A host of near-naked aborigines, their faces smeared with ash and blood, are dancing and whooping against the backdrop of a crackling fire. The night sky is moonless; the ambient darkness featureless. The very ground seems to resonate to a heavy beating of drums. Several attendants begin to prod and stir the fire such as to create lofting bursts of sparks and embers.
The gathering roars.
Fast forward 100,000 years.
The stadium has been darkened to eerie effect. A host of near-naked aborigines, their faces smeared as if with ash and blood, are stomping and screaming against a backdrop of flashing lights. The very air seems to resonate to a heavy beating of drums. Suddenly the sky erupts with explosions of sound and light.
The crowd roars.
I have a problem with “fast forward 100,000 years.” I would have hit the pause button to let the sights and sounds sink in. Spectacle is the punctuation in the tedious sermon of our existence. We would do better with fewer exclamation points and more question marks (full stop.)