By snoadmin
The “Lord of the Dance” made his floor-stomping debut at the Long Beach Terrace Theater on Monday night, in the first of the company’s two-night showcase.
The show is a loose arrangement of skits showcasing Irish folk performance art, from the hiccupping sounds of Donegal fiddle solos to the trademark jig and reel dances that made creator Michael Flatley so famous in “Riverdance.” It’s an intricate and mesmerizing recital of Celtic tradition that goes beyond your average theater show.
While “Riverdance” and “Lord of the Dance” might evoke a smirk or an eyeroll from most students, the show definitely deserves more street credit than it gets. Sure, the costumes are covered in rhinestones, but let it go. The characters are actually engaging (how could you not cheer on a guy winning a dance competition?), and the dance routines make the storytelling more kinetic – come on, musicals are the action and thriller genres of stage performance.
The stage starts as a fantastical wash of mist and green psychedelic strobe lights, just before the troupe is ushered in slamming its feet to dance routines that require more concentration than the final levels of “Dance Dance Revolution.”
Understanding the show’s theatrics made me realize just how much my tastes have matured, and how sophisticated the symbolism in a stage performance’s choreography really is. When guys are dancing together it means they’re fighting, and when guys are dancing with girls it means they’re having sex.
It’s so cultured. I love it.
The performance involves no narration, and gives itself the broad designation as a struggle between good and evil. It makes for a deliciously simple plot, which is really all you’d want when trying to follow the complex rhythm and dance patterns of the fast-paced show. The audience wanted little else in the way of storyline, and seemed content just booing the bad guy and cheering the bold and somewhat cocky Lord as they battled in a sort of Irish fantasyland, or, as the finale’s title would suggest, “Planet Ireland.”
Prepare yourself for a spoiler: The Lord won. After a grueling toe-tapping showdown with his archenemy Don Dorcha, or, as I had named him before I consulted the program, “The Dick Who Stole the Lord’s Belt,” the Lord of the Dance reclaimed his title. Even with a look of total exhaustion, he picked up his feet again and lived up to his name. The stage flooded with gold light, and he tapped himself off to retire to the land of sexy wood nymphs. I’m hoping for a similar send-off after finals week.
The show proved to me that there’s nothing hotter than a good old-fashioned dance-off. A few minutes of Irish jigging might fatigue a normal man, but the two-hour performance by the cast of Michael Flatley’s “Lord of the Dance” translates into nothing less than raw sex on stage.
