But now Brady is making a deeper commitment to The Venetian, with a showcase that will keep him there through June and may return in August. "Making It Up" has the backing of theatrical producer Base Entertainment, and there's a clear searching for that next level.

"This is one of those old-time variety shows," Brady proclaims at the beginning, hoofing it amid four dancers to a Vegas-y cover of the Gnarls Barkley hit "Crazy." It launches the show with the right retro-tinged tone, and still manages to deliver a punch line to a joke set up by a pre-show video.

The bulk of the set is still in the hands of Brady and comic sidekick Jonathan Mangum. The two have worked together since they were no-names in the early '90s, and because of their experience playing off one another, there's really no end to the improv formats, or "games," they can throw themselves into.

This can be a mixed blessing. It takes experience and nuance for the duo to solicit a few basic details from an audience member, then build that information into a whole "rock opera" that lampoons musicals such as "Rent."

But familiarity also breeds restlessness when the two shake down another audience member for a scenario -- in this case, shooting a photo of Mike Tyson -- that's repeated in the style of various movie genres. After clobbering the first few pitches ("That's pernicious," Brady lisps as Tyson), Brady and Mangum seemed to visibly tire of suggestions (gangster, Western, etc.) they've no doubt fielded hundreds of times before.

The live band is put to good use for a strong rebound that allows Brady to imitate Bono, Elvis, Prince and Tina Turner with improvised lyrics based on fake song titles dreamed up by the audience. And Brady was even funnier for taking the high road with a song title derived from sexual slang, shaping the joke out of the request itself.

The final segment leaves Mangum and the comedy behind for straight-up tributes to Luther Vandross, Sammy Davis Jr. and James Brown. The goal obviously was to let Brady work himself into the sweat-drenched, anything-to-please persona of the latter two.

While there's no arguing with any show that throws down "Sex Machine," the dancers suddenly seem to be in the way and the audience may well be waiting for a punch line that doesn't materialize.

What's also missing is anything telling the audience more about the real Brady, who turns 35 on Saturday. The personality-driven format he has chosen almost demands more explanation of who lies behind the quick study and gifted mimic.

The improv still is the most sure-footed part of this act, and if that's an apparent contradiction, don't sweat it. There's little doubt it will get where it needs to be.