Cher offers critic-proof spectacle at Staples Center

Diva says goodbye to the road with a garishly glitzy gig.

August 7, 2002, by Ben Wener, Orange County Register

The Orange County Register picking on Cher is a bit like teasing the mentally challenged: Never mind how cruel it can be – it's just too easy. The quintessential walking-talking fashion faux pas invites harsh ridicule with the good nature of a Wal-Mart greeter, reveling in self-effacement. Consider this quote from one of the many video montages – of her Sonny & Cher days, of her movies, of all that is Her Royal Garishness - that kept Tuesday night's capacity crowd at Staples Center amused while she slipped in and out of 10 costume changes: "Actors don't consider me an actress, singers don't consider me a singer, gay men consider me their best friend." The third part may be a slight exaggeration (not everyone loves an icon), but the first two are hogwash, blatant false modesty she gets away with because her adoring fans prefer that she remain a lambasted underdog; it makes her artistic triumphs, which number more than a few, all the more stunning. True, she may be more of a stylist than a pure singer, yet there's no denying she has a powerful, throaty, unique voice that shames much of what passes for outsized vocalizing today. And obviously only the envious would refute her screen accomplishments; her best actress Oscar speaks for itself. But she really signifies more than both of those occupations combined. She is among the rarified, an instantly identifiable international celebrity, one of the most recognizable stars of the last half-century. And she knows it.

Three songs into her 90-minute show - theoretically the last one she will give in Los Angeles, though word is this victory lap will zip past here once more before she retires from the road – she thankfully dropped the I-ain't-much façade. "I've been a frickin' evil diva for 40 freakin' years," she said. "So gimme a break." Right. She deserves that much. Sure, criticism comes fast and furious. Save for the addition of tunes from her recent "Living Proof" disc, this tour is scarcely different from her '98 outing. And I'd argue that, for a farewell, even some of the drag queens might have been happier to see her in fairly normal garb belting out hits rather than the usual parade of empty glitz. But, then, that just wouldn't be a Cher show - and this one, by her own boast, was "the Cherest Show on Earth."

So let's skip the expected haranguing and cut to the play-by-play. It's all anyone cares about. And it's so silly that slamming it is stupid.

• Costume 1: A gargantuan robe and shaggy headdress, both silver and white and fit for the Queen of Las Vegas, are removed to reveal spangly neo-gypsy gear that eventually is reduced to side-slit pants and a nearly invisible bra. Wig: blond. She looks like Christina Aguilera's mother, smiles with care, so as to display the best her plastic surgery offers, and sings U2's "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For." One can only assume she's referring to something attractive to wear. Next: the incessant house thump of "Song for the Lonely," which gives her dancers, who most resemble Ewoks, a beat to leap to.

• Costumes 2 and 3: Momentarily donning a ringleader's fox-hunt tails and top hat and waving a lion tamer's whip, she soon disappears, then re-emerges amid a Hong Kong circus motif clad in full genie gear. Nearby, Barbara Eden grins. Wig: black. Her dancers, who later prove themselves expert acrobats in the Cirque du Soleil tradition, perform choreography that makes the "Solid Gold" crew look like the Bolshoi. Tunes: a techno-fied "We All Sleep Alone," "I Found Someone."

• Costume 4: Dark purple and black cling wrap with ENORMOUS spiky headdress. No wig. The dancers' outfits appear to have been designed by Edwina from "Absolutely Fabulous" after an especially long bender. Mr. Blackwell would be apoplectic. Song: "Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)," and the spectacle is hilariously incongruous.

• Costume 5: Two-tone purple striped bell bottoms, skin-%tight top, fur vest, ankh medallion. Wig: black. Medley: "All I Really Want to Do" into "Half-Breed" into "Gypsys, Tramps & Thieves" into "Dark Lady." Crowd: wild.

• Costume 6: Slinky chartreuse flapper get-up, complete with head cover. Number: Some disco about heaven. It and the outfit last two minutes, tops.

• Costume 7: Long white gown with blue cross-your-heart pattern, like searchlights. Cher descends down a long staircase singing "The Way of Love." She's rushing from one piece to the next. Clearly this will play better on HBO.

• Costume 8: Hip-hugger jeans with peace symbol attached, white peasant girl top. Wig: Sandra Dee. The music improves, largely because the dancers are absent and she's seated on a stool. Songs: "After All," "Just Like Jesse James," "Heart of Stone," which she says only dyed-in-the-wool fans will remember, and "The Shoop Shoop Song (It's in His Kiss)."

• Costume 9: The not-all-there black leotard and nylons dazzler first spotted in the infamous hey-sailor video for "If I Could Turn Back Time" - and forgive the sexist, potentially ewww-inducing remark, but her 56-year-old rear looks astonishingly fine. One section to my left, Dr. Phil leaps to his feet to see for himself. Wig: curly black monstrosity with a three-foot radius. The finale: "Strong Enough" and … well, what do you think?

• Costume 10: Some outrageous silver lamé outfit that the ladies of Abba would have rejected. Wig: bright red. The encore: "Believe," natch.

And for once it's bearable. "Goodnight … goodbye." Exit. Pleased as punch fans file out, excitedly recounting favorite moments.