Getting into the Game

But the audience-participation spoof of the surf movie was a nonstarter, closing during its first week at the V Theater.

So, you ask, with the economy spiraling downward and no big shows on the horizon until "The Lion King" in April, what new titles could possibly get in the game?

Well, you could appeal to greed. "The Real Deal" is an interactive poker show with prizes, debuting Tuesday at The Venetian.

Or you could take on a second job, on an even lower budget than "Point Break." Indefatigable comedian Kevin Burke wasn’t busy enough with nine weekly performances of "Defending the Caveman." On Thursday, he opened his own stand-up showcase, "Fitz of Laughter," at Fitzgeralds.

BLUFFING THE PROS

They said he looked wimpy.

Ha!

When the cards were flipped, mild-mannered Trevor Johnson, a valet at the Palazzo, had bluffed everyone with his 5-2 hand — including pro Eli Elezra, who had folded an ace-10.

"Everyone showed weakness," Johnson explained with a meek but satisfied smile, before training his sights on Jennifer Harmon.

"This guy wants to beat me," she noted. And he did, after a showdown of $100,000 Texas hold ’em hands.

If it all sounds like the fever dream of someone who fell asleep on the sofa in front of cable-TV poker, that’s not a bad way to describe "The Real Deal." The new show is a cross between a game show and The World Series of Poker, complete with a flashy set by "American Idol" production designer Andy Walmsley and a comedian host.

Paul Rodriguez is the debut host for the show that starts selling tickets with a soft opening Tuesday and a grand opening on Oct. 21. "Deal" will run mostly afternoons in The Venetian theater shared with Wayne Brady. Flamingo Las Vegas headliner Vinnie Favorito is the backup host when Rodriguez is busy with other stand-up commitments.

"These guys are rock stars," executive producer Gary Smith says of pros such as Phil Hellmuth and Daniel Negreanu, who have committed to the rotation. Still, he acknowledges, "If we weren’t interactive, I don’t think this could work. … Nobody’s just sitting and watching the show. They’re actually a part of it."

Several audience members will come onstage to sit at the table. Everyone else in the crowd collectively plays the final seat at the table — for prizes, not cash — on a hand-held gaming device, matching their electronic cards to the actual pair turned over by the live dealer.

The touch-screen computers that clip to each chair’s cup holder never have been used in a show before, says producer Merv Adelson, whose background is more in TV. Yes, he says, if the show gets to where it sells out all 750 seats, all 750 audience members still will get to play.

A giant screen displays the leading point totals from the crowd, and the point leader is called to the stage to play the final round against the table’s last survivor, with coaching from the pros.

Along the way, the pros share their wisdom and initiates learn the basics of poker and its slang.

"What do you call that hand with all those queens?" Rodriguez asks co-host Kenna James.

"A San Francisco."

"That’s the whole Bay Area," Rodriguez replies.

Alas, on this day of a practice run with casino employees, Trevor Johnson was unseated by another audience member named Diana, who described her profession as "armed security." "I haven’t seen so many straights since I was in Salt Lake City," Rodriguez said, marveling at her luck.

A DAY OFF? FORGET IT

Apparently it wasn’t enough for Kevin Burke to carry the weight of a one-man comic play, "Defending the Caveman."

After he responded to an emergency call from Fitzgeralds to substitute for a failed comedy club, management liked what they saw and offered Burke a full-time gig. Instead of saying he already had a job, Burke was all in for "Fitz of Laughter."

"Why wuss out now?" he says of doing 16 shows per week.

It’s a smart hedge, since the future of "Caveman" is uncertain after it closes at the Golden Nugget in January. But Burke did 15 years of stand-up, and the new project is adapted from the long-form autobiographical show he did before signing on to perform "Caveman" (which is written by another comedian, Rob Becker).

"I’ve been working with an incredibly tight structure with ‘Caveman’ for 16 months now, so I want something that has a little more room to breathe," Burke notes. But the two ventures are more alike than they are different, because Burke’s stand-up isn’t just stray one-liners and riffs with the crowd.

"There is a thread and a bit of a story arc if you’re looking for it," he says. "It will not seem anywhere near as structured as ‘Caveman’ to the naked eye," though "my stuff takes a little bit longer to play out" than the average one-liner. "I never wrote in those 60-second, five-big-laugh chunks."

Burke’s show talks about his grandmother, Hettie Reilly, a vaudeville performer turned fraudulent spiritualist and "psychic con artist," who eventually was told to knock it off by Harry Houdini. "I will give you every impression of being able to read your mind as I tell you how I do it," he says.

His own career has been more honest, but no less diverse. Burke studied improvisation with The Second City, but wasn’t hired by the troupe. When he "woke up one morning and read about auditions" for Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, he ended up in the circus’ 10-week clown college, studying everything from unicycling to juggling before spending a year on the road as a clown.

"The best part of my day as a clown was riding an elephant," he says. "It was an experience like no other."

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