I didn’t care much for Celine Dion during her mid-’90s heyday. While she was singing ballads about love, loss, and sinking cruise ships, the multi-disc CD changer in the trunk of my car was packed with albums by the likes of Van Halen and Alice in Chains. Power chords and distortion were the soundtrack to my youthful angst.
Years later, I no longer operate compact discs from my trunk, but I still don’t have a Celine Dion playlist on Spotify. Yet something’s missing. Las Vegas isn’t quite right without Celine Dion around. I’m even more sure of it now that the singer’s back in the spotlight to promote the release of a new documentary: “I Am: Celine Dion,” which chronicles her career and the medical condition (“Stiff Person's Disease”) that derailed it.
We talk a lot about the American dream, but in many ways, Celine Dion represents the Las Vegas dream. The Québec-born singer sold more than 200 million records, grew into a global concert attraction, and at the height of her drawing power, came to Las Vegas and showed that a Strip residency wasn’t something reserved for a career downswing.
She performed more than 1,141 shows between 2003 and 2019 at Caesars Palace, setting an example for the likes of Bruno Mars and Adele on the Strip. But while performers come and go, Celine Dion never left. She continues to raise her kids at the Lake Las Vegas home she bought with late husband René Angélil in 2003.
The star was set to launch a new residency with the opening of Resorts World (at a theater she helped design), but never took the stage. She has been unable to perform in public since 2020, yet a recent candid appearance on NBC News suggests a comeback of some sort is in the works — and watching Celine sing an impromptu “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” in the courtyard of the Lake Las Vegas Hilton made even this inner metalhead smile.
I’ll watch the new documentary and maybe one day, I’ll watch Celine Dion perform again onstage. She represents the best of Las Vegas and is giving what she can to fans — first her talent, now her vulnerability — in a way all of us should admire.
Call me a fan.
