In my household in the 1970s, there were certain shows that were appointment television for my entire family. One of them was definitely Donny and Marie, a variety show that probably seems extremely quaint and dated by today’s standards, but at the time it was irresistible entertainment. It had all the usual elements of variety shows of the period: Guest stars, crazy costumes, plenty of dad jokes and very hokey dancing. But what really made this one stand out among the rest was the relationship the star siblings had with their audience, both in the studio and in living rooms across America. Their charisma, combined with their back-and-forth banter, made you feel like a member of their family. For an hour, you felt like you were hanging out with a friend.
That’s the exact same dynamic of Donny Osmond’s current solo show on the Las Vegas Strip. No longer is he performing with his sister, so the back-and-forth banter is gone, but he more than makes up for the omission with a slew of additions. And he manages to condense a career spanning more than 50 years into just a little under an hour and a half—no small feat when you consider everything this master showman has achieved.
Osmond is ably assisted onstage by talented backup dancers, while video screens complement all the memories he revisits. The production also includes a movable platform and plenty of costume changes.
You’ll hear all about his years performing with his siblings and appearing on shows like Andy Williams’; you’ll take a detour into some of his movie work, most notably Mulan, which comes complete with a production number; you’ll take an impromptu journey through his more than 60(!) records as Osmond fields audience requests—name a song, and he’ll do his darnedest to remember how it goes (it doesn’t always work, which is part of the fun).
But the undeniable highlight of this show is Osmond’s auto-rap-ography, a nearly 10-minute number in which the star rarely seems to take a breath, blazing his way through every small detail of his life, from his appearances on such reality shows as The Masked Singer and Dancing With the Stars to his foray into his 1980s pop persona and so much more. It’s exhausting. It’s funny. It’s simply brilliant.
The song selection alone is dizzying. Osmond performs no fewer than 20 songs, some his own and some covers to pay tribute to the special people in his life (“Moon River” for Andy Williams and “In My Life” during a very touching tribute to his sister).
Fans of his ’70s work will probably get goosebumps during a segment where he breaks out the white, bedazzled jacket for a spirited performance of “One Bad Apple,” accompanied by, well, not his brothers. But who really cares? For three minutes, you’re a kid again. Does it matter how it happens?
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