London 2012 Opening Ceremony review [July 28th in old personal blog]

London 2012 has begun. And it begun in a way many didn’t expect. I fully went into Danny Boyle’s epic 3 hour+ opening ceremony with cynicism glasses well and truly placed upon my head. In the same frame of mind as when watching The X Factor or Made in Chelsea, my sole goal was to take the piss out of what was to be an overblown, kitsch look at Britain.

And the prologue did much to cement the idea this would happen. The Britain Boyle had created; of picnics, cricket, football, beehives, quaint cottages, lush green fields, did little to remove the idea in foreigners minds that Britain was essentially Bag End with regular sized people. But then, roll VT. A swooping fly through of London, visiting all the sights accompanied by Sex Pistols and the Eastenders theme tune. Whilst all CGI, it was a kinetic, exciting way to kick off proceedings officially.

Then something happened. The London Symphony Orchestra began playing Elgar’s Nimrod and Tour de France yellow jersey victor Bradley Wiggins rang the largest harmonically tuned bell. A chorus of Jerusalem, followed by Danny Boy (a little egotistical when taking into account Boy could easily be misconstrued as Boyle), Flower of Scotland and Cym Rhondda, a song for each country, rang out and welcomed the arrival of Kenneth Branagh as Isambard Kingdom Brunel to ruin this idyllic scene and bring on the “satanic mills” Jerusalem talks about.

And what a way did they appear. After Branagh’s reciting of Caliban’s monologue from The Tempest, the peaceful English countryside was torn apart to the sound of pounding drums and industrial workers rising from Glastonbury Tor. The transition between rural and industrial here was simply breathtaking. As the farmers slowly removed their cottages and farms, made obsolete by these new creations, huge smoke stack chimneys rose from the ground, billowing smoke everywhere as bosses surveyed both their achievements and their workers. In a few minutes, the hippy loving Glasto-alike was replaced with Barnsley circa 1920. Pandemonium, the name of this act, is a more than apt title, taking inspiration from John Milton’s hell in Paradise Lost.

Britain’s most motley groups parade around after this transformation, from the suffragettes, to the Jarrow marchers, Chelsea pensioners to the complete historically accurate 72 Beatles members and a Yellow Submarine as the Olympic rings were forged in an orgasm of light and sound as they rose into the air to join together; the shot that is no doubt on the cover of every morning newspaper today.

But we’re nowhere near done yet! An homage to both the NHS and children’s literature was up next, which had some very strong and not very well hidden subtext relating to the Conservative’s attempted destruction of the NHS. Whilst children and nurses played, witches, The Childcatcher, a 30ft Voldemort and many other fairy tale villains (the Conservative party) terrorised the stage. That is until an army of Mary Poppins fly onto the stage to take down the impressive figure of Voldemort.
 
Things just accelerated from here. In what was possibly a section entirely designed for me, as a person that owns EVERY SINGLE James Bond film on DVD, Daniel Craig’s James Bond MEETS THE ACTUAL QUEEN! Not someone dressed as The Queen, but HRH Queen Elizabeth II herself. He takes her on a flight of London, becoming less and less of a secret agent as more people start waving and recognising him, before parachuting into the stadium. Whilst some Americans actually believed the Queen parachuted in (with The New York Times actually writing a piece to debunk this), it was still a hell of an entrance for a lady who normally just walks in.

And then Rowan Atkinson does something spectacular. He actually regains his funny. Whilst I know Mr Bean is a big international hit, I’m not a fan. So I rolled my eyes as he took part in a rendition of the theme tune to Chariots of Fire. It was a very British type of humour, only heightened by the next act; a celebration of everything British. From Michael Fish’s failure to predict the weather accurately, to Gregory’s Girl, The Archers, David Bowie, Brookside (particularly that pre-watershed lesbian kiss apparently making it’s showing at the ceremony the first lesbian kiss EVER shown on Saudi TV!), Dizzee Rascal, The Rolling Stones and finally an appearance from the inventor of the World Wide Web himself, Sir Tim Berners-Lee (who actually sent a tweet whilst on stage), the final act was both a celebration of modern technology and modern British culture, something a culture nut like me was loving; attempting to spot all of the clips and songs used.

It wasn’t all exciting and bombastic. Twice did it take a more sombre, but emotionally beautiful tone. Once during Pandemonium in which soldiers removed their hats and the stadium was taken by silence apart from one lone whistle to commemorate those lost in the wars and again with a choreographed dance while Emeli Sande sung “Abide With Me” to “all those that couldn’t be there”.
Then, after all this, came the athlete’s parade, a spectacle of thousands of men and women from some countries GCSE geography neglected to tell me existed and finally the lighting of the cauldron. Probably one of the best kept secrets of the night, no-one quite knew exactly what it was. Every country had someone holding a cup like thing which looked more like a potty than anything else and it was these that made up the cauldron. A wonderful  transfer of the flame from old Olympic heroes such as Dame Kelly Holmes and Sir Steve Redgrave to the new British talents, a literal passing of the flame, and a beautiful song made just for the ceremony entitled Caliban’s Dream (sung by that bloke out of Two Door Cinema Club which felt a tad weird), the pottys were lit and slowly ascended into the sky to form a giant flame. Impressive it most certainly was and an apt end to a mesmerising ceremony.

Completely cynicism free, Danny Boyle’s Olympic ceremony was a proper celebration of Britain, not some falsified fairy tale version. Beijing’s opening was more a show of their strength and power and a totalitarian nation, similar to the Nazis in the Berlin Olympics. It was mechanistic and strong. As a country with a lot less power than we used to, Boyle felt there was no need to do it. This was very much a ceremony for the British. Judging by American reactions of it, it was often difficult to know what was going on for them. But it was an introduction to what makes Britian not that bad rather than a more general show of power and money.

A mix of high culture and low culture seemed an accurate way to show how Britain is. From Shakespeare and Blake, to Ken Loach and grime music, everything was covered here and nothing was left out. It showed a Britain that loved its welfare state, its rich heritage, one that didn’t dwell on its mistakes and embraced those things that have shaped it to what it is today.

It really did seem to be hated by the Tories, however, with a certain MP on Twitter denouncing it as essentially, leftist bullshit. Rumour has it that Jeremy Hunt even tried to persuade Boyle not to add the NHS section to the ceremony. It was a celebration of the liberal, multicultural, egalitarian side of Britain, paid for entirely by a Conservative government opposed or just ignorant to such ideas which made it all the more sweeter.

I tried to be cynical throughout and make jokes but it was so difficult when it was such a magnificent spectacle. Cinematic, moving, funny and dippy as anything, it made very little sense but was enjoyable as anything to watch. Boyle has made some mis-steps in his career but this is not one of them. Kudos Danny Boyle. Kudos.