At the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games, the plan was disrupted by a force of nature, but not the goal

July 27, 2024

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At the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games, the plan was disrupted by a force of nature, but not the goal

Follow our coverage of the Olympic Games in Paris.

PARIS — The party really started when the Mozambicans started dancing with the Greeks.

Just arms and legs. Flying, waving. Feet stomping, puddles splashing. All to the beat of “Freed from Desire,” the Gala Rizzatto song that became a soccer anthem.

It was dark now. The sunset that should have lit up a Parisian sky, created indelible images that would last a lifetime, changed the way we watch the Olympic Opening Ceremony — never came. The clementine and cream streaks that organizers dreamed of were replaced instead by a deep, indistinct haze. Gray on gray, like an old, untrimmed beard.

And rain. All that rain. Sheets and sheets of rain.

The opening ceremony of Paris 2024 was a failure. It took years to plan. And it took one long, relentless storm cell to theoretically ruin.

But something strange happened.

There is something that occurs to us humans when it rains. The stages of getting soaked. First, there is denial. “This will pass.” Then, 2.) defense. When umbrellas are opened and coats are put on.

Then 3.) the search for cover. Then 4.) total frustration.

Then the final phase.

5.) Resigned acceptance.

At some point in a rainstorm we regress to whatever amphibious link in our evolutionary chain, and the realization dawns that the water has won. You’re wet, you’re getting wetter, so be wet.

With that, we slide into a kind of phantasm. Rules can go to hell. Inhibitions can go to hell. There is a kind of nirvana on the other side of every storm. It is meant for the fantasists out there. Dancing in the rain is not a lyric in a song. It is a state of mind.

That’s what happened on Friday. In all that gray, this Olympic Games opening ceremony became extraordinarily fitting.

The Olympics are supposed to be fiction. The event preaches equality and peace. It even goes so far as to read out an athlete’s oath that promises not to cheat, not to deceive, not to be malicious. We know that all of this will absolutely happen, both this week and in every iteration of the Games.

But everyone, from fans to participants, wants to believe that such a utopia is possible. It’s nice to imagine a world where it’s plausible.

So the Olympics exist, in part, as a supposed version of the ideal. That was the plan for Friday.

The Ukrainian delegation, some wearing ponchos, parades on the Seine. Despite Friday’s weather, the stands were full and the mood was festive. (Aytac Unal/Anadolu via Getty Images)

Nothing had ever been seen like what organizers in Paris rolled out to kick off the 2024 Games. An event confined to stadiums since its inception in Athens in 1896 broke loose with a flotilla of Olympians sailing down the Seine River. In a city with its windows open, the ritual ventured into shared space. Hundreds of thousands would line the river, lining the course toward a final landing at the Trocadéro, the 10,000-square-meter green space in the middle of the French capital. There would be a performance of “Imagine” on a floating, flaming piano. And a mystical robot horse galloping down the Seine carrying the Olympic flag. The finale — a laser show projected onto and off the Eiffel Tower, alongside a triumphant return from Celine Dion — would be extraordinary.

The spectacle was created as a statement of French capacity and in response to a series of recent Olympic Games marred by discord and disinterest. It was intended to astonish and engage a global television audience. It was to herald a new day.

But in the end, the most basic condition of all — the weather, the environment — was a mess.

Instead, it was replaced by what should matter most. The people who love Paris, love the Olympics, and love the moment.

As the early evening in Paris turned to night, the athletes entering the Trocadéro, having already sailed down the Seine, were soaking wet and done fighting that fate, but they were still standing. The Austrians danced and left their ponchos behind. The New Zealanders partied. So did the Dutch, the Australians and the Brazilians.

Athletes from the People’s Republic of China waved flags in the air and waved. Palestinian athletes were applauded. Israeli athletes were applauded.

We’ve been conditioned to think that none of that is possible all at once. But Friday was a demonstration of the potential that humans have to find the best in what is most complicated. The rain, if anything, came to clarify things.

Athletes crowd the stage around French soccer legend Zinedine Zidane. By the end of Friday’s show, steady rain had been falling for hours. (Xu Chang/POOL/AFP via Getty Images)

Behind the Trocadéro stage, the Palais de Chaillot framed the scene in a four-story semicircle. Built in 1937, it is a baby among the monuments in the area. Both wings depict the status of ancient gods. One is Apollo, and the inscription above him is a quote from the French writer Paul Valéry:

“The cell that passes by depends on you. It is true that you have a great love. You talk to me. Ceci ne tient qu’à toi. Ami n’entre pas sans desire.”

Am I a grave or a work of art? Do I speak or do I remain silent? That is up to the viewer — it is up to you to decide. Do not enter lightly, my friend, but come with desire.”

While the eccentricity of Parisian lust for pageantry set the script for these Olympics, a harsh dose of reality came to disrupt it. This was a far cry from the other most iconic moments we identify with other recent opening ceremonies. Muhammad Ali lighting the torch in Atlanta in 1996. The visual masterpiece of Beijing 2008.

In Paris it was a force of nature against something so fixed.

And those who were there continued unperturbed. Few, if any, of the spectators who filled the 8-10,000 seats around the Trocadéro left. They sat, covered in plastic sheeting, watched, and eventually stood up and cheered, realizing that such efforts were futile.

The athletes did the same. Under a sunset, they might have looked up at video screens or held iPhones aloft to capture the scene. But that wasn’t how it worked on Friday. So instead, they stood side by side down there in the rain, watching what lay ahead. It was a good moment, once they realized it.

Something no one could have imagined.