Performance and set appeared kitsch-inspired
A certain George Frederick Handel could well be chosen as the composer for Ireland's next entry in the Eurovision Song Contest. That annual celebration of kitsch certainly seemed to provide the inspiration for both the set and production of Messiah XXI which made its debut on Saturday night.
Within the confines of the RDS's Simmonscourt Pavilion - a trade exhibition hall unable to hide its original purpose - a large area had been given over to a series of stepped platforms on which the singers performed. They were backed by ranks of sail-like structures and tall screens projecting a sequence of constantly changing images.
Above the largest stage hovered the skeletal shell of a giant disco ball. In case the music proved insufficiently engaging, there were also wavy-armed dancers, a narrator, several small children, sign interpreters (only intermittently visible) and an elaborate arrangement of lighting.
The whole occasion was obviously designed more with a television audience than a live audience in mind, and while those who turned up to take their seats were not treated as an irritating inconvenience - which frequently happens at such events - they did have to endure watching camera crews persistently move around the stage and performers.
Still, at least this proved a distraction from the combination of empty seats and bland surroundings. Some, though by no means all, of the former were due to late arrivals who continued to creep into their places until almost the interval.
Even the President, Mrs McAleese, arrived after she was expected to do so. On the first occasion that her appearance was announced, the entire auditorium rose and enthusiastically applauded a line of empty chairs while the National Anthem was played. Mrs McAleese and her party subsequently walked in and the whole business had to be repeated.
Those who arrived after her were obliged to scurry through the hall in the semi-darkness and without applause. Some of them soon took advantage of the interval to leave the hall and not return.
Despite the publicity posters showing Handel wearing a T-shirt, this was never going to be a hip occasion. Indeed, while the clothing code was obviously casual, it inclined primarily to the comfort of cardigans.
By its dress and demeanour, the audience showed a disinclination to follow arranger/conductor Frank McNamara's example and rock along with the music. Polite applause was the preferred form, although the majority of people did take the President's lead when she gave the night a standing ovation. As she left, one less than enthusiastic witness of the spectacle remarked, quoting from the text, "For we, like sheep, have gone astray."
Maybe so, but these sheep then quietly herded themselves up, filed out to the adjacent car-park and drove straight home.
Footnote (literally): This writer would like to thank the person sitting in the same row who, obviously finding the heavy percussion of the music insufficient, thoughtfully tapped out the beat of almost every tune on the wooden flooring.