Club Atlantis opened Friday night at the Peel and Maissoneuve address of the late Club Element. By all accounts, Atlantis has potential, despite its inauspicious location outside the traditional party gauntlets. Otherworldly lights, sound, and scenery make it a decent destination (on a 'special night'), though there's no telling how long the lost city's resurface will last.
The mythical (because it's not real) underwater (because it's under water) kingdom of Atlantis was lost when its inhabitants voted to demerge in an annual referendum. The fragmented pieces of the city were then unceremoniously lost down the bathtub drain where they remained lost until a savvy group of club promoters reassembled the pieces into a downtown nightspot.
This has been universally regarded as risky business. Club Element floundered ignominiously in that location despite its imaginative interior, yet the new ownership has spared no expense on Atlantis's reinvented accoutrements.
The interior fascinates. Three bars surround the silver-as-a-fish-hook dance floor. One of the bars appears built from still-glowing igneous rock while another is backdropped by an aquarium full of unhappy tropical fish. The lovely Karina (a party maven who prefers the Vatican) said she liked the aquarium best because it reminded her of the ocean out of which she recently crawled on her protolimbs.
The crowd, composed mostly of club-hopping 'sharks,' indulged in the opening night bells and whistles. Live Arab dancers and an in-house Tam-Tam drummer energized the crowd. State-of-the-art sound and lighting was not lost on the throng, even as it became woefully inebriated thanks to the open bar. The sharks agreed, in an impressively coordinated display of fin gyrations, that all-in-all, it was a good night.
Perhaps, however, like a parking ticket or an ex-girlfriend's phone number, the city of Atlantis was better off lost. Instead of being shrouded in exotic mystery, Atlantis is now shrouded in industrial fog, toxic tobacco smoke, and, oh yeah, tackiness. I heard a lot of the usual complaints on Friday night, especially that it takes too long to get a drink, which means that the management hasn't done all it could to restore Atlantis. A night at Atlantis was like free-diving too deep. When you emerge, your ears ring like an unattended cell phone, your stomach feels like it's folded in half, and you're all-too-eager to come up for air.
:: Rant, Rate and Review Club ATLANTIS ::