Les Folies Bergere opened at the Tropicana in 1959. Take a moment to appreciate that thought. The show outlasted many now-imploded hotels. It stayed alive through ten presidencies and a bunch of wars.

Over the years the details have changed – new dance routines, new music numbers, new costumes. But the primary formula remained pretty much the same – beautiful women parading around topless in feathered and sequined getups that made Liberace jealous. (We joke because we love).

But in 1959 you couldn’t see dancing, singing, big production numbers, and real live breasts other than maybe on your wife if you were lucky. Today you can see dancing, singing, big production numbers and real live breasts on most cable channels. But they had to be doing something right to last that long in Vegas, where the “next best thing” is always nipping at your heels. It’s been a few years since we’ve seen it but our recollection of the show has always been a respectful shrug. It’s fine – not the best show in town but not the worst by a long shot.

When we got a chance to see the latest incarnation of Folies we were pleasantly surprised to find that it has improved with age without the need of Michael Jackson's plastic surgeon. (Love, love, love).

Don’t let the Tiffany Showroom color your judgment. It has certainly seen better days (as has much of the hotel) but you can soak up the Vegas traditional showroom layout (high-backed booths and long cramped tables) and pretend it’s 1973. But you’ll have to do it either sober or serve yourself – there is no cocktail service in the showroom, so schlep to the bar early – the line can get long.

The current theme of the show is to “spotlight the grace, mystique, and allure of women through time.” Note the quotes – someone actually says that. Yeah, we know - kind of cheesy. But what it all boils down to is an excuse to put the dancers in various period costumes from the ball gowns and tuxedos of the 19th Century to the, well, ball gowns and tuxedos of the 21st. Ball gowns and tuxedos never go out of style – they just get less puffy.

The company features a male and female lead singing team that act as your time-machine tour guides, a male and female pair of lead dancers, a team of male and female dancers some of whom appear topless and others who don’t, a team of acrobat/gymnasts who double as dancers, and a variety act or two to mix things up a bit.

As usual, some of the details may have changed between the time we saw the show and the time you see it, but this should give you an approximation of what you're going to witness.

The show starts slowly – their opening of “Hot” to the tune of N*Sync’s “Pop” couldn’t have been less sexy if they tried with a cadre of topless women appearing as if in their dressing room getting ready for the show. Our primary reaction was that more than one of the women needed to eat something, quickly. A cracker… anything.

Next we zip off to the 1850s and a ballroom dancing number that is not terribly interesting but elegant in a stuffy kind of way.

It’s the next scene where things kick into gear. A white-flocked forest is the setting for our lead dance team to do a stunning, evocative, emotional adagio while “snow” dusts the stage. It was as lovely as it was intended to be although we have to state that the breasts become superfluous with something like this – almost a distraction.

Then we zip ahead a few years to the Parisian café where a Can Can number boosts the energy up a couple thousand notches. Great dancing mixes with amazing gymnastics to give you your first real clues of where this very talented cast strength’s lie.

We zip past the twenties with the flappers and vamps and the “Hollywood Glamour” of the thirties with the iconic kaleidoscope number (girls on the floor, big mirror overhead).

Then we arrive in the swing era with a fun “Juke Box Jump” number. Let’s just admit it – “Sing, Sing, Sing,” the big band era staple with it’s pounding drums and raspy trumpet opening has to be one of the most evocative and fun pieces of music anywhere. We dare you not to tap your toes. Double dog dare.

The rock and roll of the fifties (complete with poodle skirts and a classic Chevy) segue into the peace and love grooviness of the sixties and then the disco seventies. Apparently they couldn’t find enough skinny ties and shoulder pads to do the eighties because here’s where we take a break for some comedy.

Wally Eastwood – self-described as half Mexican and half southern (“drunk and angry but too lazy to do anything about it”) – is a delight, whether he’s juggling cones, hats, rubber balls, or ping pong balls with his hands or mouth (you have to see it). In between all of this is some laugh out loud humor, mostly self-deprecating in nature although he gets off a couple of good zingers at Celine Dion’s expense.

We could’ve spent another hour with this guy but after about fifteen minutes he’s off and we’re into the finale with the “modern day woman.” It’s too long by about half with ten separate numbers all ending with the grand, traditional finale of the parade of headdress wearing topless dancers down a flight of stairs. We were disappointed with this primarily because the headdresses didn’t look as big as they used to be. We remember those things being roughly the size of a ’58 Buick – what happened?

If you’re coming for titillation (pun intended) you probably won’t find it here. Less than a third of the show (by our estimation) actually features real-live breasts, with the rest of it broken up by the fully-clothed dancing, acrobatics, comedy, and singing. There are other topless shows that offer more in this category but that shouldn’t be why you come to Folies. Instead it should be for the classic Vegas variety show flavor with a really talented cast busting their (smaller) headdresses for your entertainment.