Mariah Carey: the worst of Christmas has already happened | Culture
Among the collateral effects of Christmas is the eventuality of Christmas concerts. The danger exists, consequently, by definition, by the pure logic of the terminology, so we can not impute to Mariah Carey the entire responsibility of a show like the one that arrived yesterday packaged and with a link to the Wizink Center in Madrid. To the New Yorker we will only have to judge her by making her own excesses come together with those characteristic of the imminent seasonal transition, and in that sense the blonde diva does nothing to avoid before 7,500 devotees a collision of the greatest proportions.
The concert-Christmas-of-Mariah-Carey did not end up being what already the mere succession of these five words would make suspect; It was much more terrible. The mind, in that determined effort to find consolation even in the most disturbing situations, ends up wanting to think that the whole show responded to a self-parodic exercise. But let us assume that no, that this disproportionate soprano of the most pompous, bejeweled, recharged and delirious popular music wanted to offer us exactly what she gave us. No complexes, as they say now. Unceremoniously. Even without a crumb of that Christmas feeling that is piety.
Mariah has always exercised as a divine diva, so we will assume details like that inaugural dress, with little Christmas lights under the folds, which looks like an intersection between Farah Diba and the Disney princesses. A brief review of the memory file leads us to suspect that the WiZink will have lived many better nights, but few so crazy. And the nonsense always plays as a topic of conversation in family meals, if we want to apply the positive thinking of these dates.
The temptation to put on Santa's hat is too powerful among mortals, as in his day, and to our stupor, he showed us even Dylan himself. But let's say that Mariah's artistic profile fits better with tradition, convention and tinsel: she does not have the slightest qualms about setting up the full crib. And so it was, without missing detail: balls, stars, flakes, borders, steaming chimneys, snowmen, anthropomorphic cookies, girls with a smile and pizpireta dancing and even a gospel chorus of movements so jerky that the ads of that carbonated drink in which you are thinking would seem in comparison a film exercise gore.
And so, villancico goes, tummies come, the show oscillates between the seasonal musical, the television special for Saturday night, the open nonsense and the verification, in case we want to add the patriotic factor, that the cutlery it is not a concept exclusive to OT galas. And all this, however much Carey professes here and there his famous ultrasonic cries or take advantage to exhibit power in the field of makeup and styling, unspeakable in the concrete case of the pompoms the white hood exhibited to go with the horror of Silent night.
Christmas, what are we going to tell you, has its little things. After nine years without visiting Spain, a star of international renown can announce with a lot of pompo that his special guest of the day is Santa Claus himself (in person, as in the best promotions of supermarkets). In parallel, their dresses are also gaining in intensity: the third, from Oh Holy night, reddish red; the fourth and final, for the bis of All I want for Christmas, which head of circus track, which allows to boast of good thighs. But everything is so charged that the ephemeral non-Christmas hiatus rings in our ears, in comparative terms, as if Aretha had decided to go down for a while to take a look. Especially in the case of Emotion, a gift out of script derived from that we were before the last bolus of 2018 and the great lady wanted to do her good work at the end of the year.
But let's get back to ours, to have a bear and a snowman break in, like in a children's auditorium, to color the only song of the night. At the final burst of confetti. Yet Hero in English with the promise that "maybe for the next" our heroine will interpret it to us in Spanish. But let's gather good news. The first, that the serenade, even with generosity out of script, stayed at a prudent hour and a quarter. And the second, that with a bit of luck, and without having even tackled even Christmas Eve or the reunions with the wedges, it may be that the most difficult to digest of this Christmas has already passed. Is not it so that a smile escapes us?
