Bemoan reality TV all you want, but shows such as America's Got Talent Live are just what Vegas needs right now
They were passing out pencils and paper at the doors of America’s Got Talent Las Vegas Live at the Luxor. There was only one possible use for those little miniature-golf pencils: We were gonna vote! Makes sense. After all, it’s our show. We, the people, have voted for who would win the NBC talent show for 16 seasons now.
Turns out I was wrong. A little, anyway. The pencils were just part of an audience-participation trick for show-closing magician Dustin Tavella. The AGT Las Vegas Live lineup is actually pretty locked down (with a bit of flexibility for substitutions) for the near future in Luxor’s big theater. No one gets voted on or off. But Tavella and eight more acts jammed into less than 90 minutes are still the result of an odd democracy, which flips the way things usually run in Las Vegas. David Copperfield, Criss Angel, and Penn & Teller built their fame for years before settling in on the Strip. But Tavella took the fast track: The relatable, nice-guy magician closes this show because AGT viewers picked him as the most recent winner.
AGT Las Vegas Live represents the whole “entertainment as sports” phenomenon come home to roost. The Food Network used to be the sleepy home of how-to cooking shows before Chopped and Christmas Cookie Challenge turned the kitchen into an arena, and gave Las Vegas a whole new tier of “headliners” such as Bobby Flay and Giada De Laurentiis. And pop music — at least the corner occupied by many a Las Vegas diva — was permanently transformed by the specific formula of American Idol and The Voice: Each singer starts down in that dramatic low range for the first verse, then bridges up to the wailing, extended note-stretching that makes the young studio audience erupt in whoops and hollers mid-song.
This influence is upending the standard Vegas entertainment model. Usually, it’s the producers who believe in a show enough to roll the dice, and only then do ticket-buyers tell them if that was a good decision. But this time, TV viewers help determine who gets to be onstage, and the producers have to hold their breath and hope people still remember — or care about — whom they picked the next time they’re show-shopping in Vegas.
These new rules leave the Luxor with a predictably mixed bag. Two previous attempts at a Las Vegas spin-off of America’s Got Talent (at Planet Hollywood in 2009 and the Palazzo in 2012) proved a live show version was trickier than you’d think. Turns out those who can perform their own full-length show already do: Terry Fator, Mat Franco, and Piff the Magic Dragon are but three winners or finalists who had every element of Las Vegas success already in place — except for that extra, supercharged boost of prime-time exposure and bragging rights that Talent provided. (Above, Light Balance performs in America's Got Talent Las Vegas Live.)
Others, well … they get their moment. Especially the singers. That’s where AGT fame can be transient, and emotional backstories carry disproportionate weight. Case in point here is singer-pianist Kodi Lee. When he comes out, we cheer ourselves hoarse because we love his spirit and what he’s accomplished as an artist who’s blind and autistic. And then he does two cover tunes, and they are … fine. Just enough. At least in this keep-’em-coming format.
This is where it helps to remember that all voting aside, the producers are ultimately in charge of this popularity contest. And they have a lot of wiggle room: Years of season winners and runners-up give them a deep bullpen to buffer the winners who may not have tons of stage experience with those who do. In fact, what they’re really selling is this accumulated strength in the title and the brand. Sure, some fans will be excited that singer Jimmie Herrod is on the bill. But it’s just as likely they’re buying the AGT title itself, similar to how some people may go to a comedy club to see a specific headliner — but more of them put their faith in a curated lineup.
That makes the Luxor production of America’s Got Talent Las Vegas Live the right show for right now. The property was in a unique position to bring the Strip something new yet familiar just when we needed it. After all, Cirque du Soleil is stalled, doing all it can just to restore its status quo on the Strip in pandemic times. If there’s any forward thinking in Montreal about new shows at all, it’s certainly with deep reservations after the mojo-zapping failure of Cirque’s action-themed R.U.N in the very same room. Without America’s Got Talent and its reliable branding of reliable formulas, the only entertainment news coming out of Las Vegas would be the big-name headliners — and the big announcements on that front already came with reminders that superstars can be ridiculously expensive (Adele) or vulnerable to health-related cancellations (Celine Dion).
America’s Got Talent doesn’t give you “stars” that it didn’t create itself. But, significantly, it does give you their names. Those acrobats and daredevils we typically take for granted on the Strip are the secret sauce of AGT, which gave prime-time visibility to niche talents you once found only in Vegas or on cruise ships. But this time we know who they are. The Strip is crawling with acrobats. However, they mainly work for Cirque, where they often become anonymous cast members cloaked in barrister wigs and epaulets. No one gets billing. (Not even the star talent: Carly Smithson, a high-profile American Idol contestant back in the day, wore a red wig and covered up her identifiable tattoos when she joined Cirque’s Viva Elvis).
The Luxor revue gives us three power couples to beef up the backstories: Who hasn’t pondered whether you trust your partner enough to let him throw knives at you? Deadly Games knife-slinger Alfredo Silva and Aleksandra Kiedrowicz are Las Vegans who worked on less grandiose stages — such as V - The Ultimate Variety Show at Planet Hollywood’s mall — before getting the poofs of fire and other big-budget trappings that Simon Cowell cash can buy. (Unlike Talent’s two past Las Vegas incarnations, this one is gorgeously packaged, with video-mapping on the side walls and other production elements possibly inherited from R.U.N.) But Talent gave the Deadly Games duo something else too: A personality, and a chance to feel properly introduced to Thommy and Amélie (the mind-reading Clairvoyants) or Tyce and Mary Ellen (the aerial gymnasts of Duo Transcend, who powered through a televised accident in 2018). This shotgun-marriage of acts even manages to squeeze in spoken-word poetry from Brandon Leake and artsy shadow dancing from the Silhouettes troupe. It all flies by quickly, and if you don’t like an act, you can always say, “I didn’t vote for them.” Democracy can be rough, as we’ve all learned in recent years. If you’re really bummed that you didn’t get to vote, you can still get your picture taken at a replica of the judges’ desk in the lobby.
And down the road, if they want to bring on Top Chef Las Vegas Live! — or Buddy vs. Duff, the Ultimate Vegas Cake Showdown? We’re ready, pencils sharpened.
Light Balance courtesy America’s Got Talent Las Vegas Live