TUESDAY afternoon, and the usual tails of traffic twist north and south of the Edmund Ignatius Rice Bridge in Waterford. The traffic creeps across the Suir at a point where a man called Roche, one of the defenders at the siege of Derry, was first granted ferry rights.
Crossing Rice Bridge from the north, you swing left on to the quay. Along the quay front, you pass the Granville Hotel, Clock Tower, Post Office, Jordan's pub and other certifiable Waterford landmarks.
At the far end is Reginald's Tower, a reminder of Waterford's Norman past. It was here that Aoife married Strongbow, and we're all still at "the afters" of that particular day out. Today the drama is elsewhere; just along The Mall from Reginald's Tower is the Theatre Royal.
If he had a black jacket to accompany his blue jeans and T shirt, Frank Connell could pass as a member of one of Waterford's great institutions, the Freewheelers' Motorcycle Club. As it happens, he is involved in one of the other great institutions, the Waterford International Festival of Light Opera.
Frank Connell, crew cut and, bearded, is standing centre stage at the Theatre Royal, home to the festival. He is stage, manager for a production of Chess, which is set to open in less than six hours time. Around him a small army of volunteers hump and haulsets props, costumes, lights, video gear, musical instruments, cans of paint and a variety of objects only the crew can identify. Frank Connell seems very calm, although the scene gives little cause of optimism.
In real life, Connell is personnel manage at the local Bausch and Lomb eyecare plant. As a stage manager with the Stagefright Company, which presented Chess at the recent festival, he brings the professionalism of his day job to the near anarchy of the amateur musical scene.
Show Business
Because of thousands of people like Frank Connell scattered throughout this island, the local musical society still survives in Irish urban life. Admittedly, most musical societies have known better days. Yet their very survival indicates a heart beating somewhere. Perhaps even if you have a day job, there's still no business like show business.
The Waterford international Festival of Light Opera is a competitive event. For 38 years, musical societies from home and abroad have staged their show for the benefit of near capacity audiences and of course the all important adjudicator.
Today the festival is a combination of amateur zeal and old world charm. Back stage, the sartorial choice of participants is contemporary jeans and logo emblazoned sweat shirts. In the foyer, members of the organising committee are more likely to be found in evening suits complete with long service medals.
This being its 38th consecutive year, the Waterford International rival of Light Opera can certainly look back on its past with a mixture of pride and nostalgia. The memories of the great societies performing the great shows are still warm in many memories. The Welsh were always especially welcome for the buzz they brought to the city.
Times have changed, and the festival is under pressure on a number of fronts. The cost of mounting shows has escalated the cost of bringing them to Waterford has become prohibitive. This narrows the choices open to those selecting the programme, and, boy, can a festival audience spot a bad show.
Compelling Attraction
The local business community wants the festival to become something it Just cannot be, a big money spinner along the lines of major national festivals. While it may not spread its influence throughout the city, it still remains a compelling attraction for the creative energy of those taking part in only 45 minutes, the curtain will rise on Stagefright's production of Chess. Remarkably, Frank Connell is not to be found back stage frantically pulling the show together. He and his crew are in the nearby Monster Bar, calmly finalising their battle plan. This is a nerve racking time for a show at any time; at the festival the adrenalin pumps even harder. One has to admire the crew's outer calm.
Back in the Theatre Royal, the audience is gathering. Larry Fanning, chairman extraordinaire of the Royal, is sorting out the usual ticket problems and welcoming a stream of familiar faces. Although he would not thank you for saying it, Fanning is an institution in his own right and he also owns one of the finest collections of old opera records around.
Stagefright has a young membership, performing a new generation of shows. Above all else, they have that energy about them which fuelled the festival itself in earlier years. This is their big night; all their energy, creativity and passion explode off the Theatre Royal stage in the form of a musical called Chess.
Afterwards opinion is divided as to whether the show is a festival winner or not, but the smart money is against Stagefright sweeping the boards.
Participation
Later still, in the Festival Club, talk of competition evaporates gas Stagefright swings into an impromptu cabaret. Heading towards dawn, factory workers, plumbers, shop assistants, accountants and people with no job at all sing, dance and vibe to celebrate that they've had the chance to sing, dance and vibe on the Theatre Royal, stage. A sense of participation is a powerful driving force, and it fuels musical societies like Stagefright throughout the land.
The atmosphere is electric, that sizzle created by people performing for the sheer joy of it is in the air. An odd thing is that none of this is rated as particularly correct by those who know about such things.
Frank Connell arrives with his crew after stripping the Royal stage bare. Even as he makes his way to the bar, another crew from another town is installing a set for the next night at the Waterford International Festival of Light Opera.
Someone mentions Zig and Zag, triggering an animated response from an Australian visitor. "Do you have Zig and Zag here too?" she inquires with glee. Amidst much hilarity, the traits, clothing, wit and wisdom of the spring eyed superstars are discussed with gusto. After feeling their way around the edges of trans global common ground for overt an hour, they find a point of real cultural contact through the dynamic duo from Zog.
Like Zig and Zag, the Waterford International Festival of Light Opera has little to do with art. To some, what it is and represents is at the very fringes of artistic acceptability. Still, there's no denying that the festival hits a spot with many people which other art forms fail to touch. Perhaps the spirit of music hall entertainment has survived the technological era in the form of the old reliable amateur musical.
Whatever, outside the Festival Club dawn breaks over the city's waterfront. For performers, stage crews and musicians, at this year's festival the real world beckons. The magic of the night before is whisked away by a morning breeze and only the memory of the performance remains. C'est la vie.