Shibuya Location: Inside MGM Grand. 891-3001. Hours: Dinner only, 5:30-10:30 p.m. Sunday-Thursday; until 11 p.m. Friday-Saturday. Price: Moderate (sushi - $4-$19) to very expensive (a la carte - $6.50-$65). Credit Cards: All Major. Reservations: Essential. Ambience: Elegant, otherworldly design that ranges from a bento box-inspired main dining room to the glittery teppan room to the classic marble sushi bar fronting an almost psychedelic matrix of video screens and Plexiglas cubes.

"Don't try to be too Japanese," was a dictum I heard often during my years in Japan. Little did I realize those words would apply to most of the Japanese restaurants in America.

Within that context, though, Shibuya, MGM Grand's stunning new jewel in the crown of the casino's restaurant row, is as impressive as anything one can expect to find in Roppongi Hills (Tokyo's fashionable new shopping and dining area) or the city of Shibuya itself.

Gamal Aziz, the casino's suave president, was an executive in the food and beverage business when he opened Hyakumi at Caesars Palace and then Shintaro at Bellagio—and he knows exactly what makes a successful Japanese restaurant tick.

He personally named the restaurant after an upscale Tokyo neighborhood and meeting place, known to the gaijin community in Tokyo for the statue of a faithful dog, Hachiko. He also chose the design firm Yabu Pushelberg, the architects of Fiamma, the Italian restaurant just across the walkway.

Even if you're only walking by, the eye-catching design is likely to snare your attention. The front of the restaurant is a glass wall tinted rose-pink by bands of color that, upon closer inspection, turn out to be giant-sized bar codes. Behind the restaurant's magnificent, 50-foot-long white marble sushi bar is a video matrix flashing computerized images of fish, flowers and fauna, all the handiwork of Cirque du Soleil's Roger Parent. Thousands of Plexiglas cubes cover the 55 screens, giving the images an almost psychedelic texture.

George Yabu designed the interior, characterized by a handsomely varnished wood floor, wooden tabletops and undulating floor-to-ceiling ribbons of pine, that look for all the world like they are about to spring to life and speak the name Frodo. Wood lanterns and similarly soft lighting add a subtle glow, and the cloth-upholstered banquettes are as comforting as a Japanese grandmother's rice porridge.

What you will eat here turns out to be somewhat more sophisticated, and the libations—especially when the subject is sake—are esoteric in the extreme. Shibuya happens to be, or so they claim, the first American restaurant to have a sake sommelier. His name is Eric Swanson, a young American who spent years in Japan and is going to try to make you appreciate more than 60 sakes with names such as Shimeraritsuru, Kakunko and Umenishiki. They all are distinctively flavored and consumed at cellar temperature, not warm. Appreciation for sake, like that of wine, is something that has to be cultivated. Let Swanson guide you, and the sakes will further your appreciation of Shibuya's charm.

When it comes to food, the action isn't confined to the sushi bar, as it is in so many of our Japanese restaurants. But the sushi bar is still of note. Chef Eiji Takase is a master of all creatures cooked and raw, and his sushi men are, as well. Five of them toil away, clad in their white caps, rolling nori seaweed and creating sushi innovations like Shibuya rainbow—crabmeat and avocado wrapped in a long rice roll topped with tuna, yellow tail, salmon, fluke, shrimp and eel. Seats at the bar are always at a premium, so if that's your cup of, er, green tea, reserve well in advance.

I prefer a proper table because the other dishes off the main menu are so intriguing. The sushi menu contains all the usual suspects done in the various incarnations: makimono (hand rolls) specialty rolls, sushi and sashimi. The only thing to say about them is that the quality and freshness is unimpeachable, since the fish is flown in daily and chef Takase is constantly inspecting the inventory.

The regular menu is divided into Cold Plates and Warm Plates, each section with broad appeal and Pacific Rim eclecticism. Is it truly Japanese? Sort of, but do we care?

I was fascinated by one dish you practically have to be Japanese to relate to, the "tasting" of seaweed: four different types, each in its own tasting dish, and each a different color. Of the four, only wakame (green and slimy strands doused with sesame oil and red chilies) would bring me back. But I must confess I liked the idea of it.

The tiny and delicate Kumamoto oysters topped with a dab of the peach-colored red grated momiji sauce will bring me back. And so will the Kobe beef tataki, Japan's carpaccio, topped with shichimi (a condiment whose name means "seven peppers") onions, fried garlic and lemon soy, and even organic mushroom salad, composed of three types of Japanese fungi slathered in butter.

Warm Plates have their moments as well, although, as in a good Italian restaurant, the fun of the first courses usually trumps the heartier fare. Traditional tempura is well done, a light, crisp batter and a nice oroshi (grated radish) dipping sauce. The shrimp, five to an order, taste of fresh oil and the sea.

Miso wild salmon comes with crispy ginger and pickled radish. Even better is the sake-steamed Hawaiian snapper, a hefty chunk that literally falls apart when prodded. Other warm fish preparations excel as well. Try the roasted grouper with black beans and leek, or lobster and scallops in uni (sea urchin) butter, which has an iodine tang cutting into an almost impossible richness.

Most of us don't envision a dish such as braised Kobe short rib and seared foie gras in a Japanese restaurant, but this is the way, at $29, one can afford Kobe beef, and it is quite delicious. Sixty-five gets you a Kobe striploin, but I think the Wagyu beef from Oregon, which tends to be limp at times, is not worth the ticketed price.

Shibuya also offers the option of the Benihana thing, in their jewel-like teppan room. Teppan-yaki is what the Japanese call cooking on a flat metal grill, and you've probably seen the guys slicing, dicing and shouting at one time or another. This version features an array of wonderful meats, with lobster miso soup included in the price, and such side dishes as the best vegetable fried rice I've ever had. The downside is being confined to a teppan room, and limited access to most of what Shibuya has to offer.

That includes desserts, which are refreshing, and only vaguely Japanese. Cilantro and pineapple granite is my favorite, a duo of shaved ices garnished with tropical fruit compote, coconut crisp nougat, mango sorbet and a coconut sake emulsion.

Crème brulee tasting is Japanese in stature if not in spirit—a trio of tiny little ramekins with mango, orange and jasmine tea custards that crackle when pierced. But pass on the assorted mochi, balls of gluey rice filled with various ice creams.

Shibuya is bound to succeed big time; it is gorgeous, top notch and well-met. If you are looking for more traditional Japanese flavors, Los Angeles is only four hours down the road, and the real Shibuya a mere 5,000 mile flight due east.