When my sister first brought the Riverdance and Lord of the Dance videos into our home, we thought it was just another crazy dance phase of hers — she was already a keen disco dancer who had accrued a number of trophies and medals with her sequin costumes and up-tempo routines. But, after the obligatory insults and friendly, sisterly scrapes, we gathered around the TV, and as the innumerable legs thundered down onto the stage, we were instantly mesmerised and stunned that Irish dancing could have evolved into something so utterly amazing.
For us, Irish dancing was all hair, dresses and clogs. Each year they held a Feis (a festival) in the town hall in which girls competed against each other, arms dead by their side and legs moving in all directions below them — but whether they were competing over hair, dress and clogs or talent was dubious. The hair, sometimes real, sometimes not, was mostly ginger or red — in keeping with the Irish tradition of red-haired maidens. But I knew no red-haired maidens in Ireland, they were more like orange flamed wild children with pasty complexions, ie, just like the rest of us.
Although watching Michael Flatley’s genius shows didn’t exactly make me and my sisters want to sign up for Irish dancing lessons, it did made Irish dancing look… cool. For once someone had come along and done something with this wonderful dancing that could be digested by people across the world who had no idea why the poor children weren’t moving their arms. Now, there was just no need for arms when the legs were the stars of the show and moving so fast that there was no time for thought.
Well. When I heard that Lord of the Dance was coming to Dubai, naturally I wanted to see if it could match the loving memories I still had for Riverdance and its predecessor. And there was a rumour that Flatley himself would make an appearance.
I took my sister along, not the dancer unfortunately, another one, and we took our seats in the World Trade Centre arena on Thursday, awaiting greatness. But, I’m sad to say, greatness wasn’t what we got. Maybe I’m lacking in some sort of imagination and creativity, but I had no clue what was going on from start to finish. Maybe we didn’t pick up the instructions from somewhere. There were a few dancers, and although they were excellent at what they did, due to the gaping holes in my intellect, I found it hard to understand why there were doing what they were doing. There was a woman and a man and a ‘spirit’ as the main character I guess — the spirit was wearing bright colours and kept throwing some form of sparkling dust everywhere. There was a baddie, who wore armour. And their respective bands of merry men, and women.
So there was a lot of dancing, and fighting in a dancey way, until the boy got the girl. And that was it. Oh and half-way through the show a line of women ripped their clothes off mid-jig. Yes, it was all very cultured and Irish. I guess you can’t fault Flatley for keeping it real, there are many references in Irish folklore about women parading around their villages in black underwear to court their men at the Feis, while throwing in a jig for good measure.
But I’m glad Flatley’s still bringing Irish dancing to the world and giving these talented people the opportunity to showcase their abilities.
The highlight for me was when Flatley himself jumped like a gazelle onto the stage and made the whole arena erupt in applause and cheer. It was the only time that the audience really got excited I thought. My sister and I clapped like crazy people, and although we don’t have red hair, we were Irish maidens again, or pasty wild children depending on your view — just for one night.
