Magic of the Pants at the Grand Opera House

Last night we saw Magic of the Dance at the Grand Opera House. Advertised as the "Irish Dance Sensation of the Decade", I was expecting it to be cheezy but I didn't expect it to be a big mountain of steaming turd.

It starts out with ominous music and a screen of Celtic images in the background, Christopher Lee narrates (which doesn't fit into the storyline whatsoever). Fog fills the stages and out comes a line of monks marching with torches carrying a woman in white. They then start Irish dancing as a group and she sees her Irish prince and they embrace. And then the devil comes out and he dances and some fairies flit about and throw confetti. All of sudden it segues into the modern harbor where you see 4 New Yorkers dressed in sailor suits and they tap dance on a bunch of oil drums. The New York Tap Dance All-Stars, how they fit into Irish dancing I don't know. Then it reverts back to medieval Ireland more fairies and demons. Then it goes back to Brooklyn, New York where they tap dance with a bunch of basketballs. And then it goes back to Ireland where the young innocent maiden starts singing and becomes corrupted by a bunch of devils. Lots of fire and fog in this scene. She dies and the Irish dude come out all sad and starts doing a jig. And then the fairies come out and she lives again. They get married and live happily ever after. Then the Irish Dancers and New York Tap All Stars do a showdown. The Irish lead dude's shoes burst into flames and dances for two minutes. They do their bows and then the lead guy falls on his ass as he exits the stage. The End.

The highlight of my evening was not only that the leading dude fell on his ass, but being inside the beautiful Grand Opera House with it's painted ceilings and guilded balconies. It was like I was transported back to the Victorian Era. The raspberry ice cream we ate during intermission. And afterwards Mongolian Beef at Red Panda.

I want my money back.