Oh, and make sure you are at maximum tissuage*.
A few things that struck me after watching it a (ahem) few times. I wonder how many people we see singing aren't the ones who practiced for the event. I, myself, could have sung any of the parts, having worked out a simplified, four-part version for kazoo that was to be performed one Christmas Eve a very VERY long time ago that never came to pass because of the refusal on the part of
Anyway, this time of year, every church tries to whip its choir into shape enough to wow the Christmas Eve crowd with a passable version of the Handel classic and, thereby, inspire the once-a-year folks to sign on for the duration. So I figure there had to be a few church choir members in the food court crowd who, upon seeing the spontaneous outbreak of a piece they knew, stood and joined the singing.
Then there is the standing thing. I've seen a lot of comments on the internet about how rude it was that so many people didn't stand. Standing during the Hallelujah Chorus is a tradition, not a sacred rite. If this had occurred at my local mall, the lack of standing would have been the same. Most men don't around here don't bother to remove their hats during the Star Spangled Banner either.
It made me laugh to see the people in the background actually fleeing the area, as if they were terrified they'd be charged for listening to Handel without having to choke up a "love offering."
What did touch me, though, were the parents with children. I got a little weepy watching parents make some gesture or sign to their children telling them to pay attention -- "this is special; this is a moment." Watch how many parents reach out and touch their children in some way; they're so aware that this mundane shopping day suddenly became a gift that would never leave either memories.
I have to admit, if this were to occur in our local mall, while Dirtman and I would enjoy the performance, just about every other Linguini would be heading for the door. John Boy would be afraid a sing-along was about to break out. Dark Garden would balk at the idea of sacred music being inflicted upon him while he was doing a chore he hated in the first place. As for the Small Assorted Cratchits (which is what we call the Heirs and the Twins this time of year), duct tape over their mouths might be be wisest course of action.
In stark contrast to the organized and grand version of this perennial classic that is sweeping the web, I offer this older, more rustic version by the Roches (whose Christmas performance in Northern Virginia I swear I will attend one day when I grow up). It's not quite as full-bodied as a mall full of singers, but mesmerizing by its own merit.
*"Tissuage is a word because I say it is.