The Red Piano

$115 buys you a ticket for a cheap seat to the Elton John concert at the Caesars Colosseum. Three long escalator rides up to the top of the theatre and I was happy to find my seat was in the centre and not right at the back. It’s amazing though that the view is spectacular from this high perch. Being alone, I watched the other patrons more intently. The other cheapos! Hmmm – lots of blue jeans, a couple of Stetsons (they’d better take them off before the show starts) but no baseball caps. Varied ages – lots in their twenties and thirties – not too many over 60. Are all the older ones in the ‘good’ seats? An aging usher, half glasses perched on the end of his roman nose, performed his job officiously, feeling his power as he barked ‘wait just a minute’ to a clumsy-footed woman, obviously fearful of the precipitous height and eager to sit down.

There’s obviously no dress code – a trio (1 man/2 women) of neon tshirt clad, extremely overweight, unsophisticates, their tshirts sporting ‘Margaritaville’ with huge pictures of parrots (I guess we know where they’ve been) across the fronts and backs clumped down the stairs and plopped heavily into their seats overflowing to the next seats – I was so glad that they weren’t beside me. They carried huge glasses of what looked like beer.

A man sat down beside me and struck up a conversation (or was it me that started it?). His wife elected to miss the show as she wasn’t a huge Elton fan (didn’t know such people existed) and she’d rather see a Cirque de Soleil show. We chatted about shows we’d seen. He’d seen EJ three times, Neil Diamond twice, & Cher’s everlasting retirement show. He was an agreeable nerdish looking guy – 45ish I’d guess but he knew his stuff about the stars and LV. Having him to talk to, the wait for the show to start seemed to pass quickly.

The house lights dimmed, an army of white-overalled attendants stripped the huge cover from the Red Piano to a rumble of ‘awwwwwws’ emanating from the audience. The piano stood atop a huge red-rimmed star and gigantic (about 30 foot high, I’d estimate) illuminated and flashing multi-coloured letters drifted down from the ceiling E L T O N. Almost anti-climactic, a roly-poly little figure sauntered out from the wings, waving double peace signs to the entire audience even those in the rafters. He was clad in his usual long-jacketed black suit embroidered with huge yellow and lime green aspidistras (I don’t really know what an aspidistra looks like) and twining pink petunias down the legs of the trousers as well as the jacket. A red ruffly shirt beneath topped with his signature cross around his neck. How can this portly little man command the attention of such a huge audience – pure talent, that’s how.

He started with Benny and the Jets and I waited for the big screen to show an up-close view of him but the screen showed a wild video of the sixties and seventies, full of female nudity…..lots of bare breasts, which I found strange. I guess it was just portraying the lifestyle of the times and the freeing of women…….I dunno!

His voice was rich and resonating but I found myself wishing that it were just him and his red piano in a smaller venue and none of the folderol to take attention away from his incredible talent.
His stubby fingers flew across the keyboard and his gap-toothed smile was totally captivating. He only performed 15 songs and was on stage only a little over an hour and a half. I guess there’s no such thing as encores anymore.

He quipped about Celine Dion and her rail thin figure. “For someone who’s always had a struggle with weight……I ‘fucking’ hate her” – “put her behind a piano for 30 years and see how big her ass gets” he spit out emphatically.

As the show went on, the background video got raunchier with a dancing couple in a seedy bedroom portraying a sexual incident coupled with violence – what’s love got to do with that? Another song was backed up by a video of a row of five Pamela Andersons doing a pole dance. Then they pulled out all the plugs and started blowing up massive apples and bananas with strange erotic protuberances that were overt sexual symbols and a gigantic pair of breasts from one side of the stage and a pair of nylon stockinged legs complete with garters and high heels at the back of the stage. They couldn’t stop with the giant blowups – a cigarette, a lipstick, an ice cream cone, a hot dog. Then large balloons started falling from the ceiling landing on the ground floor audience who batted them about. Confetti was the next thing to fall as about 30 audience members were invited onstage to bop along to the music. They were obviously told to keep back about 8 feet from the star as they swayed and clicked their fingers in a stiff and embarrassed manner. When Elton sang ‘Candle in the Wind’, the video showed an actress playing Marilyn Monroe – if they couldn’t use real Monroe film, I wish they’d not bothered. He sang a couple of love songs beautifully “How Wonderful Life is now You’re in the World” and “I Believe in Love”.

“The red piano is a symbol for love and my show is dedicated to love” he explained. I wanted to ask him what all the bare breasts, erotic blow-ups and dirty dancing had to do with love. I particularly don’t understand the fascination with the female body when he’s gay – you’d think that he would have some input into the production.

So I guess you’re wondering “did she enjoy the show?” – “did she feel it was worth $115?” Well I am really glad that I went and I really enjoyed his singing when I could ignore all the elaboration. Hmmm the $115 – no, I don’t think it was worth that much. And was I offended by the content? No, of course not – just puzzled. And when I compare it to the Celine Dion show in the same theatre – it doesn’t fare well. But I love Elton and always will in spite of his bitchy side.