{"id":37801,"date":"2011-05-15T17:08:08","date_gmt":"2011-05-15T21:08:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=37801"},"modified":"2011-06-18T11:17:22","modified_gmt":"2011-06-18T15:17:22","slug":"riverdance-back-to-the-beginning","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=37801","title":{"rendered":"Riverdance: Back to the Beginning"},"content":{"rendered":"

I saw Riverdance<\/i> a couple of times when it was here in New York. I also have the recordings of not only the Radio City Music Hall performance (where you can literally feel the production tilt off into cheese) but the original – the show put together at The Point in Dublin. That was the show that started it all (actually, it all began with a brief dance number in 1994’s Eurovision Song Contest, which was held in Dublin). That brief sequence was so electrifying (and if you see the footage<\/a> and try to forget what you now know about Riverdance<\/i>, and the brand it had become, it is not hard to see why) that the public clamored for more. Bill Whelan was hired as full-time composer, and the show was put together. It premiered at The Point in Dublin, and played to sold-out audiences. It seemed that this riverdancing thing might finally be striking a chord in a worldwide audience (as opposed to be a dance that is roundly mocked by pretty much everyone – “It’s so weird, why don’t you move your arms, you look so funny”), so the show was moved to London, where, again, it played to sold-out crowds. Michael Flatley, the big fat puff of air who was the original dancer in the original Eurovision clip and Point production, suddenly exploded into an egomaniac of truly monstrous proportions and demanded he be compensated for the dances he had created with Jean Butler (the other lead), a demand that had not been in the original deal), and he also wanted a piece of all of the profits. He also wanted completely creative control<\/i> of the show going forward. Moya Doherty, the producer, basically said, “Hell to the no, moron”, Flatley was let go, and another dancer was hired at the 11th hour, a world champion Irish stepdancer. Doherty had the presence of mind to realize that it was the show<\/em> that was the star, not one person, and also: really, Michael? Really? <\/p>\n

Once it played Radio City Music Hall, Riverdance<\/i> became a juggernaut that lasted a decade. I saw it once it hit Broadway (having already seen the recordings of The Gate production), and while it was wonderful to see the (what felt like) hundreds of stepdancers stomping in unison – the show seemed to take a different turn as it continued. It became more about celebrating multiculturalism as opposed to celebrating Irish stepdancing. There were germs of that in the original show. The producers had wanted to portray the links between Irish stepdancing and other folk traditions, so they hired 4 Russian folk dancers who stunned the Dublin audiences with their athletic balletic dancing, as well as a Spanish folk dancer, and three American tap dancers. These acts were woven into the whole, given their moment in the sun, and in the finale, all of the different troupes did an Irish stepdance together, which is quite emotional to watch. But my memory of the show on Broadway was that the Irish stepdancing took a backseat to celebrating ALL dance, and in doing so, lost much of its unique appeal. For when you decide to celebrate everyone, simultaneously, you often end up celebrating just an abstraction, a New Age amorphous “Oh, aren’t we all alike” thing. “Let’s have a group hug”. You know what? I’d rather not.<\/p>\n

The original germ of the idea for riverdancing came about when Moya Doherty was approached to create an act-break, essentially, for the Eurovision Song Contest. Since Dublin was hosting the contest, she thought – well, everyone makes fun of Irish stepdancing, especially Irish people, so wouldn’t it be interesting to make it sexy again? Not only introduce this dance to the world in a way no one had seen before, but also to make Irish people take another look at their own culture, especially the most embarrassing part of it.<\/p>\n

You can hear the Eurovision audience erupt at the end of the dance. ERUPT. <\/p>\n

My favorite recording is, to date, that original Point production. Once they came to Radio City, the production values got incredibly bombastic, the lights the epitome of cheese, and everything tipped way way over the top. The glitter, the velvet, the lasers … on their way to Vegas. What I like about the Point production is that it still has the feel of a small local outfit. The stage looks flat and bare, the scenery (while professional) seems basic and utilitarian, and the lights are … well, there are some effects (floating Celtic circles and the like), they seem more gritty and homemade, which add to the charm of the thing. <\/p>\n

Yes, one still must deal with Michael Flatley, who is one of the most annoying presences I have ever had the misfortune to witness. (I hate when he gestures at his own feet, glancing at the audience like, “Wouldja get a load of that?” Yes, Michael, I see your feet. I got it. Okay? I got it.)<\/p>\n

But I don’t want my negative comments about Flatley (who is, after all, an amazing dancer, I’ll give him that – although “Lord of the Dance”? LORD? Really?) to act like a magnet. <\/p>\n

To me, this finale still works. It still has a strange and raw power. This production is fresh on the heels of the Eurovision performance. Most of these are the same dancers that appeared in the Eurovision clip. They are about to ride what would be a giant wave, but here, they are just at the beginning. You can feel that rough excitement in the dancing, in the faces. <\/p>\n

A couple of observations about Irish stepdancing:<\/p>\n

1. I find it charming that Flatley and Butler (who choreographed much of this) clearly couldn’t figure out a way for the two of them to dance together. Each number has the two of them circling around each other, holding each other’s arms, like they’re 10 year old kids. But what that indicates is interesting: Irish stepdancing is a solo affair. Each person dances beside another, but they are self-contained. No touching. No comingling of the sexes, dammit. There are no pas de deux in Irish stepdancing, and Butler and Flatley tried to remedy that by doing their ridiculous circling-thing (about 5 times in the show), but the fact remains: You do this by YOURSELF. Eh, Sinn F\u00e9in, anyone? It’s a metaphor. Dancing is always a metaphor for the culture from which it springs.<\/p>\n

2. I also love how Irish stepdancing, when done by a bunch of people, side by side, gives the audience the feeling that it is about to be attacked, or a grenade is about to be thrown into the seats. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing vulnerable. It is not emotionally accessible. It is fierce. An angry warrior’s dance, meant to intimidate. Feet stamping on the ground, shouting, “Get off my land. Here’s a grenade in your face, ya fuckers!” <\/p>\n

Here is the finale to the Point production of Riverdance<\/i> in 1994.<\/p>\n