‘Louie LOL’

The best comedy is that closest to the truth, and Louie Anderson admits onstage that in his mid-50s, "I'm not 'with it.' "

When he's around a group of younger people now, the comedian catches himself asking, "What are they talking about?"

This is a stand-up routine, but it gets close to Anderson's real career woes: a slow 13-year trek of downward mobility, from once packing Bally's old 1,000-seat Celebrity Room to his new residency in a 200-seat comedy club at Palace Station.

Because the comedian's fan base aligns so perfectly with what he would call "the butter families" of Middle America -- the decidedly unhip counterpart to the Strip's hotly sought club demo -- I'm afraid it fueled a widespread perception that Anderson isn't funny anymore.

Not true. The formal unveiling of "Louie LOL" last week was a reminder that it's possible to be both funny and irrelevant.

Anderson presides over his new forum with the relaxed confidence of years on a stage. Punch lines make sneak attacks, disguised as conversation. A guy up front reveals, "I'm a horse player."

"Really? I always wanted to be a jockey," the hefty comedian replies in a flash.

But Anderson says he wants this showcase to get back to the basics of his early career. Media night (for a mix of press and paying customers) was basically a greatest-hits revue, tight in structure and light on crowd banter.

Without losing its casual air, the hour-plus set even shifted to a theatrical tone for a few minutes here and there, suggesting what Anderson might do in a long-form, Broadway-style showcase. Lighting cues helped set a poignant mood when the comedian reminisced about his parents.

The classic material about Dad's love of the city dump, or Mom's spying on neighbors and lifting pepper shakers from restaurants, is the bedrock of Anderson's comedy; the sweet yet slightly bitter memories that inspired the animated "Life With Louie" TV series in the '90s.

This new challenge of getting tourists to cross Interstate 15 almost demands the old Louie, and Anderson doesn't have the luxury of turning his back on the classics the way Bill Cosby does with the old Fat Albert stuff.

Still, there's a trace of forward-looking comedy. In the past, Anderson has allowed himself to indulge a few minutes in edgier topics such as marijuana or his own heart attack. This time, he offered a new goof on the inanity of the "Twilight" flicks, proving he can be almost "with it" in his unhip kind of way.

("Are you an Edward or Jacob fan?" an audience member yells up. "I'm a popcorn fan," he replies.)

Most roads still lead back to his still-complicated relationship with his late parents, and that will ring true with more patrons than not. One early bit was at once a telling insight into the comedian's personality and the best example of his comedic point of view.

It was a routine about terrorists who bungle their bombing missions through premature detonation. Anderson's brain immediately makes him think of "judgmental parents." What would the terrorist's mom say to the neighbors?

"He didn't even make it out of the driveway."

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