Céline Dion rescues Olympic parade after rain-soaked hostage to hubris | Paris Olympic Games 2024

Avant: le déluge. A moment arose, roughly an hour into the Grand Opening Spectacular of Paris 2024, where the rain seeped into shoes, trousers, and socks, reaching skin, hair, and bones. Meanwhile, more boats filled with waving crowds drifted down the Seine, resembling a bizarre series of nationalistic office gatherings. Some men began to dance in a place where the rationale felt entirely lost at that point, sparking a thought.

Perhaps this wasn’t merely the worst Olympic opening ceremony ever. Maybe it wasn’t even the poorest outdoor event. Maybe this was the worst thing ever.

Jump to 11:25 PM local time, and Paris 2024 essentially summoned Messi. There might have been superior moments in the long history of opening ceremony entertainment than Céline Dion singing atop the Eiffel Tower, just beneath the Olympic rings, lights shimmering, at 56, yet still an incredible sonic force, delivering a breathtaking rendition of Édith Piaf’s Hymne à l’amour.

Yet, at this moment, nothing better came to mind. Sports are never concluded until they are over. It’s the toughest game in the world, filled with Vegas-style spectacle. But what a way to save the evening.

And let’s be clear, this needed saving. It required Céline to surge from the bench and scissor-kick those final five minutes into the net. Because up until that point, it certainly didn’t align with expectations laid out in the catalog.

“By beginning the ceremony at 7:30 PM, we rely on the sun and its gleams of gold to light up the stone and make the water shimmer.” These were the words of Thomas Jolly, the artistic director of the Paris 2024 opening ceremony, recorded in his relentlessly optimistic manifesto.

Hmm. About that. Joking aside, it’s admirable to see the courage of the French Olympic committee spending €120 million on a ceremony that was not just groundbreaking but imbued with imperial grandeur, like Emmanuel Macron’s own field of the cloth of gold, after years of touting its own significance, and then staging the entire event in a manner that was predictably susceptible to a spell of summer rain.

The moment you do that, one thing is certain: it’s going to rain. And so, it came to pass that this Games were inaugurated with a ceremony that was, as they invariably are, fun, silly, excessively long, and overly somber. But it was also nice, warm, necessary, and in this instance thrillingly subject to its own hubris.

So much so that, as the rain kept pouring, the grandeur of the spectacle regained its footing, becoming remarkably heroic, a confrontation against nature, and undeniably humorous. Although, considering that the theme of the ceremony had transitioned to no longer emphasize Paris is splendid and cool, but rather this is an excellent cosmic joke, it still needed more depth from the catalog to truly capture it.

“The fusion of art and sport is total,” Jolly had cautioned us. “On this extraordinary stage, they will be drenched in the most beautiful light.”

So, we witnessed a guy jamming on a guitar atop a building (in the pouring rain). We saw a Jeanne d’Arc figure on a flaming warship performing Bizet, which was genuinely impressive (in the pouring rain). We experienced individuals in wet rubber masks presenting a cabaret.

“It is in this unifying, eclectic, poetic, and political spirit, as a successor to Jean Vilar and André Malraux, great figures of decentralization and exceptional French culture, that I have infused my soul into this river of creation.”

Now, to be fair to Damian Gabriac, co-writer of the ceremony, he likely didn’t have in mind the men on BMXs attempting awkward tricks on a slippery stage, or the significant screens blinking out as rain seeped in, resulting in the startling conclusion that an event that had largely involved watching boats on a screen in the rain had now turned into just sitting in the rain.

Fortunately, there were still delightful moments. The rain had subsided half an hour before the start, the skies remained bruised and gray, as Macron and Thomas Bach emerged on their podium, Bach waving like a dentist at his own birthday celebration, while Macron appeared dignified and composed.

An early plume of tricolor smoke rose over an illuminated bridge, and one couldn’t help but feel a little warmth at the beauty of Paris. The Greeks led off, beaming handsomely on a barge doused in fountain jets, resembling a Dunkirk-style team flotilla. From that moment on, the next three hours resembled a Glasgow Willy Wonka Experience: the French edition.

Here we have Quasimodo, Les Misérables, Marie Antoinette, and Mona Lisa. Here is the Folies Bergère. Here is cheese. Here is Charles Aznavour. Here are Marcel Proust, Josephine Baker, and Jacques Tati.

The production involved 49 credited creative directors, ranging from a choreographer named Zenzel to the house of Dior. Six months of rehearsals were dedicated to this. It was complex, nuanced, enjoyable, energetic, widespread, diluted, and overly sprawling. It turns out there’s a good reason why large events are typically hosted in stadiums. How many more boats are there now? The highlight was a splendid interlude where Axelle Saint Cirel sang La Marseillaise atop the Grand Palais. This was flawless and should happen every day.

Subsequently, things that persisted got somewhat better. Barbara Butch’s DJ set was enjoyable.

At the conclusion, the Olympic flag was brought in by a knight in shining armor, amusingly hung upside down. It felt epic, as it always does. The rain added an air of solemnity (and water).

Ultimately, it is just an opening ceremony. These occasions never influence the subsequent sports. This one gained significance solely because it generated so much anticipation before. However, what transpired here was notable in its own manner. By hosting it in their backyard, allowing the city to be the star, Paris aimed for maximum impact for their investment. Beyond the unforeseen cosmic humor of a rain-soaked parade and the excessive expenditure on this element (three times what London cost), there’s an attempt to pursue something distinctive.

The next two weeks will build upon that theme. Because in virtually every other aspect, the Paris Games signify a venture into the new. No carbon-heavy extravagances, no absurd white elephant monstrosities. Recycle, repurpose, outfit the aging concrete dome. Utilize the city, don’t combat it.

Infrastructure expenses are lower than any other Games in this century. Paris still hopes to recoup its expenditures. The one unexpected variable is security, estimated at $300,000, which has been heightened due to this rain-soaked folly, and is likely to at least double, some experts suggest, given the requirement for military-grade equipment, drone surveillance, armored vehicles on the streets, and more.

This was the other inevitable irony of the event. “Olympics Wide Open” was the night’s motto. However, that is far from what is actually unfolding behind the triple-reinforced steel barrier.

For the moment, we will always remember the men dancing in the rain. We will always have Céline. By the conclusion, as Bach delivered another generic and drawn-out speech, it felt somewhat like an elegant country wedding; all for the best, fingers crossed, as we trudged onward with squelching shoes into the next vital two weeks for these unique summer Games.