The Olympics Opening Ceremony: Parisian Perfection? Almost

Whisper it, but it wasn’t the sport which drew me to last week’s Olympics opening ceremony. It was the promise made by Tony Estanguet, President of the Paris 2024 Organizing Committee, of a spectacle to showcase the beauty of my favorite city from all possible vantage points: “on the bridges, on the monuments, on the water, everywhere,” as he put it. I couldn’t wait to see the surprises he said would unfold. 

And what a start! Thousands of the world’s best athletes, packed into 85 barges, sailed down the Seine and were welcomed by Lady Gaga descending a golden staircase, set up right there on the riverbank. This was surely the ritzy Paris they’d dreamed of during all those training sessions. Lady Gaga planned the performance in tribute to what she has called “one of the most magical cities on earth” and she pulled out all the stops: a jaunty Parisian cabaret number from the 60s, delivered in French, costumes designed in consultation with Christian Dior, and a witty choreography designed around pink feathered plumes inspired by archives at the Paris Lido. 

As a Francophile, I loved the national pride which flowed through the whole evening. At the Pont d’Austerlitz, the very first of the 18 bridges on the route, bold tri-colored plumes of smoke descended as the boats passed underneath. Towards the end, the arrival of the last boat of all, bearing the French team, was a cue for a second bridge to light up in red, white and blue, to roaring cheers from the home crowd. One of the standout musical highlights was La Marseillaise, sung by the Guadeloupian mezzo-soprano, Axelle Saint-Cirel, standing alone, like Marianne, on the roof of the Grand Palais. Her majestic rendition, of the national anthem floated across the dusky sky, surely captivating the many millions watching around the world. 

But the organizers also sprinkled moments of self-deprecation through the evening, to amuse their global audience. Here, an accordion-player on the riverbank disguised as a cockerel, thus nailing two national stereotypes at once, there a group of dancers dressed as croissants. Outsize copies of some of France’s best-known portraits sat glumly, half-submerged along the route, a film sequence shot in the Parisian catacombs and sewers gave the rats a walk-on part. French history and culture kept popping up in unexpected formats, such as the cartoon-like versions of well-known figures – Jeanne d’Arc, Josephine Baker – waving cheerfully from the riverbank.   

Weightier moments from history were included too, a song from Les Misérables to represent France’s famed popular uprisings, 10 golden statues emerging from under the water, highlighting key figures from the feminist movement, some familiar – Olympe de Gouges, Simones de Beauvoir and Veil – and others little known outside France. And in the tableau labelled Liberté – one of 12 themes which unfolded along the Seine – was portrayed the country’s most seismic political moment of all, la révolution. 

It was here, at the Conciergerie, that I had my first quibble. Who thought it fitting to portray a series of headless Marie Antoinettes, singing a revolutionary song from the windows of the prison where she was held captive in the weeks before her execution? The spectacle was certainly stunning. The blood-red dresses of the singers and the swirling smoke plumes and scarlet ribbons floating down against the golden-lit turreted building, will linger long in the mind. But to me it lacked taste. 

Ways were found to give each of the city’s most stunning buildings their moment in the spotlight. Images flashed past of the Louvre’s grand courtyards and its luminescent pyramid centerpiece, of Belle Époque beauties like the Alexandre III Bridge and the Grand Palais. Versailles was included through floating sections representing its gardens, where playful athletes frolicked. Cameras took us inside the Musée d’Orsay, the Bibliothèque Nationale and the Monnaie de Paris, where the medals to be awarded to this year’s victors were cast. A dance routine on the scaffolding still surrounding Notre Dame paid tribute to that iconic building, and also to the armies of builders and craftsmen who have spent the last five years restoring it.   

The music which featured so prominently drew on many French traditions. Lady Gaga’s opening cabaret number, Mon truc en plumes (My thing with feathers) mined one rich seam, while Alexandre Kantorow’s rendition of Ravel’s Jeux d’Eaux (Water Games) brought a classical element. French from around the world was represented by the Algerian-French rapper, Rim’K, sporting a natty Louis Vuitton checked jacket and by the French-Malian singer-songwriter Aya Nakamura. She’s Spotify’s most listened to French-language female artist and her rendition of her hit single Pookie was memorable for at least two reasons – her metallic gold minidress and the unexpected accompaniment provided by the Band of France’s Republican Guard.   

Sport was celebrated too, through photo montages of previous Olympics, especially the two held in Paris – 1900 and 1924 – and a tribute to the founder of the modern Olympic Games, the Frenchman Pierre de Coubertin. Some of France’s best known recent sporting heroes played a prominent role. Zinédine Zidane and Amélie Mauresmo led the group taking the Olympic flame on its final journey, joined by others, including the (Spanish!) darling of Roland-Garros spectators, Rafael Nadal and France’s oldest living Olympian, Charles Cost, now 100, who won a cycling gold medal at the 1948 Olympics. 

The Paris Olympics Organizing Committee have long underlined diversity and inclusion as a key theme. From the children who helped Zidane get the flame on its journey through Paris to the proud centenarian guiding it on its very last stage, all ages were represented. The whole world had come to Paris, athletes from 205 nations, plus 37 more traveling in the special boat set aside for refugees, the music was both French and global, the gay and trans communities featured throughout, feminism was highlighted and celebrated and the closing speeches stressed unity and togetherness. 

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And yet many from one group felt negatively targeted. For, slipped in amongst all the color and verve was a living tableau which some Christian viewers claimed parodied Leonardo da Vinci’s painting of the last supper. Criticism came almost immediately, followed by a statement from artistic director Thomas Jolly that no offense had been intended –  the tawdry scene actually depicted Dionysus, the Greek god of wine- and “we wanted to include everyone.” 

Could one of the legacies of the Paris Games be the acceptance that no one has the right to redefine “diversity,” excluding any group, but that it really does mean tolerance for all by all. Yes, that’s idealistic, but shouldn’t we try? 

It’s a pity, because this wondrous spectacle was 99% a triumph of organization. A celebratory party to welcome the world’s athletes? Tick. A global showcase for Paris, cheerful resilience when the weather wouldn’t play ball, exactly the right mix of humor, emotion and high ideals? Tick, tick, tick. This unforgettable evening began amid the city’s cabaret razzamataz and ended with the perfect cluster of Parisian icons. From the golden sparkles showering down from the Eiffel Tower, to Edith Piaf’s heart-wrenching Hymne à l’Amour, so powerfully delivered by Céline Dion, to the huge shimmering balloon rising to sit over Paris for the duration of the games, there was really only one word: parfait. 

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