Magnifique? Formidable? Just plain fou? (How about that Olympics Opening Ceremony!)

I suppose I should be more interested in the sports, but mostly what I like about the Olympcis is the Opening Ceremony. 

My favorite part is always the parade of the athletes - the poky little countries with a handful (or even a fingerful) of competitors; the places I've never heard of (Eswatini, which used to be Swaziland); all those young folks with their joy and pride on display - where I love seeing (and critiquing) the uniforms.

This time around, the parade was something different, as the teams cruised down the Seine in boats of all shapes and sizes, from cool little wooden speed boats to massive tourist bateaux mouches. Most of the countries shared their transpo with another country or two, but some - from itty-bitty 
handful/fingerful delegations to major cohorts like the US of A - got their own.

None of the outfits stood out particularly, but that may have been because it was harder to see the full regalia when folks were standing behind a boat rail, especially once it started to pour and the clear plastic ponchos came out and on. 

The American uniforms were okay - a bit bland, a bit boring, a bit safe. Ralph Lauren Polo preppy: never in style, never out of style. At least this time around the polo-player logo is not as prominently featured as it has been in the past. 

Beyond the march (or, this year, the float) of the athletes, and the outfits, I'm always interested in seeing what the Opening Ceremony has to offer in terms of beautfy, grandiosity, and out-and-out weirdness. And the Paris Olympics didn't disappoint. 

What's French for what a mish-mosh?

I understand that there was an attempt at thematic coherence (more or less) through a dozen tableaux based on the words enchante,synchronicity, liberty and equality, fraternity, sisterhood, sportsmanship, festivity, darkness, solidarity, solemnity and eternity. And I will admit that my attention wasn't exactly rapt. 

But most of the time while the different tableaux were scooting past, I was shaking (or scratching) ma tête at the silliness of the goings on. 

Pink squishies cavorting on the river's banks. Lady Gaga doing a fan dance. A headless Marie Antoinette. Faceless parkour. In a move borrowed from Night at the Museum and/or Harry Potter, Louvre art works throwing off their frame or pedestal chains. Someone singing Imagine while on what appeared to be a floating garbarge barge. Heavy metal guys playing from balconies. Drag queens (mais oui!). An extremely long build to the lighting of the torch. (Where's that speed boat on the pitch-black Seine heading, anyway?)

This is France, so outré was to be expected. Still, I came away feeling that the experience of watching four hours of the Opening Ceremony was as close to an acid trip as I'm every going to take.

It sure didn't help that the narrators included Peyton Manning and Kelly Clarkson who, charming though they may be, had about as much to add to the narration as I did. Wow! Cool! Look at that!

And it sure didn't help that the only French athletes that I recognized were former NBA star Tony Parker, perhaps the most American of French athletes (he holds dual citizenship), and footballer Zindine Zidane. 

There were some things that I liked a lot.

I've heard some complaints that the French turned the traditional torch bowl into a hot air balloon, but I got a kick out of it. 

And I'm 100% in favor of lighting up the Eiffel Tower. That I could watch 24/7.

My favorite moment was when Celine Dion, who has been experiencing some pretty grave health issues, absolutely torched an Edith Piaf torch song. Magnifique et formidable! Nothing fou about that performance. Brava, Celine, and welcome back to the stage.

Inevitably, there were some who took offense. Some American right-wingers criticized the drag queen scene that they interpreted as an anti-Christian attack, making fun of the Last Supper. (It was supposed to replicate a Dionysian banquet, but the drag queens would have raised hackles even if the pissers-and-moaners had been aware that Dionysus wasn't even at the Last Supper.) 

And I read that some folks complained that Celine Dion - a Canadian and native French-speaker - sang in French. While in Paris. Which is in France. Imbéciles!

Anyway, I guess now I'll just settle into my usual Olympic watching mode, which includes keeping a vague eye on the medal count and occasionally checking in on some sport or the other. (Sure, track, field, basketball, and swimming performances are great. And there's generally a clear winner. But give me the absolutely 100% subjective sports any old day. How else can I develop instant expertise and start second judging the scores awarded in sports I may not have even been aware were part of the Olympics (or even sports) before I tuned in?)

For me, Olympic mode also means keeping an eye on any scandals: the Canadian women's soccer team and their spy drone; the Dutch beach volleyball player who, a few years back, at the age of 19, served a one-year prison sentence for raping a 12 year old; the British dressage queen banned from the Games when a video of her maltreating a horse emerged.

(Dressage? Hmmmm. What kind of a sport is it that involves training animals to perform maneuvers that are entirely unnatural to them? Skateboarding's more of a sport than this is.)

I can't imagine the circumstances where I'd be caught chanting USA! USA! But, of course, I want to see the Americans win a lot of medals. 

But I also want to see those poky little countries win a few, especially the ones that've never won one in the past, the ones that had just a handful/fingerful of athletes in their speedboat. 

And I'm already looking forward to the Opening Ceremony of the 2026 Winter Games in Milan. Bet it will be gorgeous - and a lot less outré than what Paris put on display.

That said, rain and all, I'm guessing the Parisians had a lot of fun putting their show on.

C'est si bon!