Down the years I've collected mental notes about some of the eccentricities I've observed when the celebrant faces the people across the altar, à la Julia Child. I recall in particular a bishop (God rest him) who used to do "The Magic Chalice" — he would hold his hands over the chalice at the words of institution and at the end suddenly pull them back as if some small explosion had gone off. It was rather like the stoner's "blow my mind" gesture, and about as edifying.
Then there was the priest who performed long and laborious ablutions facing the people, ending with what always looked like an attempt to screw the chalice into his face. No, thank you.
Also etched in my memory is the priest who would present the consecrated gifts with a look of astonished eagerness, as if he'd just realized what had happened for the first time; you could almost see the exclamation point after "The Gifts of God!" pulsing over his head in comic-book style. But there was more to come, as he would then give the congregation a startled look and pivot his head from side to side at all present, with eyebrows raised to his hairline, as if also just realizing that they were, in actual fact, and for the first and only time, "the People of God!" Admittedly, this is one place where the celebrant is obviously intended to face the people, but it really shouldn't come as a surprise.
Nor is the Eastward position a refuge from peculiar gestures that to the congregation amount to no more than the rustling of silk and satin vestments in the assault on Dix's aunt's crab let loose from the tabernacle, nor from the sepulchral tones of "sanctuary voice" — I've got a few of these in my catalogue of things to avoid as well.
In short, anything that calls excessive attention to the celebrant, rather than to what is being celebrated, is wisely to be avoided.
Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG