Sir Paul McCartney, ex-Beatle, ex-Wing and official living legend, made his long-overdue return to Dublin, older, wrinklier, and wise enough to realise what his public wanted to hear.
Paul McCartney, RDS
Pipes Of Peace? Puh-lease. The Frog Chorus? Fat chance. Give Ireland Back To The Irish? Get away out of that. This was a straight-up greatest hits set from start to finish, two-and-a-half hours of the most familiar tunes known to humanity, and if Sir Paul indulged himself with the odd song from his last album, Driving Rain, the crowd was willing to forgive, and immediately forget.
The "pre-show" entertainment saw people in costumes prancing about the stage, in a loose production that resembled a Kabuki version of Alice In Wonderland, choreographed by Baz Luhrmann. As the tribal drums built up to a climax, McCartney's silhouette appeared behind a screen, arm aloft, his uniquely-shaped bass guitar clearly discernable.
If you've seen the Back In The World DVD, you pretty much know the setlist, and if you paid €105 for a grandstand ticket, then you knew you were getting at least 20 Beatles hits for your money. You also knew he was going to do a few Wings tracks, but you decided to risk going anyway. And, of course, you knew damn well it was going to rain for the first half-hour of the concert, making for a damp, miserable and completely atmosphere-free start to the show.
McCartney opened with a fine rendition of Hello Goodbye, milking its coda for maximum crowd pleasure, then launched into Jet, probably Alan Partridge's most favourite song ever. His very competent band deftly recreated the various phases of The Beatles, from All My Loving to Getting Better to Back In The USSR, but they really shone on such Wings songs as Let Me Roll It, Band On The Run and Let 'Em In. We came to relive Beatlemania, but found ourselves flying, once again, on Wings Over America.
McCartney's voice is still pristine, and his musicianship is still sharp as ever, but his stageside manner often came across as pat, showbiz insincerity. There was a lot of shadow-boxing with the crowd, and those famous thumbs stabbed the sky at every opportunity. He made clipped quips about on-tour massages, and paid his musical respects to John and George, but when he got behind the keyboard and pumped into Fool On The Hill, then a ray of his former greatness shone through the dull Dublin skies.
As the darkness descended and the rain cleared, it finally started to feel as though something special was happening; here was a former Beatle singing Eleanor Rigby, Michelle and She's Leaving Home, tapping neatly into our collective memories and tossing out the classics with masterful ease. All the crowd needed was a match to ignite the evening, and Live And Let Die did the honours, accompanied by onstage fireworks and flames. Let It Be came close to lighting a spiritual flame, and Hey Jude provided the predictable singalong finish. Encores of The Long And Winding Road, Lady Madonna and I Saw Her Standing There put paid to all remaining doubts, and a finale of Yesterday and Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band/The End left us with a warm nostalgic glow. Thumbs up, Sir Paul. - Kevin Courtney
Mermaids, Project, Dublin
Rather like the mythical beings, David Bolger's Mermaids is slippery and elusive. Based on the children's tale by Hans Christian Andersen and the choreographer's own fascination with the sea, the work sets itself up as a physical response to the many layers within these starting points. John Comiskey's design frames the action on a rectangular stage offset diagonally, with the audience on all four sides, creating an intimacy conducive to storytelling.
This highly sculptural setting is reflected in an impressionistic opening where four female dancers - mermaids - set up the land-sea duality. With torsos on the black floor and folded legs on the blue stage they embody the central tension within the myth of the mermaid. But as the piece progresses the act of storytelling become less clear, and the very characterisation of the mermaids remains a problem. These are neither skittish Rhinemaidens nor manipulative Sirens, and their movements remain unembodied. Rather than the movement portraying their inner selves, it seems divorced from their character. As a narrative emerges their intent gets somewhat clearer, but there is still a flatness to the proceedings that is at odds with Bolger's usual theatricality.
Although featuring a talented cast of dancers their performances seem dispirited or stale and there is disengagement and lack of conviction with the material that transfers to the audience. The sweet and sour harmonies and clear emotional weight of Conor Linehan's live music also seems disjointed from the movement, which seems to over-rely on the literalness of Paul Groothuis's soundscape for a dramatic context. It is left to John Comiskey's lighting to sustain much of the performance and the setting never looks short of stunning.
Even the David Bolger-ism of subverting performance convention can't help towards the end, when dancer Jonathon Mitchell suddenly complains to Emma O'Kane that she is doing a movement incorrectly, and they have to re-rehearse it. Ultimately, it is the movement vocabulary and choreographic construction in Mermaids that fail to get to grips with the narrative. Within Coiscéim's existing repertoire of carefully crafted dance works, the result is unusually undynamic and unconvincing. - Michael Seaver
Runs until June 7th
