Bleeding Neon

It’s odd that I don’t go to more comedy shows. Comedy in all forms — sketches, stand-up, parody — is actually one of my favorite things. I spend hours watching clips online of all of the above, I’ve been known to rent/own the occasional stand-up DVD, but I think in my entire life I’ve seen less than a dozen live comedy shows. And most of those, let’s be honest, have been media comps over the last five or six years.

Such was last night’s visit to Brad Garrett’s Comedy Club at the Tropicana, a space with which I’m pretty familiar, because for years before the gargantuan funnyman’s name adorned its marquee, it was known as the Comedy Stop (which recently moved south on the Strip to the Sahara). The revamped club opened just this week, with Garrett as the first headliner. Not much has been done to the space, which retains its old-school Vegas adornments — dark wood, sight line-blocking pillars, giant, ornate chandeliers — though rumor has it Garrett had the ceiling above the stage raised to accommodate his 6-foot-8-inch frame. Though he’ll obviously not be in the club all the time, it’s the only place in Vegas to see the Emmy-winning comedian for the next two years.

Last night’s show was pretty good, the room packed with a mix of paid attendees and invited guests, including poker star Annie Duke, a friend of the poker-loving Garrett. But she was about the only person immune to Garrett’s roasting of the crowd, from the unfortunate folks seated front row to the ubiquitous Robin Leach, who, unbeknown to Garrett, threw quite the temper tantrum when his party arrived late to the club to find their seats unavailable. To be fair, we arrived a few minutes before showtime and already there were almost no seats left, but we didn’t have an entourage of questionably sourced young blonde vixens, nor a grating English accent with which to berate the Tropicana’s president.

But despite that nonsense, a good time was had by all, as evidenced by the nonstop, riotous laughter throughout the room. Garrett, humorously mean the whole while, took out the time to answer audience questions after his set, encouraging an interactivity that really made the whole night feel more like a big roast for good friends rather than just a trip to the local comedy club.

One major complaint — and this may be sorted out after the Tropicana’s extensive transformation into a South Beach-style resort is complete — is that Garrett’s club is damn hard to find, hidden behind a labyrinthine series of executive offices, salons and hallways on the casino’s upper level. Signage is iffy and vague, and even though I’ve been to the club a few times before, it was still disorienting to say the least. But maybe that’s part of the charm, the last vestige of that Vegas “insider” feeling guests boasted back in the “old days.” Or maybe Garrett and his rotating lineup of wise guys just want to make the yucks at the end of the journey worth all that much more.

Like the rest of America this weekend, I ventured to my local cineplex to catch a showing of that quaint indie flick everyone’s talking about, Iron Man 2. As you probably know, I don’t really like reviewing things, but I have been trying to figure out why the first Iron Man film was so much better than this sequel – or at least why I enjoyed the original more – and in the process, started making lists in my head of the things I liked and didn’t. Now you get to share in that process:

Pj’s Four Favorite Things About Iron Man 2

1. Suitcase armor – Well, duh. Even if you haven’t seen the movie, you’ve probably seen the scene where Tony Stark’s armor forms around him from a red-and-silver suitcase – a very comic book moment. How can you not love that?
2. Captain America’s shield – Clever moment tying together Stark’s father to the iconic patriotic superhero, amusingly punctuated by S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Phil Coulson asking Tony if he knows what the shield is even as Tony’s using it to prop up a steel conduit.
3. Black Widow in action – Really, it’s not just because Scarlett Johansson is in a skin-tight suit. While her take-down of Happy Hogan in the boxing ring earlier in the film was amusing, Natasha finally getting to cut loose by taking out an entire building’s worth of armed security forces single-handedly was brilliantly choreographed and just plain awesome.
4. Final battle – I guess if you’re still reading, you know this post has been a little spoiler-ish, but I’ll still try to not give away too much. But I think I’m safe by saying Rhodey and Tony teaming up to kick the metal arses of dozens of robot drones and a vodka-fueled Mickey Rourke in giant armor was a goddamn delight.

Pj’s Four Least-Favorite Things About Iron Man 2

1. Drunk party scene – While not nearly as bad as the “evil Peter Parker singing-and-dancing” scene from Spider-Man 3, Tony Stark stumbling around and pissing himself in the Iron Man suit was just … ingratiating. I get that it’s there to establish his frame of mind and Rhodes’ obtaining of the armor, but it was just ludicrous and over the top, DJ AM’s (R.I.P.) appearance notwithstanding.
2. Justin Hammer – I love Sam Rockwell. I love every character he’s every played. He was brilliant carrying Moon as a one-man tour-de-force. But combined with scenes such as the aforementioned drunk Iron Man debacle, Rockwell’s over-the-top performance as a moustache-twirling “evil” CEO detracted from the realism that anchored the first film and enabled it to be pure awesome. Robert Downey, Jr.’s Tony Stark is already glib and showy – having a buffoon attempt to one-up that so obviously just didn’t work for me. Especially the scene where Hammer awaits Ivan Vanko’s deplaning with a gourmet meal inside an airplane bunker. It was camp, plain and simple.
3. Randy’s Donuts meeting with Nick Fury – You’ve seen the snippet from this, right? Where Tony’s armored up, sitting inside the iconic giant donut, eating donuts when S.H.I.E.L.D. director Nick Fury shows up to chastise him? That was clever. But taking the scene inside the donut shop for Natalie/Natasha’s reveal as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was amateur hour. I mean, here’s this top-secret espionage organization having a meeting in a public place with everyone in their silly costumes.
4. Length – The Randy’s Donuts and Stark birthday party scenes – along with many other iffy moments – give Iron Man 2 the feeling of a film that crammed in a lot of scenes that sounded cool on paper but should have been left on the cutting room floor, making the film leaner and meaner. And less damn silly.

Overall, I enjoyed it. It was enjoyable. But it felt very full of itself, like director Jon Favreau got a little cocky following the success of Iron Man and just went balls out with everything he could. And really, you can’t blame the guy for trying, but if there’s to be a third film – and after Iron Man 2 hauled in $133 million in three days, does anyone think there won’t be? – Favreau (and writer Justin Theroux) would do well to trim the fat and avoid the mistakes of other superhero film franchises such as X-Men and Spider-Man (both of which were bloated and nonsensical by their third installments).

Film producers put out dozens of films. But rarely are their works compared to each other, or expected to live up to a standard established by its predecessor. So why do we do that with Cirque du Soleil shows, specifically their Las Vegas creations?

Oh, sure, the first wave of original, non-linear, mega-circus productions such as Mystère and O feature trademark vibrant costumes, mind-blowing artistry and awe-inspiring sets, all wrapped in a sense of whimsy and wonder orchestrated by their creator, director Franco Dragone. Dragone left Cirque to form his own entertainment group, and since then, the company’s subsequent shows (such as Kà and Zumanity) have diverged from what the general public perceives as the established Cirque status quo, when in fact, they’ve diverged from the Dragone standard.

Since then, Cirque has entered into collaborations for its Vegas shows that have been of, well, questionable success. With The Beatles LOVE, the company produced a much-loved, critically lauded show that even spawned a Grammy-winning soundtrack album. That show stays true to the “traditional” spirit of Cirque du Soleil, never letting either the vague biographical story of the Beatles or the circus performances feel forced. Of course, maybe the Beatles’ eclectic music was always destined for the circus.

On the other hand, Criss Angel: Believe has been … less enthusiastically received. Blame the lack of magic, blame the creepy rabbits, blame Criss Angel’s own lack of charisma and general douchebaggery — whatever it is, Believe proves that not everything graced by the Cirque du Soleil name turns to gold. Or even bronze.

Hence, we come to Cirque’s latest collaboration, Viva ELVIS, which — in case you couldn’t figure it out or have been held hostage from the internet lately — loosely tells the story of Elvis Presley’s life through song, dance and trampoline tricks. On its own, ignoring the Cirque du Soleil name, Viva ELVIS is an adequate, enjoyable musical, featuring an integrated, energetic live band performing along with Elvis’ vocal tracks, enhanced by live singers. It’s a whitewashing of Elvis’ career, of course, leaving out all the ugly parts about drug addiction, affairs and, oh yeah, getting fat and dying. And it’s narrated by an actor portraying Colonel Tom Parker, Elvis’ notoriously manipulative and corrupt manager who, here, appears as a genial carnival barker.

So what makes it a Cirque show? There are kitschy, giant set pieces, such as a blue suede shoe, a guitar and a wedding cake, and acrobats performing feats of derring-do upon them. There is a fun but totally out-of-context trampoline segment. There are aerialists and colorful costumes and creepy plastic Elvis wigs. But unlike The Beatles LOVE — and yes, I’m going to compare here, because these are both Cirque-spawned shows based on the music and lives of giant rock stars — Viva ELVIS lacks that, well, certain je ne sais quoi that makes LOVE so fantastic. There’s no emotional investment. No build-up. No surprises or small, touching moments. It’s just all flashy showmanship, all the time, and even then, some scenes went on too long and could not maintain entertainment value.

Viva ELVIS feels more like the Broadway version of Hairspray, if you removed characters for whom we care about, a storyline we can follow or a genuine feeling of nostalgia. If you just purely love Elvis’ music, and dig musical theater, it may be right up your alley. But if you’re expecting the otherworldly, transcendental experience of earlier Cirque shows, your money’s best spent on a discounted ticket to Mystère.

Yes.

Muse + Silversun Pickups, April 10, Mandalay Bay Events Center.

Consider my mind blown.

I’ve been an unabashed fan of She Wants Revenge from the first moment I heard “Tear You Apart” almost four years ago. Oh, sure, the band (really a duo — Justin Warfield and Adam “DJ Adam 12″ Bravin — expanded live to a quartet) copiously borrowed sonically from Joy Division, New Order and Depeche Mode, but Justin and Adam put such a fresh, dance floor-ready spin on it, that the aping was just fine. I gobbled up the “These Things” EP, then the self-titled full-length, then the eagerly-awaited follow-up, “This is Forever,” and ultimately the band’s last EP, “Save Your Soul.”

Those albums form a fairly cohesive aural snapshot of the band’s first four years, staying close to the darkwave groove first unleashed upon hipster bars of the world in 2005, sometimes adding more subtle textures, sometimes getting more funky, but generally keeping alive the flames of Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees and their ’80s counterparts. But with the release of “Up and Down,” She Wants Revenge puts that all in the past.

Welcome to She Wants Revenge 2.0.

Adam (I’m eschewing the formality of last names here as Adam is someone I’d consider a fair acquaintance, and let that be my full disclosure) has been hinting — OK, overtly broadcasting — on Twitter for the last few months that SWR has been making music by which to have sex. He wasn’t exaggerating. He and Justin have almost completely shed their ’80s postpunk sound (save for the EP’s instrumental, “Love Me”) for something entirely contemporary. From the opening, booming pulse of “Your Love” to the whiplash synths of “A Little Bit Harder Now,” SWR has found the place where Justin Timberlake meets Prince meets The Faint.

Justin’s distinctive robotic baritone and visual storytelling is still intact, but it’s been accented by raps hearkening back to his MC days (remember Bomb the Bass’ “Bug Powder Dust?”). As well, the duo is joined by new discovery ZinaStar on “All Wound Up,” where she delivers a Pussycat Dolls-style verse as well as background vocals.

The more goth-inclined members of SWR’s fan base might be put off by the suddenly mainstream club-friendly sound, but if they’re not able to grow with the band, then they’re missing out. This is pure ass-shaking ear candy you can enjoy without feeling guilty. And it’s made by two dudes who, I can confirm, are real people, writing their own music, playing in a real band that plays real venues. And they’re doing it all without the support of a major record label, so that $5 you should drop on iTunes today for “Up and Down” is money well spent.