Press Release
The Sunday Times , 2000
Last minute magic

The Sunday Times 2 January 2000
Last minute magic
The idea was that gentlemen abed would think themselves accursed they were not there. That those having a few chums over for dinner would feel a little cheap. And even the party people living it up in the town centres would feel a tinge of regret that they were not at the dome, the country's most prestigious new year knees-up.

But some of the 10,000 guests, unpacking their quarter bottles of complimentary Tesco champagne on Friday, could be forgiven for wondering whether they really were at the best party in town.

The celebration only got going when it was nearly over. At 10 minutes to midnight, the Queen officially opened the dome by sending eight school children sprinting down a raised walkway to pull down large yellow ribbons that adorned the stage where the likes of Mick Hucknall, Stephen Fry, Jools Holland and the orchestra of the English National Opera had been performing.

It was the signal for the arena - then relatively subdued - to burst into life. The coloured backdrop surrounding the entire concert hall fell away to reveal fireworks. There was wild applause and a gasp or two. Even the Queen remarked: "How clever."  At midnight the crowd linked arms to sing Auld Lang Syne, the Queen joining hands with the prime minister and the Duke of Edinburgh.  Then suddenly the arena was full of dancers in huge butterfly costumes.

A couple of dancing Portugese men-of-war appeared on stage, not something you see every day, followed by jugglers and something that looked as if it might have escaped from Salvador Dali’s version of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.  Then a sheet of cloth was lowered from the ceiling, revealing figures attached to wires inside.  This heralded a ballet, 145ft above the arena, with two acrobats - Jean Paul Zacarini and Abigail Yeates - hanging from wires, lit up by spotlight and gliding through the semidarkness.  The whole ceremony was like something the French might have put on for the Olympic opening ceremony: weird, but a spectacle.... Ah, if only the rest of the evening had lived up to this.
© The Sunday Times 2000


The Daily Telegraph Saturday 1 January 2000
Doomsday fears are dispelled by a magical night at The Dome
IT has to be admitted that the prospect of the Dome's One Amazing Night wasn't regarded with unmixed joy in our house. Edward, the six-year-old, was looking forward to it with undisguised glee, if only because it guaranteed that he would be going to bed far later than ever before. His mum and dad, however, weren't entirely joking when they began to refer to the grand opening celebration as Doomsday.

It creeps up on you, millennial tension. The other week I found myself furtively stockpiling candles and bottled water. And it has to be said that the bossy instructions of the New Millennium Experience Company about travel arrangements and the fiasco over the delayed issue of tickets and security passes did little to assuage one's anxiety.

It's a strange party where invited guests have to congregate in a bleak East London Underground Station and go through rigorous security procedure before boarding a sealed train to the world's biggest tent. And at the back of every neurotic's mind last night was the nagging fear of a terrorist outrage. What a prize the Dome would be to the murderously disaffected.

Yet though I was pretty unimpressed by the Dome when I attended one of its rehearsal days before Christmas, there was no mistaking the buzz in the place at last night's opening. It seems far more exciting at night, when it is dramatically and spookily lit, than it does on a drizzly afternoon. And though it is easy to mock Blair's brave new Britain, there was something admirable about the decision to ensure that members of the public outnumbered the VIPs and sponsors, and that amateurs as well as professionals were part of the 1,026 strong company of the opening show.

If you were feeling cynical, you might well argue that the show's bill neatly encapsulated the present administration's desperate determination to be all things to all men. Classical music was carefully balanced by pop, the entertainment was impeccably multi-cultural and, naturally, pride of place was given to "the kids".

One might also add that the line-up was distinctly short of star power and one wonders how many rejections the creative team received from famous names who conveniently found themselves otherwise engaged. Dennis O'Neill and Rosemary Joshua are admired opera singers but they are hardly household names. Jools Holland is an amiable fellow and a fine musician but he hardly has the charisma of Elton John (for which relief, much thanks, some might add).

British pop music seemed to me to be seriously under-represented. What were that blandest and most tooth-rottingly cute of all Irish bands the Corrs doing on the bill? And why was the peculiarly creepy (if loyally Labour) Mick Hucknall on it? On a night like his one wants national institutions - Sir Paul McCartney, Sir Cliff Richard (even if it did mean enduring his Millennium Prayer) and perhaps, to add a welcome touch of gnarled decadence, the Rolling Stones, who now seem to be at least 1,000 years old.

The nearest thing to a national institution on stage last night was Stephen Fry, the comedy world's much loved equivalent of the Queen Mother. He performed an engagingly garrulous spot, urging us to crush the sunglasses of cool and cynicism beneath our feet. After George Harrison's injuries, the choice of All You Need is Love as the last pop song before midnight seemed unfortunate.

Nevertheless the show undoubtedly transcended its limitations. The vast multi-level stage, with its massed choirs, swinging rhythm and blues big band and orchestra of the English National Opera under Paul Daniel were all impressive. The highlight was the recently knighted John Tavener's A New Beginning, which turns the bland Millennium Resolution into a choral work of rare spiritual beauty and power. The composer had also altered the words, adding specific references to The Lord.

The simple prayers led by the Archbishop of Canterbury and children from Barnardo's were also a welcome and moving reminder of what the Millennium is really about. The great singer Willard White's passionate rendition of Amazing Grace and Heather Small's heartfelt singing of Let It Be were further highlights.

As midnight approached, the Queen dispatched eight local schoolchildren who ran across the auditorium to release the huge golden drapes surrounding the amphitheatre, revealing the whole vastness of the Dome amid a spectacular display of fireworks. It was a truly magical coup de theatre that brought a gasping audience to its feet.

And once midnight struck, all hell broke loose, with a spectacular Notting Hill Carnival style routine featuring a huge fake snow storm luridly kitsch costumes, thumping Latin American music and the much heralded erotic aerial ballet.

Millennium voyeurs were in for a disappointment though. Despite the slavering advance publicity, the airborne lovers didn't appear remotely naked. Sensible underwear was the order of the day, but then the Dome doesn't believe in letting people get too excited. Though that certainly didn't stop Edward looking as though he had just had the finest night of his life.
The Daily Telegraph © Charles Spencer 2000