‘Tony N’ Tina’s Wedding’ leaves everyone happy

Some people have to be coaxed into this interactive-theater thing, and some don't. "Tony N' Tina's Wedding" takes care of them both.

The surreal play-along comedy debuted in Las Vegas 10 years ago, long before people gave you funny looks if you weren't on Facebook.

So, at this table sat your dutiful scribe, here to once again review the show because it has once again moved, this time into the best room of its four: a former Bally's buffet with split levels of seating, retro-kitsch chandelier and picture-window views.

Someone could really throw a wedding here.

Across from me: a retirement-age couple who, at the risk of stereotyping (something the show itself does not worry about), did not seem like the kind of people who check in on Foursquare.

Early on, they seemed more concerned with their salads than the wedding ceremony that kicks off the scripted part of the show and brings the whole crowd to the same reference points for the make-believe mayhem to follow.

And next to me? A 30-something dude who was sure he was funnier than the actors he yelled stuff at. In my many visits, I had never looked at the show from his point of view.

"The good thing is, you can never insult someone," he explained.

His logic was that it's a show about two loutish Italian-American families getting wasted and trashing one another. So if you get down in the mud with them, you're only sliming the characters, not the actors who play them.

The upshot? Everyone at the table walked away happy.

Retiree Lady was twice lured to the dance floor, the first time a bit hesitantly by the mother of the bride (Barbara Lauren). But later, when Tony himself (Adam Martinez) pulled her up to dance, she needed no coaxing at all.

And Funny Guy? "I evolved into a Lion King, baby," he said with self-satisfaction, after an extended improv at our table with Tony's dad's girlfriend. She's a stripper (long played by Alison Mills) who offered to put us on the VIP list if we came to see her later at the Animal Kingdom.

When Funny Guy asked, "Does that mean I'll be 'lion' on you?" - tell ya, the dude killed - she anointed him "The Lion King" for the rest of our time in Vinnie Black's Colosseum catering hall.

Speaking of, the big kitchen for this "boo-fay of love" means that for the first time, the food is prepared on site. And while the pasta and chicken Parmesan fall into the background of bantering table visits for this rare Las Vegas dinner show, it seemed to go down with enthusiasm.

But one thing set me apart from my table mates. I've seen the show so many times, I recognize the scripted punch lines.

Like when the father of the groom (Paul Campanella) almost gets choked up as he toasts that he "never had a daughter before," but then is quick to add, "and I never had an Asian broad either!"

Or when the wedding goes off the rails and the bride (Jen Spraul) decrees her pregnant, gum-chomping maid of honor (Sue Ann Jernee) is instead "a maid of trash, and you're made of trash!"

When improvising, the actors tend to flesh out the cardboard stereotypes. Plus, it's more fun when a character walks by and gives your table its own private joke.

Best of all is to eavesdrop on the characters when they are only talking to one another. You will never, ever hear them discuss what they're doing after the show. Never breaking character, as well as a "bible" for each actor to explain the character's backstory - even if you never learn it - are two hallmarks that keep "Tony" (still under the helm of original director Larry Pellegrini) a notch above its knockoffs.

I've also seen the show enough to recognize it has an overriding structure, and that things come to a boil when the wedding is crashed by Tina's drunken ex-boyfriend. This character was AWOL at this performance, an absence you might assume would be devastating.

But I was probably the only one to notice. The show is so flexible that the priest (Ronnie Silveira), whose drunken slide is usually for only those who pay attention, stepped into the spotlight to handle the climactic dropping of trou.

That may be the takeaway here: Each night will be different, and some better than others. But you can rest assured, someone will drop his pants.

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