Mystery key to entertainment value of Strip’s mentalism shows

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Can we get that cool-guy TV mentalist to come and explain these Las Vegas mentalists so we can move on?

Both "The Mentalist" at the V Theater and "Mental" at O’Sheas can thank the CBS hit "The Mentalist" for at least getting people to look twice at their ads.

But TV Sherlock Patrick Jane (played by Simon Baker) is a reformed phony psychic who figures out mysteries. Two Las Vegas mentalists hope you can’t.

And if one day their secrets creep into the public domain? Then they’re basically toast. That’s the thing about mentalists: It’s the one niche of magic that’s still genuinely baffling and all about fooling you. But if that ever ceases to be the case, there isn’t a lot of entertainment value beyond the mystery.

The Masked Magician’s TV exposés did a fair bit of damage to traditional Vegas stage magicians. But it didn’t put them out of business, because they don’t live or die on the illusions. You can "ooh" and "aah" at tigers, ogle the dancers or laugh at the cute things youngsters say when they’re pulled to the stage.

The mentalists do have degrees of amusing banter. Luke Jermay of "Mental" has a dry British wit, admiring one participant for his "Bond villain pose." But for the most part, you’re supposed to sit and be impressed, with dramatic orchestral music reinforcing the mood over the speakers in the gloomy little O’Sheas theater.

Gerry McCambridge — who called himself "The Mentalist" long before the TV show came around — is more the Long Island wise guy with a lot more jokes per minute. His show is much lighter, his stage outfitted like a TV game show; the audience gets to shoot hoops with 60 Nerf balls at the end.

But it’s still a lean-and-mean production, and mostly about the deception. If you think he’s really a mind reader, then you must be ready to hand over cash to psychic Sylvia Browne the next time she comes to town. McCambridge emphasizes that he’s not a psychic (they talk to dead people), instead telling the crowd he "flawlessly" merges lies and truth, blending influence, intuition and "psychometry."

Jermay doesn’t own up to outright trickery, but I’ve seen his opening and closing segments done by other magicians. If they’re new to you, they’re fairly impressive.

In the first, Jermay correctly names three playing cards chosen from a deck passed randomly amid audience members. For his grand finale, he has four people pick from five envelopes, promising $10,000 if they pick the right one. The other envelopes contain "worthless pieces of paper: Criss Angel tickets."

Nobody ever picks the right one. At least on this night, two guests had the satisfaction of thwarting what was supposed to be the coup de grace: colors beneath their folding chairs matching the colored paper inside the envelopes.

Most of the rest is based on Jermay’s discerning information audience members have written on index cards. One worked at a Buddhist meditation retreat. Another once ate $5,000 worth of truffles. Fascinating, if you’re listening. But shouldn’t you be trying to figure out how the info got from the cards to the performer?

McCambridge goes it one further by doing his mind reading blindfolded, with silver dollars duct-taped over his eyes for good measure. He has tightened up the act to a busy 75 minutes since his days at the Hooters Hotel, and added a hair-raising shell game in which one of the four foam cups covers a sharp memo spike, with the mentalist slamming his hand down on the other three.

(He keeps reminding the crowd there’s no way he can see, but his aim is unerring in smacking the cups.)

Perhaps because of the TV mentalist, McCambridge also has a new bit where he deconstructs the opening trick, in which audience members open envelopes onstage to reveal a phone number another has randomly selected from the white pages.

"It’s actually more fun if you know what I’m doing to you," McCambridge tells them, even if he’s most likely not telling the whole truth.

So is a mentalism show relaxing fun or mental anguish? It depends on your gullibility, or how much you enjoy the mystery. McCambridge relates how one older customer opined the silver dollars were "infrared TV-camera coins."

I’d go more for "little earbuds inside the blindfold." Your guess is as good as mine.

What do you think, Mr. Jane?

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