Friday, March 04, 2005 Copyright © Las Vegas Review-Journal

SHOW REVIEW: 'Music and Passion'

The 'Passion' of the Manilow: New show doesn't have much to inspire the mildly curious

Barry Manilow is in strong voice and full of energy in his new Las Vegas Hilton showcase that, for better or worse, feels like it could have been there a long time already. Photo by Jeff Scheid.

Barry Manilow never makes it easy for nonbelievers to decide what they think about him.

At one point in his new "Manilow: Music and Passion" show at the Las Vegas Hilton, he emerges on a side stage, decorated as the "Rock Bottom Bar," in a lime green blazer. This serves to illustrate how every entertainer starts somewhere, usually in the lounge.

Then he sang an understated, almost a capella rendition of "Somewhere Down the Road" that came off with taste and sincerity.

But at another point, Manilow sits down at a piano in one of his many normal jackets to "pull out a ballad." He proceeds to offer a version of "Weekend in New England" that piles bombast upon bombast, including an echo chamber to punch up his long, drawn-out note-stretching -- not once, but twice in the same song: "And tell m-e-e-e-e-e ..."

In other words, something you would expect a lounge lizard in a lime green blazer to do.

But the opinion of nonbelievers isn't likely to matter much with Manilow's residency, which will have him in the 1,600-seat theater for 24 weeks over the next 12 months.

"Music and Passion" isn't a drastic departure for Manilow, nor does it demand that we reassess him. For better or worse, it feels like a show from a veteran Las Vegas entertainer that could have been there a long time already.

While another contentious pop icon, Celine Dion, went to some effort to broaden the appeal of her Las Vegas show beyond loyalists, this one may be more like Elvis Presley's final years on the same stage: a necessary pilgrimage for the devout, but nothing to inspire the mildly curious.

Yes, there is production value. But when Manilow does a "Mandy" duet with a giant overhead video of his early-'70s self performing on "The Midnight Special," you realize this isn't "Cirque du Celine" so much as a semi-private party.

If the past 30 years have done anything to put the powder blue heyday of Manilow in perspective, they have extracted his showman's instincts from much of the '70s baggage. His songs were rooted in older traditions than the sequined disco they blended with, while much of the classic rock that seemed so anti-Manilow back then had more similarities behind the guitar chords than we noticed.

While a 90-minute show points out the redundancies in formula ballads such as "Even Now" and "I Write the Songs," it also brings out the Brill Building finesse that rounded out the albums, from the show-tuney "It's A Miracle" and "Daybreak" to the low-key "(Why Don't You) See the Show Again," which he offered on another side stage outfitted as a piano bar.

The singer structures the Hilton show as a salute to Las Vegas entertainers. He teases an original theme song twice before delivering the full-blown "Here's to Las Vegas," a "Chorus Line"-derivative shout-out to "Elvis and Sammy, Dean and Jerry and Frank. They're in our hearts."

And at 58, the voice and enthusiasm are as strong as anyone who still worked Vegas at that age. He's all over that big stage with his four backup singer-dancers and doesn't even let the grand piano stay in one place, thanks to some kind of motorized platform.

At one point, "New York City Rhythm" takes a Latin jazz break while Manilow and his three keyboard players rotate among each other's stations. At another, he dons one of his many jackets -- this one red -- and pretends to trade dance licks with dancer Kye Brackett.

If Manilow has the motions of the classic showman down pat, he may also be too versed in the smarmy patter.

The first couple of quips about people "coming in from all over the place just to see little ol' me" may be construed as self-effacing. But after a few more mentions of the Barry Manilow slot machines, or the Hilton elevators playing "me 24 hours a day," one fears he's just way too into it.

But maybe you are, too. Both the "remix" overture and the big "Copacabana" finale -- a thumping house beat taking Manilow and the singers out over the audience on a riser -- are meant to inform us that this is a celebration of someone who remains as current today as he was in 1976.

If you agree, jump out of your seat and join the party. If not, you might want to skip the confetti and see what other beloved showmen are in town.

A final consumer warning to fans: Have serious doubts about the so-called premium seating that will put you on risers on the far sides of the stage. Yes, Manilow sings one song directly to each group when he's doing the piano bar and "Rock Bottom" bits.

But the first few rows sure seem to be a lot closer to the action for the rest of it, and the $88 difference from a $165.50 orchestra seat is an awful lot for one song. Don't be surprised to see these seats sell for a lot less once the message boards spread the news.