The "Crazy Girls" mix the uniform attire inspired by the Crazy Horse club in Paris with American-style bump 'n' grind numbers. From left, Summer, Valentina, Terese and Eliset.

The "Crazy Girls" are high-kicking toward their 20th anniversary at the Riviera. At this point they're looking better than the casino and, except for maybe the juggler, looking to hang in as long as it does.

When the topless cabaret revue opened in late September 1987, Las Vegas had 18 other production shows -- compared to about 50 now -- and topless dance clubs weren't the upscale, above-board competition they are now.

Producer Norbert Aleman has said it's tough to compete against networked ticketing at corporate casinos for competitors such as "Fantasy." But he got a lucky break when his decision to freshen up "Crazy Girls" late last year coincided with the abrupt closure of two rivals, "Erocktica" and "Bareback."

Former "Crazy Girls" Karen Raider and Rayma Alfred helped choreographer Charmaine Hunter brush up the music and costumes, adding sparkle to the agreeably dingy atmosphere of the small showroom. (You can't call it "smoke-filled" these days, but the imagination compensates.)

And competition from well-funded topless revues such as "Crazy Horse Paris" (formerly "La Femme") may have inspired the need to add more stagecraft -- including the funniest metaphoric use of a confetti cannon on the Strip -- and more gizmos to twirl the gals and better display their solo numbers.

What was cut is as important as what was added. A cutesy scene with the gals in hair curlers finally has been put to rest, and we hope the worn-out wig pieces and nighties were burned instead of buried. The whole show is lip-synced, so the less this is brought to our attention, the better.

It's fine to have the ladies bump and grind to Aerosmith's "Pink" or Led Zeppelin's "I Can't Quit You Baby." But too much time with the dancers actually mouthing the words -- as Lindsay (only first names are billed) does to the obscure Ruth Wallis novelty song "Boobs" -- and you begin to wonder why someone couldn't perform it live.

A couple of the new bits offer a better grade of camp. The retro-disco "I Need a Cowboy to Ride My Pony," suggests that, unlike its classier inspiration at the MGM Grand, "Crazy Girls" has no delusions of being anything but racy fun. A saucy two-woman scene and various solo gyrations on chairs or sofas bring the strip club experience to a middle-market casino. And two of the women are progressively minus breast implants, allowing guys a full range of ogling, from cartoonish porn star to Fiona Apple-style waif.

If "Crazy Girls" hasn't changed much in nearly 20 years, the audience might have. In hitting the microfilm to nail down the number of competing shows back then, I ran across then-columnist Don Usherson's original review. He found its appeal "not a general one. Nor is it one composed of couples or many ladies."

Now it's almost exclusively couples; middle-aged women letting their husbands have some fun, or exploring the wild side in a safe setting as they do with Aleman's companion drag show, "An Evening at La Cage."

For them the revue was probably better with empathetic comedian Carole Montgomery. But there are still a few laughs from aging juggler Romano Frediani. His efforts are more visibly labored than they used to be, but he works that into his running patter.

Emcee Stuart May gets the show off to a high-energy start, then curiously disappears until the curtain call. At this show, he seemed surprised to find a wholesomely attractive front-row patron catching the show with her parents or in-laws. "You could be a Crazy Girl!" he told her.

After ducking the foot of a dancer on her back making spread-eagled V shapes, the visitor no doubt came as close to being a Crazy Girl as she ever wanted. But the story she can tell is probably what keeps this show in business.