Date: Wed, 13 Nov 1996 14:06:57 -0500 (EST)
From: Louis N Proyect <lnp3-AT-columbia.edu>
Subject: M-I: Social Text Favorite Plays Las Vegas


Last weekend, in a spirit of excess and obscenity, French philosopher 
Jean Baudrillard took to the stage at Whiskey Pete's Casino in 
Stateline, Nevada, as part of a theoretical rave that put theory to the 
test. It was a rare performance for the sultan of simulation, and a 
warmup for his appearance at New York's Drawing Center this 
Saturday.

Baudrillard's show was a highlight of the Chance Seminar, a 
conference of artists and academics that included a performance by 
transgender media theoretician Rosanne Stone (singing her hit "The 
Lady is a Trans"), small-appliance repair workshops, lessons on the I 
Ching, chaos-theory investment advice by Douglas Hepworth, butoh 
dancing, and even more drinking, and of course, gambling.

But the biggest curiosity had to be Baudrillard's debut as a Vegas 
nightclub act. The theoretician took the stage in an Elvis-esque gold 
lame silver-and-sequin-trimmed jacket. The lesser intellectuals rushed 
forward with camcorders, cameras, and fervent enthusiasm. The more 
serious academics kept a safe distance, back near the bar. The few 
exceptions were on the stage with the patriarch, backing him up on 
drums and plastic toys.

Under the pulsing pink and green lights, above the consciously chaotic 
Chance noise band, Baudrillard spoke in French, reading from texts 
flatly, much as he had earlier in the conference--only this time he was 
standing up. A blond woman, wearing an authentic, skimpy Whiskey 
Pete's cocktail uniform, stood several paces behind, translating each 
line into English.

>From time to time, Baudrillard ambled off to recline in a chair just out 
of reach of the spotlight, before resuming his recitations. After several 
trips to the mike, seemingly bored by his own performance, he 
wandered off the stage for good. It was just as well. The fickle 
audience had begun to drift away. Some, in fact, had run off to catch 
P-Funk at the MGM Grand, leaving the faithful and the drunk to 
ponder what it was really about.

(M. Corrigan, "Vive Las Vegas", in Nov. 19 "Village Voice")



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