Wayne Brady

Brady was settling in as a major presence on the Strip before he signed up to host the relaunched "Let’s Make A Deal" last fall. It appeared his live show would be a hotter ticket then ever, but Brady instead cited vocal strain and chose to protect the TV gig; probably a lot more money with a lot less risk.

Now he’s back, not as The Venetian’s resident headliner but billed as a "special engagement" through July 5. It’s a streamlined format; no more dancers or dressing up like Tina Turner. Hearing his single "Ordinary" over the speakers before the show is a pretty good clue you won’t hear it in the show.

Brady and longtime sidekick Jonathan Mangum — with the help of two musicians — are back to the two-man version of an improv troupe they offered at The Mirage and Paris Las Vegas in the early 2000s.

Still, things have a way of working out. Brady’s a good singer, but so are a lot of people. But no one else is as good at "Making It Up," which happens to be the show title. (Or at least the clean version of the title. It’s always been a little confusing.)

Where else are you going to see a guy spot-compose a Prince song called "Bad Vasectomy"?

Or leave the room and then come back in to decipher the phrase "snowboarding with the theory of relativity on Silly Putty," in character as a radio guest?

Improv "games" based on audience input — such as Brady’s star-making TV vehicle, "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" — is a genre no one else is attempting on the Strip. Brady and Mangum have worked together so long they’ve filtered out most risk of a bit falling flat.

They have an old comedy team’s rapport with their telepathy and occasional put-downs: "You have the memory of an 87-year-old man," Brady tells Mangum after an attempt to "rewind" an entire sketch in reverse doesn’t run as smoothly as usual.

It’s as disposable as it is frenetic, not the kind of show you’ll remember in specifics or go home quoting. The two are more like magicians than stand-up comics.

But there’s a breathless quality to content created in the moment, such as Brady’s piecing together a whole minimusical about an audience member (on this night, a Kohls retail manager) in the musical genre of her choosing (jazz).

And he still found time to interrupt himself and chase after another patron, who tried to slip past the front of the stage on a restroom dash. She tried again later, and once again he caught her, to an even bigger uproar. "Really?" he asked, milking it like a schoolmaster.

It can’t hurt to get the audience involved in an era when "reality" TV has the traditional sitcom on the run. People aren’t as shy as they used to be, and the audience was collectively on the edge of its seat trying not to yell out the words "Silly Putty" when Brady couldn’t remember the name of "the stuff that comes in the egg."

Even without the full band and costume changes, Brady sticks with his closing tour de force: using titles submitted by audience members to improv songs by Creed, the Rolling Stones, MC Hammer and Prince.

Decent singing impressions composed on the fly? It’s your final reminder that yes, this guy can just about do it all. Until someone who can do it better comes along, Las Vegas will just have to take him when he’s available.

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