latched together without a single nail, yet carries a quite permanent feel. The venue has been assembled in the round and deceptively seats 654 audience members in the sort of folding chairs you’d find at an outdoor wedding.

The Beer Garden leading to the tent’s entrance has something of a county fair feel to it, if that fair were in Alice in Wonderland County. Baby’s Badass Burgers are prepared on an open grill (or, will be, once the slider truck passes health inspection). Laid out are such games as shuffleboard and beanbag toss. A fake phone booth is in fact a doorway leading to a tucked-away, open-air tavern. It’s so cool, one of the production’s many instances where Spiegelworld’s self-dubbed impresario Ross Mollison has not given way to accepted methods.

The performance itself twists the acts you’d see in a traditional circus, with burlesque and vaudevillian delights sprinkled about. Trapeze artists in lacy undergarments soar from the middle of a room that often appears dangerously small for such high-arching acts. Penny, Gazillionaire’s trusted assistant (and a performer who provides her own rim shots), performs a fairly convincing sex scene with sock puppets. Gazillionaire finally halts her when she excitedly delves into sodomy with the little sock figures.

Later, a woman in a green gown -- The Green Fairy, she’s called -- carries a giant, inflated pink balloon onstage, strips to a green G-string and slips inside. Then … pop!

Gazillionaire’s two “bodyguards” take the stage in suits and shades as he says, “Here is something I hope doesn’t suck!” They perform the body contortion that is the very core of Cirque-styled productions, but at close range, you can feel the physical effort required to make this scene look so effortless.

The show closes with the Esteemed Gentlemen on a High Wire. Three guys, of varying sizes and cultures (“You’ll know it is over when the Chinese guy reaches the end,” as The Gazillionaire blithely explains), perform a low-wire act several feet above the stage. All are in black suits. As the song “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother” plays on the Spiegeltent sound system, one Gentleman carries another on his shoulders while gently walking the tightrope. Ahead is the third member of the troupe. Then the guy on the shoulders leaps shortly to the one in front, and the thick cord bends from the weight. Again, the tent’s tight quarters provided added suspense to an act that is usually played far higher.

But the best moment in the show, and I mean by a lot, I won’t spoil. It’s one of the more breathtaking pieces you’ll see on a Vegas stage, or any stage. It defies gravity. It defies sanity. It’s simple but daring and leaves you with the chills.

You’ll know it when you see it, and to do that, you’ll have to see “Absinthe.” In this or any other circus, there’s no better promotion.

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