The veteran comedians of "Bottoms Up" crack each other up, and older audiences, too. From left, David Harris, Breck Wall and Sue Motsinger. Photo by Craig L. Moran.

What seemed lost on the Strip seems found downtown.

The 42-year-old "Bottoms Up" revue, a genuine artifact by Las Vegas standards, seemed like it finally was ready to ride off into the sunset when it closed at the Flamingo two years ago this week.

The resilient show cropped up every few years and had a good four-year run at the Flamingo. But this time, really and truly, it appeared Las Vegas had evolved beyond the blackout-comedy show that first played the Castaways (where The Mirage now stands) in 1964.

But creator Breck Wall didn't give up so easily. "Bottoms Up" has resurfaced in the enclosed lounge at Fitzgeralds and guess what? It really feels at home there. The six-person revue -- three comedians, three dancers -- fits just about perfectly in the cozy venue, and the retirement-aged crowd was laughing it up. Seniors seem to be getting swept aside on the Strip because they're not buying $400 bottle service at Pure. But they still come to town and their money still spends.

"Bottoms Up" is a tricky show to describe -- and for some, tricky to watch -- because so much of it depends on how you respond to comedians Wall, David Harris and Sue Motsinger. It's all about personality and their ability to sweep you into the creaky sketches.

Take the bit with Wall and Harris miming to song snippets as they pull various props out of a trunk. There would be little that's funny about most people holding old green Princess phones and mouthing the words to Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald's "Indian Love Call:" "When I'm calling you-u-u-u... You will answer too-o-o-o...."

But it's funny here, because of how long these guys have known each other. Because of how long they've been doing the bit. And because they still seem to find it funny. Harris has this pliant face that recalls Buddy Hackett and Jimmy Durante, and a deadpan style that never lets him over-enjoy what he's doing.

If the two don't break you down when they hold up the light bulb ("You Light Up My Life") or the pizza pie ("That's Amore"), they're gonna get you when Harris pulls out the Depends box during Britney Spears' "Oops! ... I Did It Again." If not, you might as well pack up and leave. It doesn't get any better.

Well, almost. The sketch about the men's room urinals -- better if you don't ask -- with Wall, Harris and male dancer Bryan Yates is reined in and so well-timed that it shows you what these guys are capable of if, well, they weren't so set in their ways.

Even so, there is something to be said for old performers pretending to be even older: Harris and Motsinger as Ebeneezer Geezer and his squeeze Maydelle singing "Instead of Parcheesi, how about a little squeezy?" Or Motsinger as "Fatsy Cline" pulling a picture of Bill Clinton, a crutch and a golf club out of her cleavage as she croons "She's Got You."

And you can't say the show overstays its welcome. The performance I caught ran only 50 minutes because a wardrobe malfunction kept Harris from doing his Cher spoof.

Is it possible to get someone under 60 to see "Bottom's Up"? I offer the same idea I posed in 2000: Instead of the pointless dance interludes with Yates, Carrie Proffett and Amy Geldhos, rendered even more pointless by the tiny stage and minimal lighting, why not turn "Bottoms Up" into a burlesque revue?

The recent Miss Exotic World burlesque reunion, also held downtown at the nearby Celebrity Theatre, proves there's a younger following for this vintage entertainment. Plenty of performers are preserving strip-tease routines as old as the jokes in "Bottoms Up." Some of them are young, and some of them old enough to chase Harris around the stage or help him in and out of his Cher costume.