CineVegas Film Festival...George Michael in Concert! Busted in Vegas, not!

As you head in from the desert, the picturesque rugged mountains that rim the valley fall out of view, and ahead the city of Las Vegas sits like a sparkling gem in the dazzling mid-day sun.



On the strip there is a buzz in the air.



Tourists gobble up the eye-candy as they snap photos furiously - all-the-while - caught up in a sort-of feeding frenzy.



Quaint gondolas glide by in front of the Venetian and a stunning water display delights in front of the Bellagio.

As snatches of French, German & Chinese fall on the ears, it's evident glitzy "Sin City" is a captivating concept to cultures around the globe.



Although I am in town to catch the CineVegas Film Festival - which has a satellite base at the Palms Casino - I'm inclined to go with the flo and explore the Boulevard and mix in with the crowd.



At MGM, I catch the tail end of the Lion Show.



In their confined habitat on the main floor of the Casino, the cubs act like playful puppies with their trainer. But when the mic picks up their mighty roar from within the walled enclosure, it is obvious why they are the King of the Jungle.



At MGM, gyrating images of George Michael flash on wide screens throughout the establishment exalting his concert slated for June 21st.



Expect a sell-out, thanks to old wham, fans



At Caesars Palace, the Big 3 - Sir Elton (John), Cher (Legendary), and Bette (Bugle girl) - were being promoted in anticipation of their grand entrances into the spotlight in coming weeks.



After the curtains fall on each - I wonder, will the pop icons sneak into one another's suites in their nighties and snack on delectable goodies - as they reminisce about the old days 'til the crack of dawn?



For this time of year, the sun was intense, and sent the mercury soaring to 107 most days.

Adidas and a handful of other smart shopkeepers installed "misters" outside on the street - so their customers could slip out of the intense rays of the big burn and breath a sight of relief - if only for a second or two.

Surprisingly, I chose to window-shop a bit among the throngs that were gathering by the minute in the exotic desert oasis.

I passed on a T-shirt that said:

"Property of Las Vegas County Jail".

After all, who wants to tempt fate?

Instead, I purchased one that showed off my torso, which brazenly shouted out on its face:

"Busted in Vegas".

A dollar sign etched on the front with a red circle and a slash running through it said it all.

Not!

I'm too practical when with money these days.

What little of it, I have, of course.

The humorous tank top elicited a number of smiles and chuckles throughout the day as I sauntered this way 'n that in the electric tourist mecca.

When I chatted up a handful of hotel employees, they were surprised to hear that the annual CineVegas Vegas Film Festival was opening later that day.

There's wasn't much in the way of local publicity advertising the event, I guess.

Many were clueless about the fact dozens of dazzling celebrities would be jetting in for the event.

Well - Anjelica Huston, James Caan, and Sam Rockwell - for starters; after all, they were attending a red-carpet premiere in honor of their acting chops.

Dennis Hopper - who became a sort-of goodwill Ambassador for the Festival - hosted a party at TAO on his birthday.

The trendy night spot was being promoted as a religious nightclub experience!

Actually, many of the Casinos were going for a younger market over the summer months.

MGM brazenly touts its club "Tabu" on the outside of the entertainment complex with sexually-implicit ads of a young stud offering up a cherry to a sexy lady-of-the-night in a reclining position.





A visually-appealing advert for the spa and pool played up the erotic image, too, with a sizzling publicity still of a lifeguard with perfect pecs and chiseled abs beckoning guests in.

Save my life any day, Bud!

On the evening I galloped into town, I got all gussied up and took in a red-carpet event for the premiere of - "The Rocker" - which kicked off the high-profile CineVegas Film Festival.

Last word from the organizers before I left Los Angeles was that "Get Smart" would be a sell out.

Wonder why?

But, the festival staff managed to squeeze me in, to my delight!

An eclectic mix of shorts films, documentaries, and locally produced features were being screened at the annual festival - in addition to - a handful of special celluloid boutique masterpieces.

I'll trot around the Vegas landscape until I'm ready to wilt away.

But, I'll be sure to sip a cocktail, play the slots, and loll by the pool at the Sahara for a few hours, if only to pep me up a bit before the round of party-hopping starts later this evening.

At a minimum, I should be able to not only rustle up a dollop of gossip, but kick up my heels a little, too.



Skoal!

Barry Manilow...headlines Vegas; long way from Continental Baths!

Apparently, Barry Manilow woke up one morning to find himself "broke".

His financial advisers either mismanaged his money or simply ran off with it.

Sadly, Mr. Manilow was forced to return to "work".

Before you could say "Memories" the 70's pop star landed a gig headlining in Las Vegas. Now, he's taking his fans on a trip down nostalgia lane.

As I surfed the TV by remote last night, I caught a promo for a new album slated for release to coincide with his current sell-out concerts on the glitzy strip.

There he was doing a kind of cha-cha down a catwalk, occasionally hopping into the packed audience to give a big hug to a fan or kiss the air suggestively near a chubby cheek.

Ah, Manilow magic is thriving in the new millennium.

Is it me, or does Mr. Manilow look a lot like Ellen DeGeneres these days?

I am so glad he didn't go the Elvis route with the flashy threads, a larger than life persona, and carnival-like gimmicks. On this occasion, the diminutive crooner was attired in a classy dress jacket (with a slight sheen to it, which I warmed up to right away) with an open-collared shirt in midnight blue and chic tailored slacks.

No jewelery, though. Did his financial handlers run off with that, too?

Just as I started to wonder what-in-the-heck happened to COPACABANA, he announced to the audience how proud he was of the "new arrangement" which was crafted for an album due to be released.

Barrie, it's God awful. Don't tamper with success, please.

Even still, Manilow has come a long way since the Continental Baths (male bath house) where he first played the ivories in New York as a back-up pianist for legendary Bette Midler.

I wonder how he managed to remain focused on the sheet music - what with all those hot muscular dudes traipsing in and out of the steam room - every five minutes or so.

In the early seventies an old friend - Jeffrey Jones (I knew him when he was just emoting one-liners in high-brow Shakespearean productions, before he played the role of the principal in the comedy "Ferris Bueller's Day Off", and long before his sex scandal hit the tabloids a couple of years ago) invited me to attend a Midler concert at the Palace in New York.

At one juncture, Bette interrupted the show a beat to introduce her back-up pianist, Barry Manilow.

"He's going to be big one day. He's so talented," chirped Bette with a lot of enthusiasm.

Then, with her blessing, he proceeded to show off his stuff in a mini-performance. For the most part, he played a handful of jingles he wrote for TV commercials, and a tune or two he'd written for a couple of name performers.

A few years later, he stepped out of the background, and the rest is music history!

Yes, he's come a long way since the Continental Baths.

By the way, has he come out yet?

I noticed in the clip on the Arts Channel that Mr. Manilow was wearing earplugs. I wonder, were the lyrics being piped in for him to follow?

Personally, I found his distorted facial expressions distracting when the camera panned in, not flattering at all. Also, it was apparent from the way he was stretching the muscles in his neck - and vigorously working his lower jaw - that he was not using his vocal chords correctly.

Understandably, he was incapable of hitting the high notes.

Yes, all that can be sweetened in the studio. But - in a live performance - it's painfully obvious that Manilow is a mediocre singer with limited vocal range.

However, his tunes - although a bit mushy and smacking of sickening-sweet sentimentality that turns a stomach on occasion - are catchy. The memorable melodies have a way of lingering, too; the sure sign of a "hit".

Keep pluggin' away, Barry - you'll turn up another winner, yet.

But, please drop the "new arrangements".

In the final analysis the song stylings are deadly - and sure to kill your career - not revive it.