Anthony Cools and “Ooh La La”

For five years, hypnotist Anthony Cools has served up the most primal of comedy on the Strip. He has carved out a little miniempire at Paris Las Vegas, offering a Vegas/frat-party version of repertory theater in a former tour-and-travel lobby.

Cools’ raunchy hypnotist act is framed, at least for another couple of weeks, by performances of "Ooh La La," the topless show he created a year ago. That one apparently isn’t as immune to hard times, at least not before dinner. The 7 p.m. show disappears Aug. 1, cutting the performance schedule in half, to six shows each week at 11 p.m.

Cools should consider a combo ticket, since both shows are right up Horny Guy Alley. Already, there’s plenty of cross-promotion. Two of the "Ooh La La" dancers offer a preshow to early hypnosis arrivals, and the revue’s "French Maid" hostess, Nicky Taylor, doubles as the hypnotist’s onstage assistant.

You might be surprised to know the hypnosis show is the dirtier of the two. At least until you think about it. Amateurs can get away with more than pros in a regulated gaming environment.

The professional "Ooh La La" gals go tastefully topless, while the hypnotic volunteers aren’t reimbursed for their porn-movie auditions with a chair. But some of them, though more or less clothed, would seem to be no strangers to a stripper pole. And all 14 or so on this evening were quite familiar with porn-vid mechanics.

All the better for the target audience, my friends. Cools leads toasts onstage and announces, "The more noise you make out there, the dirtier I get up here."

Don’t believe it. "You won’t see this at Wayne Newton," Cools declares, but he wouldn’t hold back the "orgasm" for each volunteer any more than Newton would skip "MacArthur Park."

All hypnotism shows have trouble with quality control because of the variable volunteers. But Cools is more consistent than most. First, he sticks to the tried-and-true of physical slapstick — and simulated sex — instead of trying to turn his subjects into improv comics.

He also nullifies the issue of skepticism. You can choose to believe the subjects are under a heightened state of suggestion. But it’s no less outrageous if you think the trance is more of a kitchen pass to play-act; "an agreement to fantasize together," as professional skeptic James Randi calls it.

(Not to sway you either way, but I’ll pass this along for what it’s worth: This time, the most suspiciously entertaining performer — he didn’t volunteer, but supposedly drifted to trance in the audience — was the one who called people on his cell phone to, uhm, crudely announce a homosexual deed. Easy to fake the calls, right? But the last time I saw Cools, I eavesdropped on that night’s cell-phoner right after the show. He seemed genuinely chagrined, and his wife was telling him who needed damage-control calls.)

The real reason Cools outlasted a rash of bargain-basement competition is his own stage persona. He’s got a comedian’s timing in orchestrating the routines, and Johnny Carson-quality facial reactions to the antics, ranging from lecherous to mock-horror.

If the real hard times come and Cools has to bail out "Ooh La La," he can always step in as host. For the time being though, it remains distinct among Las Vegas girlie shows for two reasons: First, two of the dancers chat up the audience. Moreover, there’s no lame comedian or specialty act to throw a cold bucket of water on the action.

The show was reviewed last fall but has evolved enough for a quick update. The original hostess, Cher Westcott, is gone and her duties mostly transferred to Taylor, who ties the revue together as the audience guide from start to end. She doesn’t do a bad version of Madeline Kahn’s "I’m Tired" from "Blazing Saddles" either.

Other, more subtle changes keep the show hopping during its brisk 65 minutes, packing in magic tricks, an aerial hoop act (by Noelle Naone) and another one with silk fabric (by Isabella Rosetti-Busa). Gary Thomas directs and choreographs.

But lines such as, "This chick has a whip and she’s not afraid to use it," or "Saving the planet two hot chicks at a time" (by shower sharing) can only spring from the endearingly dirty mind of a certain hypnotist.

Contact reporter Mike Weatherford at mweatherford@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0288.