In ths post, I want to do two things: briefly analyze the actual production of the ceremonies and analyze the social commentary of them. I know it's late, but I wanted to take some time to digest what has been going on.
Opening Ceremonies
In my opinion, this drawn-out, self-indulgent affair deserved no more than a 6 out of 10 rating compared to other Olympics openings, particularly Beijing, which was a high point and likely never to be repeated.
Let's be clear what this was. At its heart it was about 90% water procession which lasted far too long, and 10% ceremony at its conclusion, which makes it a procession (a parade has no ceremony associated with it). See my latest book for more details.
While it was somewhat creative, the format was essentially copied from the popular royal entries of the Early Modern historical period that occurred all over Europe during the acme of court life. A royal entry incorporated a number of different festivities and entertainmments that were staged for a king who entered one of his domain's cities in a procession. Many of these entertainments took the form of tableaux set up along the processional route, which could have been either by land or by water, depending on the location. Indeed, some of them–even at this early time period–were far more creative than what was presented as tableaux at the Paris 2024 Opening. Some were allegories based on Bible passages and some were purely secular. Their intention was to honour the king. Again, refer to my latest book on parades and processions for more detail on royal entries.
The 12 tableaux presented at the Paris opening were performatively basic and underwhelming. Choreography was simplistic, although the occasional use of props like the movable long poles for performers to sway on, was unique, as was the piece with construction workers/dancers on Notre Dame. The four main female vocalists did their jobs but that is about it. Again, very underwhelming, with even a few off-key notes (except Celine Dion). Most of the tableaux were not explained well by TV announcers and that detracted from the presentation since much of the worldwide TV audience would have no clue about French history. Presentations were ambiguous generally, but specifically used far too many obvious references to the queer lifestyle: costumes in the LGBTQ flag colours, too much pink (in today's queer world a reference to same-sex attraction), song lyric references, and ultimately, drag queens. The one bright spot for me–literally–was the lighting treatment of the Eiffel Tower.
The tableau of the mocked Last Supper–yes that is exactly what it was, according to the organizers–deserved its public thrashing. How the producer, Thomas Jolly, was allowed to get away with this by the IOC, in spite of the avowed theme of the games to be inclusivity, is completely beyond comprehension. All it managed to do was create even more division between religious and non-religious ideologies. The obvious purpose to me was that it sought to replace the moral order and real love emanating from Christianity with the chaos, hedonism, and moral relativism of Satan. There can be no other answer. You don't mock the world's largest religion without consequences. It was not a simplistic Dionysian romp (read more about what the ancient Dionysia celebration was really about in my book). It had a purpose, and yes it was all about the producer's agenda. Absolutely shameless and an extremely poor choice that affected the games overall and the reputation of Paris and France in the eyes of the world.
The socialist mayor of Paris, Anne Hidalgo, has reacted with feigned indignity using her linguistic talents (a string of four-letter expletives), to fight back against detractors. Eh bien madame le maire, revenons directement chez vous. Garez votre pétulance arrogante, prenez une tasse d’humilité, et admettez que de mauvaises décisions ont été prises. That is how you set things right.
Closing Ceremonies
Back in more familiar territory for the closing ceremonies, producer Thomas Jolly hit it out of the park with this outstanding production. The closing was more traditional indoor Olympics fare, using roof trussing for unusual vertical performer exits and entrances, and a wonderful variety of locations for lighting.
The staging was one of the most creative I have seen, designed as simplistically angular continents of the world. Two major "thoroughfares" between continents (north-south and east-west) acted as performance platforms as well. The raised stages made it easier for performer entrances and exits on floor level, necessary for the obviously complex segments that segued in rapid succession.
From a strictly technical production point of view, the overall lighting effects and use of programmed audience wristbands to enhance the show was brilliant.
As for performers, there was a wonderful mix of musical genres and deliveries. It started with me falling in love with the new French sensation Zaho de Sagazan as she sang the traditional French song, Sous le ciel de Paris, in the Tuileries Garden (do check out her other work).
The golden traveller was a bit harder to figure out. Was he/she from another planet or another time? Whichever it was, he found planet Earth devoid of life but discovered the Olympic rings on several continents as if through some sort of archaeological exploration and his people rebuilt them into something magical and perhaps worhip-worthy. Hard to tell the exact interpretation intended, but I think that is the gist of it. This show segment was innovative and very impressive, with the athletic dancer/workers assembling then raising the rings. MUCH complicated rigging involved (I wonder when they had time to do this??).
The extended music segment from the vertical piano performance to the different vocalists, backed mainly by the band Phoenix (absolutely fabulous and now also a new personal favourite), was suitably arena-worthy. Except for an extended pause between the ring raising and Phoenix, the entire show was extremely tight and solidly controlled. Audio and lighting was superlative.
And almost–save for a small logo on the band's bass drum–no references to a queer or woke agenda.
Bravo, M Jolly!
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