Few schemes have been more hyped than the west end of Temple Bar. Known for marketing purposes as "Old City", not least because it is close to where Dublin started out, it comes complete with names like Pudding Row, Scarlet Row and Cow's Lane - and even some architecture with attitude.

Developed by Temple Bar Properties (TBP), it set out high-mindedly to be a model of urban regeneration, showing private developers what could be achieved by having a good master-plan and hiring the right architects to design individual elements. On that basis, it should attract a lot of attention from the architectural press.

TBP had to take on board a major archaeological problem, given the sensitive location of the site right next to Wood Quay. But despite the huge cost of excavating it, with not a penny in grant-aid, apartments and retail units were still sold or let at substantial premiums - proving again that architecture pays its way.

And while it might be branded as "Old City", the scheme blazed a trail in terms of energy efficiency by recycling hot air from the Civic Offices to provide space heating for 190 apartments and 24 shops. Without this EU-funded initiative, developed by Conservation Engineering Ltd, it would not have happened elsewhere.

Five buildings, each designed by a different firm of architects to avoid dreary Zoe Developments-like uniformity, are organised around two courtyards that provide semi-private open space for residents. Cleverly, the car-parking is located underneath the courtyards and screened by surrounding retail units.

Although the overall urban design aims to preserve the narrow nature and ambience of the area's medieval street pattern, with references to historic building lines and heights, the style is as contemporary as it should be; there was no room in the lexicon for theme-park Tudorbethan stuff with medieval overhangs.

The Wooden Building by deBlacam and Meagher is the scheme's architectural icon, but its centrepiece is Cow's Lane, a new north-south pedestrian-only street running from Lord Edward Street to Essex Street West. This is now lined with predominantly designer-type shops, though the footfall is still quite low.

Even Minister Noel Dempsey, who officially opened it last week, could hardly have failed to notice that the new street is not aligned on the axis of SS Michael and John's Church (now Dublin Tourism's Viking Adventure), though the 100-year-old gap fortuitously left on Lord Edward Street suggested that it should.

Under the master plan, drawn up in 1995 by Anthony Reddy and Associates (ARA), the street was to be six metres wide, just like medieval Essex Street. But Dublin Corporation's planners thought it was too narrow and insisted that it should be widened to nine metres to give the apartments more natural light.

This could have been done by apportioning the extra width equally on both sides. Instead, three metres was lopped off the east side of the street, throwing it off the axis. All of the architects involved acutely regret what happened; their only excuse is that they had so many other issues to deal with, notably height and density.

It is shocking, nonetheless, that such an opportunity to get it right was shamelessly squandered. But it has to be said that at least the sloping street is well paved in granite and its elaborate lamp standards are aligned on the axis, as if to compensate for the original sin. The extra width may also facilitate a future street market.

O'Dowd O'Herlihy Horan's building on the east side of the street projects forward in a flourish at its southern end, mercifully covering up the rear end of the Parliament Hotel. But its rear elevation, in cream-coloured render, is less successful in addressing the scheme's internal courtyard than its companions.

The courtyard, now heavily gated for security reasons, is dominated by the rear elevation of deBlacam and Meagher's iroko-clad tower, even though this is sadly more squat than originally intended. Though somewhat cluttered by trellis that should green over time, it gets plenty of sunlight over the two-storey creche.

The timber panelling that is such a feature of Burke-Kennedy Doyle's building on the west side of Cow's Lane doesn't quite work; it should read like clapboard but instead looks like sheets of plywood. Retail units are also less well-defined than the high-ceilinged shops, with in-built stone fascias, in ARA's scheme on the east side.

This block, the first to be completed, contains no less than 14 different apartment types, a double-height entrance, toplit stairs and an expansive roof terrace with spectacular views. It is marred, however, by the use of polished stone on its bookends; that should only have been used at street level, to counter grafitti.

SCARLET Row, McGarry Ni Eanaigh's block to the west along Essex Street, also uses stone (unpolished) at the corner of Cow's Lane. And though it contains some innovative apartments on different levels, these are accessed from open galleries within a tapering central hall, five storeys high - not unlike Victorian prison cells.

The elevation to Scarlet Row, notably its sub-division into seven vertical elements, works well. But the stone base of shopfronts is too low and there is something quite disturbing about the brick soffit overhanging it. How are the bricks held in place? Are they bolted or stuck on? Is this not just another architectural conceit?

The courtyard off Fishamble Street, on the site where Handel's Messiah was first performed, is rather bleak - in part because of the enforced retention of an old brick wall, now capped in copper, which may (or may not) have been part of the old music hall that once stood here. What meaning does it have in this new context?

Even more ludicrous was the decision - to which TBP, An Taisce and Dublin Corporation all consented - to rebuild Kennan's arch in its original position, at a skewed angle to the street, as an archaeological remnant, instead of realigning it to reflect the current reality. The new, padlocked gates don't help either.

It is important to point out, however, that all five buildings were erected on a site which had been largely vacant for more than 20 years and used by Dublin Corporation to park cars and mobile libraries. But given the aspirations at the outset, the verdict must still be: Could have tried harder.