Before the deluge, there was a moment, roughly an hour into the Grand Opening Spectacular of Paris 2024, when the rain had thoroughly soaked through shoes, trousers, socks, and eventually reached skin, hair, and bone.
As more boats filled with waving people drifted down the Seine, reminiscent of an endless parade of oddly nationalistic office parties, and as some men performed dance routines in a setting that, at that point, seemed increasingly irrelevant, a thought emerged.
Perhaps this wasn’t just the worst Olympic opening ceremony ever. Maybe it wasn’t merely the worst outdoor event ever. Maybe, in fact, it was the worst thing ever.
Fast forward to 11:25 p.m. local time, and Paris 2024 introduced Messi to the mix.
There may have been moments in the extensive history of opening ceremony entertainment that rivaled Céline Dion’s performance halfway up the Eiffel Tower, just beneath the Olympic rings, with lights cascading down, her age of 56 notwithstanding, as she delivered a breathtaking rendition of Édith Piaf’s Hymne à l’amour.
Céline Dion’s performance at the Paris Olympics review was indeed dazzling and emotional. Yet, no other moment springs to mind right now. The world of sports is known for its unpredictability, and this display of grand showmanship was a dramatic rescue of the evening.
And let’s be clear, this evening needed rescuing. Céline Dion was crucial in turning around the event’s fortunes, almost like scoring a decisive goal in the final minutes. Up until that point, the event hadn’t quite lived up to expectations.
Thomas Jolly, the artistic director of the Paris 2024 opening ceremony, had optimistically stated, “By starting the ceremony at 7:30 p.m., we are relying on the sun and its flashes of gold to illuminate the stone and make the water sparkle.” These were his words in his relentlessly positive manifesto.
The Eiffel Tower during the light display at the Opening Ceremony of the 2024 Paris Summer Olympic Games at the Trocadero.
The light show at the Eiffel Tower preceding Céline Dion’s performance.
However, the reality didn’t align with this vision. Despite the humor, one must admire the audacity of the French Olympic committee, which spent €120 million on a ceremony that was not only groundbreaking but also imbued with imperial grandeur, Emmanuel Macron’s personal display of magnificence.
They had spent years promoting its significance, only to stage the event in a manner that proved highly susceptible to summer rain.
Once this decision was made, one thing became inevitable: it was going to rain. And indeed, the Games were inaugurated with a ceremony that, as is often the case, was fun, silly, overly long, and excessively serious.
Yet it was also warm, necessary, and, in this instance, thrillingly exposed to its own overreach.
As the rain persisted, the spectacle began to reclaim its grandeur, taking on an oddly heroic quality and providing a good laugh.
Given that by this point the theme of the ceremony had shifted from showcasing Paris as splendid and cool to presenting it as a cosmic joke, it required more from the catalogue to fully capture its essence.
Thomas Jolly had promised, “The fusion of art and sport is total. On this incredible stage, they will be bathed in the most beautiful light.”
In practice, this translated into a guitarist rocking out on a building in the pouring rain, a Jeanne d’Arc figure on a flaming warship singing Bizet (which was actually impressive, despite the rain), and performers in wet rubber costumes presenting a cabaret.
“To be fair to Damian Gabriac, co-author of the ceremony, he probably didn’t envision BMX riders performing awkward tricks on a dangerously slippery deck or one of the big screens malfunctioning as rain trickled in, making it apparent that the event had essentially become a wet spectacle of watching boats on a screen.”
There were still some lovely moments. The rain had stopped half an hour before the start, leaving the skies bruised and grey, as Macron and Thomas Bach appeared on their plinth, Bach waving like a dentist at his own birthday party, while Macron remained stately and composed.
An early plume of tricolor smoke over an illuminated bridge provided a brief touch of Parisian beauty. The Greek athletes led the Dunkirk-style flotilla, beaming handsomely from a barge with fountain jets spraying. The subsequent three hours resembled a French version of a Glasgow Willy Wonka Experience.
Here was Quasimodo, Les Miserables, Marie Antoinette, and Mona Lisa. Here was the Folies Bergère, cheese, Charles Aznavour, Marcel Proust, Josephine Baker, and Jacques Tati.
The boat containing the Greek athletes leads the ceremony along the Seine as onlookers take shelter.
The show involved 49 named creative directors, from choreographer Zenzel to the House of Dior. Six months of rehearsals went into this complex, nuanced, fun, energetic, but ultimately too dispersed event.
There is a reason why such large-scale events are usually held in stadiums. The highlight was a delightful interlude where Axelle Saint Cirel sang La Marseillaise atop the Grand Palais, a performance that was perfect and should be a daily occurrence.
As the event progressed, things did improve slightly. Barbara Butch’s DJ set was enjoyable.
The closing act featured the Olympic flag being presented by a knight in shining armor, only to be humorously displayed upside down. It felt epic, as it always does, with the rain adding a sense of gravitas.
In the end, it was just an opening ceremony. These events rarely impact the subsequent sports. This one stood out primarily due to the extensive pre-event hype.
However, the ceremony was significant in its own right. By holding it outdoors, making the city itself a star, Paris aimed to maximize its investment.
Despite the unintended cosmic comedy of a rain-soaked parade and the excessive spending (three times the cost of London’s ceremony), there was an effort to do something different.
The Olympic Flag is presented by The Horsewoman at Place du Trocadero during the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games Paris 2024.
The next two weeks will build on that theme. The Paris Games are an attempt at something new: avoiding carbon-heavy extravaganzas, steering clear of white elephant structures, reusing and repurposing existing facilities.
Infrastructure costs are lower than any other Games this century, and Paris hopes to recoup its expenses.
The unexpected variable is security, estimated at $300 million, and likely to increase significantly due to the rain-induced challenges, including the need for military-grade equipment, drone monitoring, and armored vehicles.
The irony here is unavoidable. The motto for the night was “Olympics Wide Open,” which starkly contrasts with the tightly secured environment behind reinforced barriers.
For now, we will remember the men dancing in the rain and Céline Dion’s performance. As Bach delivered another generic and lengthy speech, the event began to feel like a posh country wedding—optimistically moving forward, with hope, and stepping into the next crucial two weeks of these memorable summer Games.
