"Viva" defined the afternoon show as loss leader when producer Dick Feeney opened it at the Sands in 1991: cheapo tickets, further discounted to hotel guests or coupon holders, driving casino traffic in what otherwise might be pool or nap time.

The show moved to the Stratosphere and played for 10 years -- almost as long as it has featured the Shania Twain song "Man! I Feel Like a Woman!" -- before it disappeared for a while and then reopened at the Plaza in early October.

Value is still on Feeney's side, though time will tell if the sparse revue still can hold its own against better-but-pricier alternatives such as Mac King or the Society of Seven.

Dance numbers, fronted by singer Laurie Caceres to recorded music, titillate the retirees with old-Vegas showgirl outfits and a fun number with black fur coats. But there's a little too much of them overall, draining time from the stronger individual acts.

Max Clever, the magician who got a makeover on "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy," uses his versatility to step up as emcee of the current edition. His crowd banter is agreeably casual, and he throws in a little fire-breathing along with the cute dog tricks and comedy illusions.

Female magician Katalin is usually on-hand to add extra glitz and production value. But audiences weren't sleighted last week when her spot was taken by industrial-punk magician Dan Sperry, who makes birds vanish and appear with remarkable speed.

The closing act is Bruce "Big John" Mickelson, who starts off as though he's going to be a standard-issue redneck comic. After a few minutes, perceptive audience members -- and eventually everyone else -- gradually figure out they're really seeing more of a performance piece by a character actor.

Big John wants to help men folk get back their mojo, which, he explains as "Dixie" plays in the background, the women's movement has sapped: "We wanted a woman to be Tammy Wynette and we ended up with Hillary Rod-damn Clintons all over the place."

But his own sputtering fuse is too short to make him a trustworthy field general in rallying the male troops to the barbecue. And when the women in the audience begin to heckle, he turns out to be more Cliff Clavin than John Wayne.

Ah well. Men folk still can get their Biblical-metaphor revenge by burning ribs on the grill, he tells us. Or they can head over to the buffet for some, because the combo ticket is only a few dollars more.

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