Paris Olympics 2024

 

Paris Olympics 2024

                                    Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons 

We sat and watched the opening ‘ceremony’ on Friday night. We sat through it to the bitter end, trying to make sense of what we were seeing. The media this morning helped to clarify some matters

  

The concept was original – well, fairly original. A flotilla of boats, large and small made their way along the Seine in the pouring rain. That was quite jolly.

We saw ladies on tall poles, swaying elegantly. Apparently, they were singing, but we couldn’t hear that. We saw a woman in red holding her severed head. So important was she that she was seen in many, many windows. I think it was Marie Antoinette, but I could be wrong. I am wrong – it was to mark the Revolution, though surely men revolted just as much as women. I find a number of men revolting, but that’s not relevant.

At various points we saw gyrating people – I think they were dancing, but it 

wasn’t always clear what they were doing. At the same time there was a catwalk along which cavorted a collection of oddly dressed people and Parisian drag queens, and I read that there was a blasphemous interpretation of the Last Supper, about which many folks became very exercised. There was also a depiction of Dionysus, the Greek god of winemaking, fertility and festivity, among other things. A French singer-songwriter stripped naked and painted blue was an unattractive sight sitting on a platter of fruit. Dionysus was also the god of insanity and that seemed rather more appropriate. People were quick to describe him as a Smurf.

Running alongside this was a strange creature wearing what looked like a beekeeper’s hat and veil and without a face, traversing wet roof tops and walls, appearing and disappearing at odd moments. This was the torchbearer and a reference to a video game called ‘Assassin’s Creed.’ It was lost on me, but I suppose it would be. There was a version of the Can Can but why there were men alongside the dancers was a mystery. Inclusivity, maybe?

There were some touching moments. A rendition of ‘Imagine’ was sweetly sung, accompanied by sensitive piano playing, miraculously not ruined by the driving rain. Céline Dion also sang beautifully, but so near the end of the ceremony that I’m sure many hundreds or thousands of people would have given up long before she appeared, four hours after the commencement of the jollifications. There was some fine opera singing, too.

The mechanical silver horse riding on top of the waters of the Seine was impressive, though I did wonder if it would ever reach the end of its journey. The change to a real white horse was a relief, but it would have been nice to see it travel a little further on dry land. The torch was accepted and passed by many to many - too many! - and finally the Olympic cauldron was lit underneath a hot air balloon, and we wondered and hoped it was securely attached to something and would not float away in succeeding days . . . or explode!

There were many things missing – no nod to Marie Curie, or Louis Pasteur, or Jacques Cousteau, no Berlioz, Ravel or Debussy, no Maurice Chevalier or .Édith Piaf. Where were the artists? Degas, Matisse, Renoir, Cézanne, Seurat. Writers? Victor Hugo, Voltaire, Balzac, Camus, Sartre.

It was five years in the planning, but it was damp and disappointing, mainly. I hope the Games themselves will deliver more excitement and passion.

 . . . and there were Minions. Why?