‘Raw Talent Live’
"Raw Talent Live" was created in a vacuum. And those who remember their middle-school science know what happens when vacuums are breached. If you don’t, go smash a light bulb or your middle-school thermos.
It will be more exciting.
The show is an incoherent mess, and that opinion may well come as a surprise to its primary creator.
After all, she spared no expense renovating a lackluster Sahara theater and filling it with talented musicians, singers and dancers and expensive video equipment.
But the result is akin to someone going out and buying only the finest ingredients to make a souffle, without having a good, clear recipe on how to bake it.
If you wonder where the blame lies, I can direct you to the back page of a full-color, 64-page slick-paper souvenir program (with bonus CD) that has been made available in the gift shop for an optimistically priced $20.
"Conceived & Created by: ND … Written by: ND … Directed by: ND … Produced by: ND."
ND was only a nickname for Nicole Durr four years ago, when her highly worthwhile "Havana Night Club" played the Stardust. For this one, she described turning her local studio into "an experimental lab" for two years.
She wanted no reporters to witness rehearsals before opening night Oct. 3. But at that point, all reviewers were welcome. Suddenly, Cirque du Soleil is looking smarter by doing a month of discounted previews for its troubled "Criss Angel — Believe," making changes based on the reactions of paying customers.
Anyone beyond the sycophant circle might have told ND the elaborate "Matrix"-type mythology somewhat spelled out in the program isn’t communicated onstage. Or that the title becomes ironic when the attractive, sculpted performers labor in the shadows of flashy video projections (by Alex "10C" Doss).
Side stages envelop the audience, yet the action seems dim and remote. The whole stage just seems dark, perhaps so we can see the video screens. What was supposed to be immediate is instead confusing because the audience doesn’t know where to focus attention.
Too bad, because at rare moments the Latin rhythms, sensual vocals and dynamic musicianship create a false sense of excitement, as though a good show might break out at any moment. "Raw Talent" is the rare show on the Strip to acknowledge how Latin and bilingual this region has become. One number is tinged with mariachi and another works up a Latin-pop mambo.
Original songs are admirable. But hearing them for the first time, and with anything less than crystal-clear vocals, muddle any story they are trying to convey.
"Raw Talent" mostly plays out like a Cirque without any center-focus acrobats. There’s a basic question of just what it is we’re watching: A musical with a plot? Or a revue with loosely connected dance sequences? And it isn’t answered by the fragments of story given to us via projected bits of text or some hammy cartoon acting by a couple of characters intended to be audience guides.
Not knowing just who they are, it’s hard to enjoy people wrestling for control of a laptop computer "of Life," which enables them to enter virtual worlds for each musical segment.
We see the most of a guy called Sir Real (Adamme Sosa), who is kind of a Jack Black dressed up like Alice Cooper, and Miss Conscience Guilt — CG, get it? — (Seidy Carrera) who runs around shouting, "Have you seen my Laptop of Life?" when the two aren’t tugging on opposite ends of it.
I’d like to think it was all aimed as broad satire, but few in the audience seemed to find any intentional humor. There were mostly nervous chuckles and polite applause in empathy with the hardworking performers, particularly in an interesting semifinale when they come out in their rehearsal clothes.
Raw talent? Sure. Raw hubris? Absolutely.
Contact reporter Mike Weatherford at mweatherford@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0288.