You're referring to what was a sadly short-lived and long-gone installation called Caesars Magical Empire. Here's the story.
The late '90s coincided with the latter years of Vegas’ brief experiment at actively being a family-friendly destination and magic was BIG. 1996 was the year Lance Burton signed his 13-year contract with the Monte Carlo and the same year that Caesars opened a new multi-million-bucks attraction called the Magical Empire, located by the Race and Sports book and what used to be the Palatium buffet.
It was, as the Wikipedia entry describes it, an "extravagantly-themed immersive dining and entertainment experience," with a cavernous atrium (the "Chamber of Destiny") that featured firepits, a wizard, live birds of prey flying around, classical statuary, optical illusions, and a generally mystically kitsch ambience that set the tone before you proceeded into the "experience" itself. Superstition and magic were rife in the Roman Empire and the designers here used a lot of imagination (and dough) throughout -- it was actually pretty cool, as you can see from this promo video on YouTube.
Guests would apparently descend, via an elevator, into some catacombs for the "underground dining" experience. In fact, the elevator was as faux as the catacombs, and the subterraneanness of the attraction was simply another atmospheric illusion.
The show featured relatively well-known talent performing in various forums, including close-up rooms and an intimate theater, while the dinner component maintained the magical theme throughout the meal, with a sorcerer MC, trick menus, séances, and so on. They even kept the magic going when you went to the bathrooms, which featured some funky holographic effects in the mirrors.
Despite the lavish setting and the decent -- sometimes high -- caliber of the performers, Caesars Magical Empire just never got off the ground. For one thing, its obscure location -- shoved, as it was, in a back corner of the casino where it was unlikely to hold much appeal for the sports-betting clientele who hang out there -- meant an absence of foot traffic. Although not super-expensive when you consider it included dinner, the $75 ticket price was still pretty high by contemporary standards and was doubtless a deterrent to some, too.
Schedules were tweaked and promotions launched, but persistent rumors of closure began not long after the venue first opened and dogged it througout its short lifespan. In fact, the surprising thing is that it lasted as long as it did, lurching along until the end of 2002, when the curtain finally fell and the other equally persistent rumor –- that the venue would, in keeping with the new trend in entertainment that had kicked in by then, be converted into a nightclub –- came to pass. The space that was formerly occupied by CME has ever since been the home of PURE nightclub. (As an aside, QoD's hairdresser's assistant mentioned a rumor that PURE was to close, which would come as no surprise to us, since we can't recall hearing anything about it for months, if not years, and being QoD's hairdresser's assistant is just one of the hats the lady in question happens to wear... We'll keep you posted.)
If you enjoyed the magic acts as much as the venue, you can catch one of principals, Jeff McBride, performing regularly in town today, often accompanied by others among the prestidigitators and wizards who entertained at CME, at the regular Wonderground happening, which takes place on the third Thursday of every month at The Olive Mediterranean restaurant on E. Sunset. The show, which features, magic, dance, a live DJ, and more, starts at 7:30 p.m. and tickets are $10.
