HANOVER, Germany -- The Expo 2000 World's Fair hobbles to a quiet conclusion Tuesday, about 22 million visitors shy of the expected 40 million.
Plagued by financial troubles, bad weather and scandals, the notion of world's fairs has come under fire. Are they relics of the 20th century, or do they have a place in the new millennium?
But should flagging attendance figures be the yardstick by which world's fairs should be measured? There seems to be quite a lot in Hanover that justified all the effort.
Its broad theme of Humankind-Nature-Technology (very much in that order) was atypical of these extravaganzas in that it doesn't showcase technological prowess, but rather focuses on ways for mankind to get along with nature.
World's fairs were initially conceived of as showcases for the latest technology: the typewriter, the telephone and even TV all made their premieres at similar events.
But industrial progress also led to a lot of ecological disasters -- and Expo 2000 intends to clean up the mess, or at least point the way. And despite its ecological bent, quite a few technological marvels have managed to sneak beneath the radar screen of so much eco-rhetoric.
Each nation had to indicate how it will be grappling with the ecological problems of the future.
Japan's pavilion is built of recycled paper; Spain designed a theater out of cork; and the popular Dutch expo features a paradigm-shifting concrete structure with a different ecosystem on each floor.
Alongside the national exhibits was the Expo's "Theme Park," where weighty concerns such as mobility, the future of work, health and energy reside.
Yet as much as it tries not to, the Theme Park often resembles a Six Flags equivalent. It has a massive international food court; houses unfettered kids with cell phones scootering down sapling-lined paths; and a live band plays to indifferent clusters of tourists poring over their maps.
Many thematic areas are fixated on the future, and the tomorrow they present is an unrelentingly slick one, with troubles eradicated by infinitely small nano-computers, entertainment viewed on banks of sleek plasma monitors and fun provided by biomorphic orbs that scuttle towards you.
An ominous metal dome on the outskirts of the grounds contains squawking mechanical rats and pigeons -- a cautionary reference to the potential pitfalls hiding just beneath the unreconstructed futurism being boostered inside the halls.
Clearly, the view presented is an optimistic one. In an era where the 20th century nation-state is gradually ceding ground to the multinational corporation -- the messengers of the happy days ahead are the industrialists, not the ecologists.
Almost everything your hear, see, touch or taste here is co-branded by a host of international corporate giants.
Upon arriving in the new train station, for example, you check your bags under a monstrous inflatable Ronald McDonald, which turns out to be a kind of spiritual father to the life-sized Ronalds who mingle with the crowds outside.
The Expo's new entry hall befits the convention center that Hanover essentially is -- for CBIT, the world's largest computer show, is also held here. Perhaps the site's unspectacular origins were responsible for Expo 2000's strange mish-mash of the flash and the pedestrian; seas of mammoth LCD monitors start to dull after you've seen a thousand of them. Conversely, the ordinary springs to life inside the confines of an exhibition space: A gleaming new bus looks breathtaking in the right lighting, yet it's no different than the hundreds parked outside.
In general, the corporate displays here overshadow the national contributions. Big business has the money and the technology to dazzle and bewilder, and has pulled no punches in doing so.
They are grander, more interactive, and often more fun, though some companies have it easier than others. Audio firm Sennheiser invites guests to play with all manner of oscillators and generators, while the bank next door has to settle for high-definition footage of people ... banking.
The Expo's problems are legion, and started early. The initial ticket price of $33 had to be lowered, and parking was soon made free.
What Expo 2000 ostensibly lacks is a clear centerpiece, an Eiffel Tower or a Crystal Palace -- something that would lure visitors en masse.
The promotional efforts have been lambasted for being too little, too late, and too expensive -- a cool million for a few Peter Ustinov TV spots, $200,000 for a 5-second Kraftwerk jingle.
Worse, the weather just won't behave: It's either too hot or too cold, too rainy or too nice. Hanover itself is criticized for not being a Paris or even a Lisbon, as people question whether a small provincial city should be hosting an event of this scale and prestige.
Though the impressively automated ticket-taking machines efficiently speed visitors through the gates, the rumored lines are indeed huge, often lasting an hour or more (and this was at only half-capacity, remember).
Anti-Expo demonstrators seized upon the site early on as an outpost of evil globalization, local politicians and industrial organizations feel deceived by the overly optimistic forecasts, and many consider the Expo's theme itself too fuzzy. Is it a tech showcase or a nature theme park?
According to Green Party parliamentarian Enno Hagenah, the total deficit now amounts to just over $1 billion.
Yet the point of a word's fair has never been for the host country to turn a profit. As local politician Christian Wulff puts it, "You can't expect to give a party and then have the guests contribute more than the party actually cost."
In this regard, other recent events, such as last year's Millennium Dome in London or the 1998 World Expo in Lisbon, were also financial flops.
So even though the short-term fiscal repercussions are substantial and widespread, the region as a whole has enjoyed major infrastructure improvements, which will remain long after the Expo has faded into memory. For example, there is a new railway station and airport terminal, a facelift for much of downtown Hanover, and a brand-new pop concert hall.
So is the world's fair a dying breed? Nothing doing, according to Alfred Heller, author of World's Fairs and the End of Progress: An Insider's View.
He ranks the Hanover fair alongside the greats, largely because of its focus on nature.
"The ecological concerns were implicit in the fiber of the event," Heller said, more so than in many other Expos past. He feels too much emphasis is given to an exhibition's attendance figures, which are often exaggerated to garner key support during the planning stages, and which tell only a small part of the whole story.
The long-term regional benefits from infrastructure improvements are almost impossible to quantify, and, most importantly, "the cultural buzz can last for decades."
Perhaps this gradual shift to ecological rather than technological progress will be reflected even more clearly in Seto, Japan, which is due to host the next world's fair in 2005.
And its theme of "Beyond Development: Rediscovering Nature's Wisdom" seems more than just ecological lip service. Instead of building the traditional disposable pavilions, the entire Expo will be constructed with long-term use in mind, and will reject massive infrastructure and road-building projects in favor of maintaining the region's natural topography.
Now Expo 2000 has to clear out of town to make way for a markedly less grandiose livestock exhibition. An auction house has been called in to unload the saleable remnants: the second of three auctions, on Dec. 7, will be featuring everything from wooden bus stops to entire national pavilions.
