Room makes Rio shows a chintzy experience

Charlie Franks strides right off the little stage to scarf up a woman, a ritual distinctive to Elvis impersonators. "Good thing your mama taught you never to play hard to get," he jokes.

"None of you is safe though," he adds to the surrounding audience.

Well, that's one good thing to say about this King's Room at the Rio. The mathematical odds in this tiny room are in your favor if you want to score a sweaty Elvis scarf in "2 Kings" or be hauled up and fitted with wig and furry vest to play Sonny to Bethany Owen's Cher in "One Voice."

Locals might better remember it as the front room of the Rio's bygone Fiore Steakhouse. Since my first visit for stand-up comedy last fall, they at least draped off the old pizza oven and built an actual stage to hang some lighting.

Still, this pair of new afternoon shows really pushes the room's limits for anything but stand-up.

Both shows have some merit in the talent onstage. But the overall experience is so chintzy, it's not what visitors expect from a nice place like the Rio, or Las Vegas in general. You shouldn't walk away appreciating Mac King or Nathan Burton for the mere fact that they perform in actual showrooms.

"2 Kings" has the wacky idea to pair Elvis and Michael Jackson impersonators, and to reward the patient with only-in-Vegas camp: a climactic duet on "Viva Las Vegas."

Until then, they sing separately to karaoke tracks; it's tempting to slap a "D" on it just for the audacity of charging for tickets. And yet (hoping nobody really pays face value for this thing), both performers manage to win you over.

Chris Gardner has a rougher go as Jackson, since you never picture the real one without backing dancers or production. He may flail like an animal trapped in a cage, but he is forced to speak more than the real Jackson likely would have. And the climactic "Billie Jean" dance throw-down makes you at least applaud the effort, and appreciate how few people are even physically in the ballpark to impersonate Jackson.

Franks more easily overcomes the awkward setup with jokes about "my band, the Sweet Invisibles." He's got the charm and the voice, belting "If I Can Dream" loud enough to hear in the casino, even if he looks more like Glen Campbell than Elvis.

Owen's "One Voice" is a slightly better fit for the room. Enough of her act is glorified stand-up, and she admirably finesses her way through the many blackouts required to change wigs and costume pieces.

As the only female impressionist in town, Owen offers the novelty of Sarah Palin, Hillary Clinton and Fran Drescher. But those are throwaways, without the wig commitments that make too much of the rest seemed forced and labored. You can get away with a so-so impression for a line or two, but not when you suit up as Joan Rivers and drag it out.

Like most of her male peers, Owen seems to think impressions as a genre demand quantity over quality. Husband-director Jim Whirlow apparently isn't detached enough to prune and police the act. The good segments are diluted by awful shtick such as a "Justify My Cones" Madonna bit.

Too much of it also seems dated, though retirees who will be the majority of weekday audiences may still chuckle at Dolly Parton boob jokes, memories of Minnie Pearl and references to Milli Vanilli or Roseanne Barr singing the national anthem.

At least a strong country medley can safely be called "classic." Great voicings of Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline and Reba McEntire would be a fine note to end it on -- but Owen doesn't know when to quit, switching into a laughable Shania Twain get-up. (Taylor Swift just happens to match Owen's whip-thin, leggy build, but I guess she figures seniors wouldn't know who that kid is.)

Song-and-dance man Rick Faugno recently said of his move to the Palms lounge, "You have to do what the room is asking you to do. ... That room is not asking for a dramatic presentation."

"2 Kings" is traveling too light for its own good already. But Owen would be wise to lighten up on the cues and leave some of the wigs and karaoke tracks in storage until she finds a room that asks for them.

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