Boomer Say "What?"

I'm the Generation that My Generation Warned Me About

A Media Shmedia column

by Scott Patrick Wagner

I had quite the time during my pilgrimage to Las Vegas last week. There is a whole buffet of experiences to be had there, not to mention a whole experience of buffets — the grazing episode at the Bellaggio buffet is one of my happiest and most excessive food orgies of recent memory.

If you think that Vegas features tacky spectacle, you're right. If you think that Vegas features sublime artistry, you're right. And therein lies the duality. I had been to Vegas only once previously as an adult, albeit a very young one, staying at Caesar's Palace on the coattails of my high-roller parental unit. My lasting impression was of middle-aged people drinking too much, and a great big statue of Michelangelo's David as the seminal guidepost. While I — like most men — am no stranger to finding my bearings in a penis-directed fashion, it did seem rather over-the-top.

Back in my parental unit's day, Caesar's was the place to stay; now it still has a modicum of luxe, but the Roman-ruins theme seems to be infiltrating the finishing touches of the place. While I wouldn't exactly call it tacky, the spectacle offered here is definitely on the hollow side — just like that mammoth David, which I'm certain is not chocolate-filled.

But next door is where that sublime thing comes in. We devoted much chilly outdoor time transfixed by the Bellaggio Fountains. Surprising as it sounds, synchronizing water to music can actually be Art, and this was choreographed by a genius. In contrast, when we walked up the street to the newly augmented "volcano" at the Mirage, we were unimpressed — the hollow spectacle is alive and screeching.

In a nod to Disneyland, Las Vegas now has background music in most every bit of hotel/casino acreage, both indoors and out. What was striking to me about the playlist, though, was how uncannily it was geared to my memory conduits. Virtually every song was either a flashback to high school or the '80s (being a tail-end Baby Boomer, high school for me ended before the '80s). This led me to the uneasy realization that the middle-aged revelers that were now drinking too much were my own demographic. Gulp.

I saw two shows while I was in Vegas. The first was "Love," the Beatles-themed show by Cirque du Soleil. Looking around me, everyone looked like the parents (during my childhood) who didn't approve of the Beatles. But these were actually the kids during the British Invasion, now strangely de-teenaged. Putting my age issues aside, "Love" is one of the best theatrical experiences I've ever had. It is unlike the normal Cirque du Soleil spectacle, transcending its way into a dance-theater experience that left me in tears. I can't recommend it highly enough, and am surprised and delighted that such non-hollow spectacle exists just past the quarter slots.

The other show was Bette Midler's "The Showgirl Must Go On." Ms. Mildew can always be counted on for a good time, and they have bumped up the extravagance for this 90-minute show (shorter than the old days, but then what Boomer isn't?). Besides some splendid stagecraft and a happily familiar mix of sass and sentiment from Miss M, there was a surprising component (one in keeping with the theme here): Bette is over 60, and it's not a secret. During her stream of happily vulgar Sophie Tucker jokes, she explained that she had created the persona in her thirties, imagining her to be in her sixties. And now — she left the thought unfinished, but we all got it.

One of the surprising choices in her song set was "Hello In There," a John Prine song I haven't heard her do since I was a much younger fellow. It is a song about a woman entering old age, with the suggestion for all of us to not ignore those "hollow, ancient eyes" but rather to say, Hello in there. As I looked around me in that audience, I remembered a parallel crowd 30 years ago, as we all listened to her sing those words and took that advice theoretically. And now — I'll just leave that thought unfinished. But if you're a Boomer, I think you'll get it.