What is the Rose of Tralee (RTÉ One, Monday, Tuesday) in the year 2026? Not a beauty pageant, not the patriarchal Gay Byrne-kitsch fest of antiquity, not a talent contest – despite the expectation, nay, demand, that all the Roses arrive on stage with a party piece locked and loaded. The only thing that can be said with much certainty is that, for better or worse, it is uniquely Irish – toe-curling in places, tearjerking in others.
It is also very, very long. Before Westmeath Rose Caoilfhinn Ní Choiligh is crowned this year’s winner, the contest unfolds across two sprawling evenings featuring 32 Roses and a running time of more than four hours.
That’s longer than many of us have to spare, and for those professionally obliged to sit through every minute, the Rose of Tralee quickly blooms into a fever dream of gowns and gags. As your attention wanders, it feels like you’re trapped in a hall of mirrors, with every reflection that of maniacally avuncular co-host and professional Kerryman Dáithí Ó Sé.
He is joined once again by Kathryn Thomas, who is becoming more personable as a co-presenter, though still lacking Ó Sé’s madcap energy. But the broadcast is carried by the Roses, who understand that, in their time in the spotlight, they are required to zip through their educational and career accomplishments (which tend to be considerable), give a shout-out to family waving banners at the back of the room and then perform a jig/recite a poem/play saxophone while spinning on their heads.
On and on it goes, and it’s the moments that tug at the heartstrings that keep the viewer engaged. Cork Rose Lexi Linnane pays tribute to her mother, who died as a result of a stroke; Galway Rose Jodie Kenny explains how the death of her mother led to her raising funds for a cancer charity; Dublin Rose Suad Mooge discusses her encounters with racism (“I’m not going to give power to those opinions”).
The winner, Mullingar native Ní Choiligh, has had her own experience of adversity, having developed alopecia at age 15. Now 25, she has established a support group for those experiencing life-altering hair loss and is training as a wig maker. Her victory is the sort of good-news story on which the modern-day Rose of Tralee thrives – and, oddly, proof that this creaky light entertainment institution is at its most compelling when it plays it straight.