Medium-size Sunday
19/02/07 01:02 Filed in: Carnival
Just this minute back from
Dimanche Gras, that's big Sunday for you language buffs and the
grand finale of the major competitions of Carnival, the King and
Queen and the Calypso Monarch.
This year, as part of an impenetrably sophisticated plan to relocate Carnival far from any of its traditional haunts, the Jean Pierre Complex, the first building created exclusively for sport in this country, was pressed into service as a replacement for the Grandstand, scheduled for demoliton in February last year and still untouched.
A lot of money has been spent to replicate the atmosphere of the Savannah at the Complex, complete with the destruction at least a dozen of the little islands in the carpark that were home to some mature trees.
Dimanche Gras is the culmination of this effort, with additional lighting brought in on scaffolding to address the complaints of the masqueraders, huge screens to project the calypsonian's performances to patrons who couldn't see them, which was pretty much everyone, unless they had line of sight and really powerful binoculars.
What's startling is how much was spent to recreate a formula that doesn't work well year after year and how little anyone seemed to understand what they were doing.
The calypsonians were constrained to one song, which guarantees that they will do their "serious" song, a long, sonorous verse of lament and complaint largely unleavened by rhythm or wit.
To ensure that this the "seriousness" of all this sinks in, the roster of calypsonians has now been lengthened to 15, eliminating any potential for relief that the one-song rule might have brought.
It's instructive that Cro Cro won the calypso crown with the night's funniest song, a witty moan and groan about people who burden him with stuff to carry whenever he travels.
I think one thing really summed up the pointlessness of the night for me.
A dance piece titled "Sailors in their glory" clearly intended to celebrate the good old days of powder and pan proceeded with leaden earnestness to the sounds of a pan side, recorded for convenience, the real thing apparently too unwieldy to accommodate in the programme.
This year, as part of an impenetrably sophisticated plan to relocate Carnival far from any of its traditional haunts, the Jean Pierre Complex, the first building created exclusively for sport in this country, was pressed into service as a replacement for the Grandstand, scheduled for demoliton in February last year and still untouched.
A lot of money has been spent to replicate the atmosphere of the Savannah at the Complex, complete with the destruction at least a dozen of the little islands in the carpark that were home to some mature trees.
Dimanche Gras is the culmination of this effort, with additional lighting brought in on scaffolding to address the complaints of the masqueraders, huge screens to project the calypsonian's performances to patrons who couldn't see them, which was pretty much everyone, unless they had line of sight and really powerful binoculars.
What's startling is how much was spent to recreate a formula that doesn't work well year after year and how little anyone seemed to understand what they were doing.
The calypsonians were constrained to one song, which guarantees that they will do their "serious" song, a long, sonorous verse of lament and complaint largely unleavened by rhythm or wit.
To ensure that this the "seriousness" of all this sinks in, the roster of calypsonians has now been lengthened to 15, eliminating any potential for relief that the one-song rule might have brought.
It's instructive that Cro Cro won the calypso crown with the night's funniest song, a witty moan and groan about people who burden him with stuff to carry whenever he travels.
I think one thing really summed up the pointlessness of the night for me.
A dance piece titled "Sailors in their glory" clearly intended to celebrate the good old days of powder and pan proceeded with leaden earnestness to the sounds of a pan side, recorded for convenience, the real thing apparently too unwieldy to accommodate in the programme.
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