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SHOWGIRLS these shows/7 concurs Ginny Murphy, the Tropicana's director of entertainment. /7By sitting around watch- ing the boob tube all day, they've lost interest in the live tradition." One of the primary pleasures of going backstage at a typical Strip extravaganza is to discover how much these shows still rely on living, breathing humans to exist in their traditional form. True, many jobs were lost in the late 780s when hotels jettisoned live orchestras to cut costs, but not every chore has been handed over to robots and computers. When witnessed firsthand, the interaction between cast and crew can be awe-inspiring. "As much choreography is required behind the curtains as on stage," allows Lisa, who, when she isn't managing Luxor's Midnight Fan- tasy revue, is spelling one of the singers or dancers. Midnight Fantasy is one of nearly a dozen topless cabaret-type shows that have been added to the entertainment menus of Strip resorts in the wake of the explosion in so-called gentlemen's clubs in the mid '90s. Compared with Folies Bergere and JubileeI, these shows are inexpensive to produce and stage, and tend to keep a hotel's guests?╟÷couples, especial- ly?╟÷from drifting off-property for titillation. Many of the performers in the smaller shows have worked stints with the larger productions (con- tracts typically need to be renewed every six months), as well as shows on cruise ships and at theme parks. Like dancers anywhere, most of the professional hoofers in Las Vegas?╟÷even those who spend most of By contrast, dozens of crewmembers and crafts- people work backstage at the mammoth Jubilee! The- atre in support of on-stage performers. They can be found several stories above the stage, handling the ropes and counterbalances that control the curtains and scenery; in the wings, moving giant set pieces into place; and in the rooms below the stage, helping the dancers and singers with their costumes. Because space is at a premium?╟÷and simple mistakes can be disastrous?╟÷every aspect of the 90-minute show is timed and executed with military precision. Gowns and heavy "backpack" headdresses will drop from the ceiling at exactly the right moment, and attendants will be at the ready to make adjustments. their time hanging on a pole while drunks throw dollar bills at themSstarted in ballet before deciding to move into jazz or some other dance discipline. It pro- vides them with a common language, if nothing else. Likewise, it isn't unusual to find former entertain- ers working backstage, in areas where their experi- ence can contribute to the production as a whole. Marco Rossetti-Busa and his brother, Fabio, can trace their roots in Italian circuses back eight generations. After performing as acrobats in various Las Vegas shows, both now work off-stage at Midnight Fantasy. "A performer has the eye and mindset to be aware of problems on stage, and has the timing to fix them," says Marco, who, as head carpenter, pretty much runs a one-man show backstage. "It's important as well to understand how a performer feels when something goes wrong." The title "carpenter" doesn't quite cover the list of duties required of Marco and the only other person backstage at Midnight Fantasy, wardrobe manager Rubina Ahmed. Besides working with wood, he opens the drapes for the girls as they exit the stage, raises and lowers overhead curtains, moves props, collects hats and fans, and fills water bottles. If an article of clothing is damaged on stage, either Marco or Ahmed will run down the steps to find a replacement. Costume changes are frequent, rapid and take place on three different levels of the venue. Gowns and heavy "backpack" headdresses will drop from the ceiling at exactly the right moment, and attendants will be at the ready to make adjustments. 'The girls are our first line of defense when it comes to maintaining costumes," says wardrobe manager Donna S. London, who oversees a crew of 27. The dancers give London's captains a heads-up on loose rhinestones, clasps and other endangered material, so that they can be fixed on the spot or left for repair by the seamstresses who arrive at 6:30 a.m. Remarkably, many of the vintage costume pieces have lasted the entire length of the show's 23-year run. Folies Bergere, meanwhile, is essentially a single- floor operation. The props and scenery changes are far more manageable, and require fewer people to accomplish. The compactness of the venue, though, also means that the dancers are running every which way between scenes, and changing costumers in cor- ners and hallways to save time. Any pretense of modesty?╟÷on- and off-stage?╟÷ must be abandoned upon acceptance of a contract with most Las Vegas shows. The girls may feel com- fortable going topless before an audience of strangers, but stripping down to the bare essentials in front of male colleagues can require yet another ounce of courage. For stagehands, frequent exposure to dozens of pairs of breasts at a time is just part of the job. "It's like working in a bank and having to handle money all the time," says Alfred Bash before the Tropicana show. "It's just work, and you get used to it." In fact, more of his friends will ask about the cher- ry '57 Chevy used during a dance number in Folies than about the physical attributes of his co-workers. 'They mostly want to know if the car is real?╟÷it is?╟÷and how we pull off the quick set changes," Bash adds. "What's sexy to the rest of the world is a job here. Of course, some jobs offer better scenery than others." As the French say, ?╟úVive la difference." 80 Vegas April 2004