Popular Culture Review Vol. 16, No. 1, Spring 2005 | Page 9

Behind the Irony Curtain:
Lenin Loses His Head in Las Vegas
The notion of someone “losing his/her head” in Las Vegas is not that
unusual. Indeed, Las Vegas, due largely to its own advertising devices, has long
been hailed as the place to go to escape from reality, to lose oneself in a fantasy
world of legalized debauchery, to act a little crazy, dress scantily, drink too
much, gamble, and carouse to all hours of the morning. Furthermore, big wins
and losses are the rule of thumb; and the local press, perhaps encouraged by the
industry, provides little coverage of individuals who respond in bizarre ways to
sudden, dramatic shifts in their fortunes. But when Vladimir llich Lenin loses his
head in Las Vegas, then it is a story worth pursuing.
The following paper recounts the woeful tale of Lenin in Las Vegas
and attempts to place it in historical context, analyzing it as an example of
observational irony in a postmodern setting. So let us step behind the irony
curtain as we look first at the events that unfolded.
The Events
In March 1999, the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino, built and
operated by the company formerly known as Circus Circus Enterprises, opened
at the southern end of the fabulous Las Vegas Strip. The $950-million, 3700-
room megaresort includes a Four Seasons Hotel, an artificial beach complete
with wave machine, and a theatre designed to accommodate Broadway
productions with Chicago as the opening show. In keeping with the new Las
Vegas emphasis on gourmet dining, the upscale resort also features several tony
restaurants catering to a high-end clientele, including the Foundation Room,
Aureole, China Grill, and Red Square.1
Based in South Miami Beach and created by Jeffrey Chodorow, Red
Square capitalizes on the recent martini revival and offers a selection of some
200 vodkas served at a bar consisting of a slab of ice. Drinks start at $8.00 and
carry such clever monikers as Sputnik One, Moscow Idaho, and Revolution no.
9; the Chernobyl is especially explosive. There is also a glassed-in vodka freezer
kept at -10 degrees with individual lockers for private stocks which rent for
$1500 a year. Patrons are given fur coats and hats or Russian army jackets to
wear into the locker for tasting at the appropriately low temperature.2
Accompanying the vodka is a menu of “updated Russian classics and
perestroika-inspired continental specialties” which have been critically
acclaimed by Gourmet magazine.3 Likewise, local food reviewer Michael
Paskevich noted, “The food is as good as the cool decor.” He further touted the
creative appetizers, including Siberian nachos, but doubted that too many