One design setting that is more unusual to find is pure urbanism—that is, the theme is "city" itself. Sociologist Mark Gottdiener counts this among the numerous thematic archetypes in his key work, The Theming of America. He was also keen to note that this theme does not recur with the same frequency of mainstays like Tropical Paradise or the Wild West.
The New York, New York Casino Hotel (NY, NY) is certainly not the only resort on the strip to represent such a specified setting of place. Both The Venetian and Paris that I discussed earlier embody the look and feel of their respective cities—but NY, NY is the only one to stress this overarching sense of urbanism.
In this sense, the resort not only simulates the look and feel of New York City, but environmental details common to all large cities—much like a tropical paradise setting represents all beaches and jungles, even if the theme is further localized to say, the South Seas. Accordingly, the resort's tongue-in-cheek motto is "The greatest city in Las Vegas."
In contrast with the awe and grandeur of Venice or the quaint provincialism of Paris, walking around NY, NY I felt the sometimes unnerving but always lively bustle of life in the big city.
Because I live in downtown San Francisco, one of the largest (and loudest) cities in the country, some of the subtleties of the overall presentation were lost on me. I frequently found myself focusing only on the drawbacks and flaws in the design—in the same way, I suppose, that a resident of Venice would find The Venetian (not only patently fake but somewhat ridiculous).
I've only seen New York City through the eyes of a west-coast tourist, so my own level of scrutiny was far less than a local's might be of this simulated Manhattan. Still, as a city-dweller, I was not very impressed (in the sense of wonderment). There is no fantasy here for me. I fight the crowds, the lights, the noise, the smells of urbanity on a daily basis. NY, NY was about as exotic for me as a trip to the local convenience store, or to my favorite neighborhood watering hole.
Still, much about the design is noteworthy. The exterior of NY, NY is a perfect architectural collage of the city's most well-known and best-loved landmarks.
Unlike Paris or The Venetian, this forced-perspective skyline literally gives rise to the numerous hotel room towers. As a guest, you might stay in the Chrysler Building, for example.
Fortunately, the World Trade Center was exempted from this montage, perhaps owing to their modernist simplicity (all the other major structures chosen are delightfully Art Deco). No need to consider a troubling remodel after 9/11. Both reality and the Vegas representation are now consistent.
On the southwest corner of Las Vegas Boulevard and Tropicana Avenue, a miniature Statue of Liberty stands tall.
Below her, there is a "harbor" complete with water fountains fashioned from NYFD tugboats. Around this area there is also a series a placards which commemorate the victims of the WTC attack.
There is less staging area out in front and around the perimeter of the casino property than resorts like The Venetian or Bellagio. The one exception is a massive, downscaled and compressed span of the Brooklyn Bridge. This prop simulates the real-life walking path of proper wooden planks, and runs parallel to the strip. Unfortunately this area is comparatively shallow and does not recede very far from the street.
Behind this bridge, below the upper skyline hotel towers, sits a more street-level simulation of a vaguely New York-ish neighborhood, complete with the appropriate advertisements and a Broadway-esque theater marquee.
Here is all of downtown New York in one single breath, much the way that Paris combines multiple icons into a singular essence. Yet here, the combined effect is that of a booster postcard. Almost a cartoonish caricature of exaggeration. At Paris, the landmarks are indeed scaled-down, but this is done with particular care, almost a stoicism (it feels even more so that way at The Venetian).
The exterior of NY, NY almost looks as if it was assembled in a toy store, like one of those giant Lego displays of the U.S. Capitol or Mount Rushmore. It's more cute than anything else, and that's probably why the hotel casino draws more of a down-market (though still middle-class) crowd.
Inside, the casino floor and all adjunct areas have a nighttime indoor-as-outdoor effect. This works surprisingly well; it just feels more like a city at night, strange as that sounds. Many of the gaming areas contain Manhattan landmarks. You can play blackjack outside Central Park's Tavern on the Green, for example.
Unlike Paris however, the stage lighting is visible from the black ceilings, and large murals give a sense of depth (but in a movie-set, rather than realistic, fashion).
The main lobby and elevator banks for the various hotel room towers break from this and adhere to a formal 1930s Art Deco style found in many of Manhattan's most famous buildings.
This is accompanied by some stunning atmospheric mural work, again in a 1930s style.
It was particularly enjoyable to sit for a few hours in the "Greenwich Village" section, which is the retail and dining district adjacent to the main casino floor, and listen to the comments of some New Yorkers visiting Vegas on holiday. They ranged from incredulity ("This is [expletive deleted] weird.") to amazement ("I can't believe they actually did [insert particular replica or special effect here].")
In particular, one guy (who sounded like he was from Queens or The Bronx) marveled at a detail that had escaped me initially; the forced-perspective tenements even had appropriately-scaled air conditioners hanging out of the windows.
Although the urban setting was not particularly exotic for me, I did appreciate many of these other small touches—the designers here have done their Disney homework. Parking meters, mailboxes, trash bins and street signs were all suitably authentic.
Prop Vignettes abound, such as this neighborhood hardware store display.
My favorite flourish was the ADT security sticker (a real company) found in several of the street-level apartment windows. Even crime is crucial to properly representing the urban theme in totality.
And let's not forget a healthy does of filth and decay. Great effort was made to distress, mar and otherwise "trash-down" the city to make it believable. A crisp, clean, new New York would be laughed at instantly. This tenement is nice and shabby.
I had read that in the early years, the NY, NY branded manhole covers on the streets actually steamed, but I talked to some employees in the area, and apparently the effect hasn't worked (or been turned on) in some time.
Even for those who have never visited New York, it lives in the American imagination through its continual portrayal in film and television. Curiously, the city's actual streets are far cleaner, and much safer, than they were even fifteen years ago (and light years ahead of the nearly broke murder capital that NYC was in the 1970s).
Yet the thematic representation here in Las Vegas is modeled after those old stereotypes, perpetuated through gangster and action movies. It might be more pop than the real Manhattan, but it's also a shade darker.
Upstairs is an amusement area that pays tribute to the historic attractions of Coney Island in its heyday, complete with a video arcade.
The signature attraction, however, is a large, steel roller coaster—themed like the city's infamous classic Checker Cabs—that winds its way atop the outside of the resort for a fantastic view of the strip, day or night.
NY, NY demonstrates a few things about urbanism as a thematic archetype. Firstly, the appeal of the theme is limited to those who aren't city dwellers. This works in Las Vegas, where scores of visitors flock from the desert, the mountains, and the plains. To someone coming from Los Angeles or Chicago, however, it's considerably less exotic. No big deal, though. The diversity of the strip negates this shortcoming—Arthurian England and Ancient Eygpt are just a bit further down the block.
Secondly, the urban theme draws just as much upon the popular and media conception of a particular time and place as reality. Cities may be dirty, crowded and noisy—but it's more exotic and engaging to play up the dissonance and danger, and thus the drama. New York might seem like a rough (yet exciting) place for someone who's spent their entire life in Nebraska to visit, and a thematic environment representing this fantasy must capitalize on urban stereotypes to deliver the anticipated impression.