Livid with Vivid? Its next light-bulb moment must be crowd control

God bless social media influencers. Just when you think you’ve finally summited Mount Stupidity and are left to survey the smouldering wreckage of someone’s abandoned TikTok aspirations, along comes another recent graduate of the College of Have Camera Phone, Will Travel.

That’s not to say their views are not entertaining and occasionally instructive, which, obviously, is entirely the point. All of which brings us to Vivid Sydney, or, if you were one of the fafillion people caught in the stampede for lights over the past week, Livid Sydney. While the city is currently lit up prettier than a drag queen at a Priscilla-themed karaoke night, recent commentary surrounding the event has been a shrill shade of crowd crush chartreuse, as furious punters, variously described in the media as “terrified revellers” and “human sardines”, likened the scenes to “New Year’s Eve … but on steroids”.

The crowd at the Overseas Passenger Terminal after the Vivid drone show on Saturday night.Credit: X/@anth0888

Some of the criticism about the event has been entirely justified. Some has been unmitigated bunkum. An example of the latter was provoked by a young (and apparently ravenous) TikTokker, who provided a running commentary of everything she ate at the festival, including a $35 Brazilian meat box, $23 Birria tacos with extra cheese, a $20 butter chicken jaffle, a $7 masala chai, a $13 crème brulee churro cone, a $14 watermelon with ice cream and a $12 lemonade. Instead of suggesting an urgent enema, a number of her 844,000 followers immediately stuck the boot into Vivid, describing the prices as an “absolute scam”. Presumably the poor girl was too deep into a food coma to even register the feedback.

Other criticisms of the event, relating to its astonishing popularity, are not so easily dismissed, including the genuine fears of a crush sparked by last week’s festival-goers, many of whom described becoming “trapped” near the Overseas Passenger Terminal, with no option but to continue walking in the direction they were being ushered in.

Speaking after Saturday night’s show, festival director Gill Minervini admitted that some people had had an “uncomfortable” experience on what she described as a “very busy” night. There were, however, plenty of police to manage the worst-affected areas, she added, whilst urging future crowd members to pack “understanding and patience” and to recognise their own limitations.

“It will be slow. If you need to stop and have a rest, stop and have a rest,” she said, presumably without pausing to consider the logistical problems associated with a sudden burning need to lie down in a swirling sea of people, prams and bollards.

It might’ve been free, but the patrons deserved better. This city, fringed by the world’s most beautiful harbour, attracts its share of world-class events, quirky festivals, fabulous performers and interesting shows. Inevitably, though, they attract a cross-section of society. Most leave home in good humour before returning culturally richer, if (most of the time, anyway) financially poorer. Others, having packed the requisite understanding and patience, will get to their front door, realise it makes the designer Esky too heavy, and whimsically pitch both onto the nature strip before forging onward. More room for the designer picnic set (in case of hunger), the designer umbrella (in case of rain) and the designer Maserati keychain (in case of Instagram).

Our elected officials, meanwhile, quite often seemed caught out by the nexus between a much-anticipated, world-class, free-to-attend event and the need to provide enough manpower to ensure smooth running, along with supporting infrastructure that doesn’t require a gas mask, a Hail Mary or a suitcase full of understanding and patience to access. When it’s over, any criticism of its handling is met with a pervasive sense of “so-it-took-you-three-hours-and-$100-to-make-a-25-minute-trip-in-an-Uber-what’s-wrong-with-you-you-whinger” and, generally speaking, the experience gets filed away under “I” for “It was an epic night, except for that weird, delirious three hours at the end where I was exchanging falafel hotspots with that suddenly cashed-up Uber driver”.

It’s not as though Sydney isn’t capable of putting on a great show. Over the past two and a half decades, the city has successfully hosted an Olympic Games, a Pope, and whatever the collective noun is for all of Taylor Swift’s minions. The point is, every time the city gets it right, there’s a communal sense of “phew, we came through that one well … now, how on earth did we manage it?”

Vivid/Livid Sydney has just a few days left to run, which is just as well because those worst affected by the weekend’s palaver will require at least a year and four days to consider returning. When the displays are dismantled, and the last reveller has been ushered out, there will be no doubt be an audit of what worked and what didn’t. If organisers are looking for a light bulb moment, crowd control would be a good place to start.

Michelle Cazzulino is a Sydney writer.