Battle of the Irish Dancers review – how dare they leave out Michael Flatley? https://ift.tt/P4A9ojC Sarah Dempster The Riverdance creator’s feet blew away a century of tradition, yet he’s oddly absent from this docuseries about young dancers preparing for the World Championships. Why? ‘Irish dancing was completely different back in the day,” sighs veteran dance impresario Carole Scanlon, flipping wistfully through photos of tremulous adolescents clutching trophies in poorly lit community centres. A montage of grainy news reports backs her up: girls prancing in capes to a cassette backing of Ireland’s gravest fiddles; boys in middle-management waistcoats skipping across tiny stages; porridge-faced judges surveying it all in cufflinks and kipper ties. “Back in the day” is a phrase that pops up frequently in Battle of the Irish Dancers, a three-part docuseries that follows a handful of eager young hoofers as they prepare for the annual World Irish Dancing Championships. The phrase refers, broadly, to the era before Riverdance, the global sensation that launched in the year of our Flatley 1994. The impact of the stage-based extravaganza on the trajectory of Irish dancing cannot be overstated. “It blew everything into a whole different ballgame,” says tutor and former Riverdancer Kelly Hendry, as we watch footage of Michael “Feet of Flames” Flatley’s ankles blowing a century of tradition into a whole different cocked fedora. And now? “It’s the wigs,” says Kelly. “They’ve taken over. Look.” We look. It’s the wigs, we think. They’ve taken over. Footage of Kelly’s pupils rehearsing for a “feis” (dance contest) reveals the extent of the hairy coup. Gone are the home perms of yesteryear. In their place are vertiginous turrets of synthetic curls; each wig an immobile tower bedecked with a Hobbycraft’s worth of spangly whatsits and diamante doodahs. They’re a “practical solution” says Kelly, allowing wig-ees such as 14-year-old best friends Maria and Saoirse to whirl, kick and clomp without being distracted by their own hair’s attempts to escape its moorings and sabotage their hornpipes. It works remarkably well, too, with the spray-tanned proteges seemingly oblivious to the horrors hovering above their scalps. Continue reading... https://ift.tt/LpFVA2j November 13, 2025 at 12:00AM

The Riverdance creator’s feet blew away a century of tradition, yet he’s oddly absent from this docuseries about young dancers preparing for the World Championships. Why?

‘Irish dancing was completely different back in the day,” sighs veteran dance impresario Carole Scanlon, flipping wistfully through photos of tremulous adolescents clutching trophies in poorly lit community centres. A montage of grainy news reports backs her up: girls prancing in capes to a cassette backing of Ireland’s gravest fiddles; boys in middle-management waistcoats skipping across tiny stages; porridge-faced judges surveying it all in cufflinks and kipper ties.

“Back in the day” is a phrase that pops up frequently in Battle of the Irish Dancers, a three-part docuseries that follows a handful of eager young hoofers as they prepare for the annual World Irish Dancing Championships. The phrase refers, broadly, to the era before Riverdance, the global sensation that launched in the year of our Flatley 1994. The impact of the stage-based extravaganza on the trajectory of Irish dancing cannot be overstated. “It blew everything into a whole different ballgame,” says tutor and former Riverdancer Kelly Hendry, as we watch footage of Michael “Feet of Flames” Flatley’s ankles blowing a century of tradition into a whole different cocked fedora. And now? “It’s the wigs,” says Kelly. “They’ve taken over. Look.” We look. It’s the wigs, we think. They’ve taken over. Footage of Kelly’s pupils rehearsing for a “feis” (dance contest) reveals the extent of the hairy coup. Gone are the home perms of yesteryear. In their place are vertiginous turrets of synthetic curls; each wig an immobile tower bedecked with a Hobbycraft’s worth of spangly whatsits and diamante doodahs. They’re a “practical solution” says Kelly, allowing wig-ees such as 14-year-old best friends Maria and Saoirse to whirl, kick and clomp without being distracted by their own hair’s attempts to escape its moorings and sabotage their hornpipes. It works remarkably well, too, with the spray-tanned proteges seemingly oblivious to the horrors hovering above their scalps.

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from The Guardian https://ift.tt/P4A9ojC