The LAFT promised to hand out a million flyers in advertising, but couldn’t afford to finance the Cirque—it would have to perform for a percentage of gate receipts. In short, success would literally open a world of opportunities, while failure would mean, in Halperin’s words, that “the Cirque would have to walk back to Montreal.” Laliberté, as always, took the chance, being sure to maximize his marketing opportunities by sending the cast out to roam L.A.’s streets in costume. On opening night it all worked out, when the likes of Michael Jackson, Madonna and Jane Fonda came. Johnny Carson brought several Cirque performers onto his show, and scalpers started charging $200 for $19 tickets.
In the next few years, Laliberté successfully resisted the siren call of Columbia Pictures (after he realized he would lose control of the Cirque), conquered New York, fought off both an inter-management takeover threat and performer discontent (a 25 per cent raise worked wonders there), and became very rich. But Cirque watchers hadn’t seen anything yet, for Laliberté had developed a Vegas obsession. “He loved everything about Las Vegas,” recalls a former Cirque executive, “from the hot weather to the casinos to the atmosphere on the strip. He knew that everyone who came to Vegas came for one thing: to spend money. Guy smelled success there.” What he needed was the right person to offer the right opportunity.
Rejection by Caesar’s CEO J. Terrence Lanni depressed and angered Laliberté, but he soon found the right match—a fellow Vegas newcomer and gambler much like himself, casino developer Steve Wynn. In 1993 Wynn was about to open the Treasure Island Hotel and Casino. He was looking for a show to generate buzz for his $450-million development; Laliberté told Wynn he had the answer, Cirque’s new production, Mystère. The two men got along famously, and soon signed a 10-year contract. Laliberté now had a permanent home, in the endless sunshine he worshipped, for his circus. Or so it seemed, until, with just weeks to go, Wynn started to get cold feet. Was the show too risqué? Too dark? Too much of a departure from Vegas normality? After watching numerous rehearsals, a nervous Wynn blurted out to Laliberté and Cirque artistic director Franco Dragone, “You guys have made a German opera here.”
Dragone said later he took the comment as a compliment on his artistic vision, but Laliberté knew better. Wynn was threatening to postpone indefinitely the grand opening unless changes were made, a public relations disaster Laliberté refused to countenance. The final weeks turned into a blur for Laliberté, as he desperately raced to make just enough changes to keep both Wynn and his cast and crew onside. On Christmas Day 1993, Mystère opened to glowing reviews. Dragone’s concept, featuring 72 performers exploring the origins of life in the universe and set to a spectacular soundtrack of Spanish, African and east European music, was a hit with fans and critics. The Cirque was now 10 years old, and while it would go from strength to strength over the next 15 years—Laliberté is one of the minority of world billionaires to have increased his wealth over the past, recession-wracked year—he had already made it to the top of the A-list heap.
True to his hard-partying instincts—and his hard-won marketing insights—Laliberté threw what Halperin calls “the mother of all Vegas parties, one he will be remembered forever for.” A long-time friend confided to the author that it had “everything you could think of, including the best alcohol, drugs and hottest women in Vegas. Even if I lived in Alaska and had no money I’d walk all the way to Vegas to be at his party. People would do anything for Guy, so long as he promised them an invitation to his parties.”
The Las Vegas gala set the tone for his future parties even as they grew ever more lavish and elaborate (or, as a friend put it, “better and crazier each time”). Eventually they culminated with Laliberté’s Grand Prix bashes in Montreal, in productions as dazzling, in their own way, as a Cirque show.
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