An Irishman's Diary

NO SOONER do I announce a major restructuring of my naming arrangements for the former Lansdowne Road, aimed at reducing “Aviva Stadium” references by 50 per cent, than the corporate rebranding of another well-known Dublin venue is announced.

Henceforth, apparently, we are to refer not to the Grand Canal Theatre, but to the “Bord Gáis Energy Theatre” instead. And although this is hardly an exact parallel with Lansdowne — the GCT name has not been sanctified by 100 years of usage, or even 10 — it’s still an alarming development.

On the plus side, this name change is unlikely to win popular currency. Yes, I know we thought that about Lansdowne too. But if the “Bord Gáis Energy Theatre” is tripping off the tongues of Dubliners three years hence, I’ll eat my hat. No: the most the sponsors can hope for, surely, is that the new name will be respectfully abbreviated. And even that may be impossible.

After all, the most logical acronym would involved calling it the B(e)GET, with unfortunate results, eg: “Sorry, I won’t be home for dinner this evening, darling — I’m going out to B(e)GET with a crowd from work.” Or: “I know we hardly know each other, but why don’t you come to B(e)GET with me tonight? You seem like the type who’d be into that.”

I’m tempted to suggest the renamed venue may have to practice safe theatre. Then again, I see that forthcoming attractions include Handel’s Messiah, a tribute to The Carpenters, and a “The Snowman Christmas Special, with Nicky Byrne”. You can’t get much safer than that.

Failing an abbreviation, the next most likely scenario is a nickname. “The Gasworks” must be 5/4 favourite, referencing as it does both the sponsor and the theatre. But so far as I know,

and uniquely among Dublin landmarks, the Libeskind- designed structure itself has yet to acquire a popular name, which is long overdue.

It’s as if the multi-faceted shape, or the contrast between the glassy architecture and its gritty inner-city surrounds, has defeated the wit of Dubliners (even though “the Diamond in the Rough” was staring them in face).

In any case, maybe the rebranding will help. My money is on the building now becoming known as the “Gastropod”.

But back to begetting, and another safe prediction is that if the sponsorship is in any way successful, it will indeed spawn further atrocities, and not just with buildings. When the inevitable Westlife reunion happens, for example, I can see them re-emerging as the Bord Gáis Energy Boyband. Although, to be honest, I’d be more worried about the theatrical precedent.

Sure, the GCT is not exactly Shakespeare’s Globe. Even so, it’s in the same general area.

Thus we may yet live to see the Nivea for Men Theatre or the I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter Playhouse. And from there, it’ll be a short step to renaming the plays too.

Gazing into my crystal ball, I foresee a bank-sponsored version of a certain Oscar Wilde classic, retitled The Importance of Earning Interest. As for Shakespeare, well, he set himself up for this kind of thing the day he conceded that a rose by any other name, etc.

In his case, it may start subtly, in the form of strategic partnerships. You'll see the Clare Chamber of Commerce sponsoring The Merchants of Ennis, perhaps. Or maybe there'll be a The Taming of the Shrew,in association with Rentokil.

Then it will be open season. Big Tobacco and its likes will get involved, and before you know it, one of the Bard’s greatest tragedies will be renamed Hamlet, or something equally stupid. Mark my words, it’ll happen.

Speaking of tragic drama, the 2011 presidential campaign is at last drawing to a close with, Shakespeare-style, bodies littering the stage. But avid consumer of all art forms as I am, it's in cinema, not stage drama, that I see the aptest metaphor for events to date. Yes, step forward Kurosawa's 1954 classic: The Seven Samurai.

Fellow cinephiles will know that the film starts with a rural community in crisis, as marauding bandits threaten to steal the hard-won harvest. The desperate villagers send for help, combing the country for natural leaders who will defend them against the threatened disaster. Unfortunately, many of the best qualified candidates dismiss the job as beneath them or not worth the risks.

Finally, by a mixture of accident and design, a motley septet of volunteers is assembled. These include Kambei, a wise but war-weary soldier: Kyuzo, a stone-faced man of great mettle but little charisma; Heihachi, a witty and amiable character, though unskilful as a fighter; and so on.

In the end, they save the village, although most of them are killed in the process. And as the film closes, the three surviving Samurai watch the happy villagers planting another year’s crop, whereupon Kambei — sad but (even) wiser — concludes: “The farmers have won — not us.” Of course, the bit of the metaphor about the village being saved doesn’t quite hold up in a contemporary Irish context, whatever Nicolas Sarkozy thinks. But otherwise, the similarities are uncanny.