‘Sgt. Pepper Live’ and Don Barnhart

Cheap Trick makes it a Beatles holiday on the Strip while a comedy club hopes to hypnotize locals through a slow stretch.

There will be no further lame “kaleidoscope eyes”-type attempts to link two limited runs, “Sgt. Pepper Live” at Paris Las Vegas and comedian-hypnotist Don Barnhart at Palace Station.

Respect is Cheap

Nobody likes budget cuts, but sometimes they force you to focus. Losing the guest stars this time around makes “Sgt. Pepper Live” less a Beatles salute on PBS and more about giving Cheap Trick some proper respect after 33 years.

“Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” is a short album, so guest singers padded it with other Beatles favorites at the Las Vegas Hilton last fall. Joan Osborne knocked “The Long and Winding Road” out of the park, but the other singers were too obscure to much matter (Ian Ball? Rob Laufer?).

This time at Paris Las Vegas, it’s a wiser use of Cheap Trick and 21 orchestra players to tear into a half-dozen of the band’s own durable tunes. Practice has made them all less awkward and more one big rocking ensemble. And Paris finally found a show that can fill its impossibly wide stage.

I tend to think of Cheap Trick as the eternal opening act, and concert promoters seem to agree. But keeping the same four guys together for 33 years has given them real rock-star gravity. (At least until very recently. Guitarist Rick Nielsen’s son Daxx is now road subbing for drummer Bun E. Carlos)

That comes in handy when you’re addressing the Sergeant. Singer Robin Zander was wondrously up to the task, channeling Ringo Starr’s crooning on “With a Little Help from My Friends,” then effortlessly shifting up to John Lennon’s range for “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.” A harp sets up a “She’s Leaving Home” so resonant we’re sorry we took Zander for granted so long.

Producer Bill Edwards still springs for six male singers and another six Indian musicians, who make the sitars swing on “Within You Without You” (with Trick bassist Tom Petersson taking the lead vocal) in a way the album only suggests.

If there’s any surprise to the evening I’m about to spoil it: The orchestra stays put for the Cheap Trick songs, swirling an instrumental of “The Flame” into a “Dream Police” of Beatle-esque grandeur.

“I Want You to Want Me” might be a little too ELO with strings, and only hard-core Tricksters will care about guitarist Nielsen’s chance to sing on “World’s Greatest Lover.” But one thing is clear about seeing the band indulge in this quality presentation: It’s entitled.

State-fair standard

Take a friend or three if you plan to see comedy-hypnotist Don Barnhart, and make sure someone wants to go up and volunteer. Otherwise, it’s going to be a long, hot summer at Bonkerz comedy club, where Barnhart is stationed through July 3.

I felt bad for the likable hypnotist last week. Only three people went up; all three were dudes. As often happens, one didn’t fall into a trance and had to go back to his seat.

That left two guys to play air guitar, pretend to smoke weed (they seemed very adept) and dance like ballerinas. Barnhart didn’t have a backup plan, such as more intricate routines you can’t do when managing a stage full of volunteers. His setups were state-fair standard.

Barnhart also does stand-up, serving as his own “middle” act for 10 minutes before calling up volunteers, so you’d think one skill could rescue the other. After all, your better hypnotists are quick with the banter and ad-libs.

But the stand-up was generic, a little strained and overanimated, and didn’t spill over into the hypnosis. Barnhart tells us hypnosis helped him overcome “some of my own dysfunctions and addictions.” But he didn’t elaborate, even though it sounded more intriguing than anything he did talk about.

The cheery Barnhart is at least trustworthy. Short of going onstage with him, people seemed to like the guy. “I will not embarrass you,” he promised more than once. But what is hypnosis, if not comedy of embarrassment?

One thing is certain. The hypnotist isn’t the one who is supposed to be embarrassed.

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