Absinthe has been making hearts grow fonder for its regale of raunchy humor, sensual acrobatics and superhuman talents since impresario/host The Gazillionaire set up a spiegeltent in front of Caesars Palace eight years ago. Since then it's strengthened the pipeline for performers of all sorts who look at Las Vegas as the place to prove themselves as world-class entertainers. There's work for roller bladers who spin around each other at top speeds with the audience fully aware one slip could lead to calamity and casualties. Tap-dancing twins have the perfect forum for speed-of-light stepping. Even a gorilla with a crystal-encrusted banana can get a gig if she's talented.
It's a testament to the keen, bloodshot eye of The Gazillionaire, along with the assistance of borderline-deranged co-conspirator Wanda Widdles, that Absinthe somehow always hits the mark when it comes to unconventional entertainment.
Other shows have pole performers, but Widdles went all the way to Australia to find a male pole artist that could understand her suggestive choreography suggestions. The Gazillionaire, in turn, figured, "Why not four poles?" Thus, the sensational Silicon Valley Girls, by way of Ukraine, swung into action, swaying over the crowds on sturdy but bendable metal cylinders.
The show gets its name from the green liqueur that, according to legend, has hallucinogenic properties and fuels the waking dreams of poets and painters. In the opening, a part of the show that is likely to never change, a man downs a dram of absinthe and builds a death-defying chairway to heaven, where the gorgeous Green Fairy sings a siren song as she descends to the center ring.
Now both audience and performers are caught up in the same dream. Acts come from Australia to Eastern Europe, Barcelona to the Big Apple, and points between. Four perfectly developed Russian male acrobats use their heads, limbs, knees and shoulders to build human towers. A couple kiss while suspended in mid-air, with only one holding onto the strap that keeps them from falling to the ground.
Other acts go farther down the unorthodox road. Another strap act involves a tub, a jeans-clad German with a body that Michelangelo could have sculpted and a lot of splashing. A couple with more courage than coordination performs the "Caesarian Ballet" that has been known to cause witnesses to experience post-traumatic stress at the sight of Speedos. Bobo transforms into ravishing Raquel while dancing like an animal during a thematically suitable Nine Inch Nails song.
And then there's The Contest. Only three of the bravest audience members of each show participate. One will triumph, one finds a power she never knew she had and all three lives are changed—for at least a few minutes. Widdles, meanwhile, has a tendency to go on tangential, no-filter monologues, and The Gazillionaire makes an art of dropping vulgarity bombs, the impact of which remain long after the cast of characters revel during the finale and the dreamers slip away into the night.
Caesars Palace, 8 & 10 p.m. daily, $99-$262.50 plus tax and fee, 18+. 800.745.3000 Ticketmaster
