Review: Mexican music hero Luis Miguel channels Elvis in triumphant Target Center show

Elvis is alive. I saw him perform Sunday night at Target Center in Minneapolis. In the body of Luis Miguel, that is.

Miguel, the international superstar from Mexico, has perfected his own version of Elvis moves — grand arm gestures, gentlemanly machismo, spurts of athletic dancing, bursts of gleeful air guitar, mock karate kicks, tantalizing flirtations with fans and, of course, swiveling hips.

Like Elvis, Miguel embraced a wide range of musical styles. He sang with force, control, dynamics, nuance, drama and conviction. The only difference was that Miguel performed in Spanish except for one song (“Fly Me to the Moon”). And, oh, he never said “thank you, thank you very much” or “gracias, muchas gracias” after any selection. But his frequent post-song megawatt smile spoke volumes, lighting up Target Center like an Anthony Edwards dunk.

About 9,000 fans were thrilled that Miguel, a major attraction since his heartthrob days in the early ‘80s, showed up as advertised after red-hot current Latin stars Bad Bunny canceled in March and Peso Pluma postponed this week’s Target Center concert until August.

Miguel, 54, not only evokes Elvis but also Frank Sinatra, Wayne Newton, Michael Bublé, Julio Iglesias, Josh Groban, Tony Bennett, Luciano Pavarotti and Celine Dion. And he borrowed a trick from Taylor Swift by distributing LED bracelets that lit up in multiple colors synced to the music.

The Puerto Rican-born, Mexican-based cultural hero and six-time Grammy winner has been a major touring star since the early 1990s, but this was only his fourth appearance in the Twin Cities. By comparison, he opened this tour last year with 10 concerts each in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and Santiago, Chile.

In his unforgettable 2019 St. Paul concert at Xcel Energy Center, Miguel entertained for an exhilarating 2¾ hours. On Sunday, he carried on for only 100 minutes, but it was a rewarding and memorable cultural experience.

Backed by an 11-man, horn-dominated band and three female backup singers, the suave singer in the black suit, black necktie and white shirt with French cuffs surveyed his long career. The stage was as stylish as the superstar: a clean, five-tiered setup surrounded by video screens of varying sizes. Curiously, Miguel, carrying a microphone in his right hand and his ear-monitor control in his left hand, mostly faced the audience to either side of the stage rather than the fans on the main floor.

Appearing without an opening act, Miguel kicked off the show with the boogie soul of “Será que no me amas,“ his reworking of the Jacksons’ 1978 tune “Blame It on the Boogie.” Before the night was over, he offered his romantic ballads, buoyant pop numbers, disco workouts, mariachi tunes and duets via video with a vibrato-y Michael Jackson on “Sonrie” (“Smile”) and Frank Sinatra on “Fly Me to the Moon” during which Ol’ Blue Eyes’ vocals were louder than Miguel’s. That was surprising because for the rest of the night Miguel delivered with superbly controlled volume and heightened drama that was part opera and part Telemundo soap.

El Sol de México, as he is known, touched on 33 songs, though 20 of them landed in medleys. One of the highlights came when a 14-man mariachi troupe, in their traditional outfits, offered “La fiesta del mariachi” before Miguel joined them for his festive ranchera “La Bikina” (which featured a Mexican flag on the video screen and red, white and green streamers raining on the crowd) and the medium tempo “La media vuelta.”

That got Miguel all wound up for the peppy home stretch, with the hyper-dramatic 1989 hit “La incondicional,” the disco-y “Te propongo esta noche” (featuring giant balloons tossed into the audience), the sing-along “Ahora te puedes marchar” (his 1987 Spanish remake of Dusty Springfield’s 1964 classic “I Only Want to Be with You”), the upbeat “Isabel” and the bouncy “Cuando calienta el sol.”

As the crowd chanted “encore,” Miguel remained on the stage for nearly two minutes, smiling, blowing kisses and waving. The hero, who never spoke all night, mouthed “gracias” and then left the building.