The 10 that have to go

Strangely enough, given the apparent appeal of the genre, we often forget that extreme makeovers involve extreme obliterations. That is, before the lucky ones can get the charmed nose-jobs and hairdos, they have to agree to jettison what nature gave them.

By analogy, if this island is ever to look nice, we must first indulge in a bit of mischief. Destruction is not necessarily the corollary of beauty; given what we've built, however, it must be in this case.

I honestly think, and I'm not joking about this, that the Malta Environment and Planning Authority should consider drawing up a sort of 'anti-structure plan' that would identify a number of key candidates for the honours. And, since demolition requires resources and the skills of builders and engineers, we would also be providing some stimulus to the construction industry.

What follows is in this vein. Most of Malta's built-up spaces look positively ugly and a comprehensive list would be very, very long. (Plus, we're making pretty fast work of the exceptions.) My list is short, and I've stuck to a few iconic exemplars.

I also do not take into account two things. First, the attraction of the grotesque. One may protest that some of the chosen ones, as well as many not so lucky (such as Ta' Pinu in Gozo), are indeed ugly but in a grotesque and strangely seductive sort of way.

Second, use-value. A good number on the list are in regular use, and have been invested with much meaning by those using them (the churches are a case in point). Of course, they could always be replaced.

Caveats in order, the list: (1) The 'Grand' Hotel Excelsior in - or rather in front of - Valletta. Built on the 'get a view and spoil everyone else's' model, this horror would be more at home among the glamour stacks at St Moritz. But no, it just had to sprawl along the fortifications of a world heritage site. Rather like in North Korea, the son has turned out a nastier piece of work than the father. I begin to have ballistic thoughts.

(2) The Carmelite church dome in Valletta, built on the 'big is best' principle. I grew up watching this carbuncle slowly infect the Valletta skyline, and I'd love to watch the process reversed. In this case demolition should take place in a controlled way so as to create a ruin. Given that Renzo Piano has been commissioned to rob Valletta of its only significant ruin, and that a real heritage city needs at least one ruin (and at least one ghost, but that's another story), the Carmelite dome would fit the bill perfectly. If Bernini could concoct artificial ruins in Rome, so can we.

(3) The brand new Floriani monument, inspired by the 'put the p in pseudo' muse. I wonder, does the Floriana local council also hold viol da gamba sessions, or serve chocolate in silver pots?

(4) Buġibba - the entire bazaar I mean. No amount of palm trees, fountains, and red paving will ever redeem this babel, conceived with a 'build now think later' philosophy. Steven Spielberg used it as a location for a bombing and left, never to return. We enjoy no such privilege - or do we?

(5) Popeye village. Originally cobbled together on a 'to be dismantled' basis as a fitting home for Brutus, somebody's cunning plan saw to its survival and enduring appeal (unlike the film, which no one watched in the first place) Compared to this pile of timber and rusty nails, the average trapper's hide in rubble-and-corrugated looks distinctly Palladian. My prayers for a biblical north-westerly gale remain unanswered.

(6) The Splash and Fun 'water park'. What can I say?

(7) The flats - sorry, 'mansions' - at St Angelo in Vittoriosa. I'm told the architects took the job seriously, but I really can't figure the fruits of their labour. The Galley's Creek side is just about acceptable, the Kalkara side nowhere near. It spoils the whole flow of the peninsula as an unbroken mass of stone, and looks particularly horrid when the light's beautiful. Anton Grech's recently-installed on-site sculpture reminds me of something the cat didn't bring home, and was probably meant as a tribute.

(8) Why did my worries cross the road? I always thought Psaila's Balluta Buildings, though no doubt fascinating, were a tad menacing and overbearing in tone. My concern has now doubly redoubled and shifted to the slum right opposite. Mumbai boasts 14 million souls crammed in a space not quite twice the size of Malta. I've yet to see, in that city, a structure as byzantine and crammed as the new Balluta flats and hotels. Psaila's folly is beginning to look minimalist in comparison.

(9) It is said that Jennifer Lopez had insured her behind for several million dollars. The new St Venera church is unlikely to run into such issues. Seen from the Marsa side, it looks like a giant garage. Nor is the façade any better. The whole thing should be replaced by a colossal statue of Jenny, which would look good from any direction.

(10) Xlendi. Again a clean sweep is necessary here, since I honestly can't think of a single good building among the maze. Doubters could do worse than browse through the sepia photographs in Giovanni Bonello's Nostalgias of Gozo and compare 'before' and 'after'. No wonder no one wants to live there permanently.

mafalzon@hotmail.com