Saturday, August 14, 2004

REVIEW: Olympic Opening Ceremony

Okay, my quick take, sans pointed satire:

OVERALL SHOW -

Great stuff. I thought it was like Fellini meets Salvador Dali!

I kept expecting the Pope to ride out on roller skates ala the Ecumenical Fashion Show scene from "Roma"!

And what a nice impersonalized 'Blade Runner' look -- what with the gigantic projected morphing faces on the dismembered body parts! Great homage to and inkling of the upcoming 21st century!

SYMBOLISM EXPLAINED: Floating over a world flooded with H20... The perfect, greek god body of Humankind will eventually be dismembered by radical Islam, American Imperialism, corporate Commericalism, and lots of water thanks to global warming. (Ahh, can't wait!) Human Love (Eros) will come with strings attached, controlled by a mysterious invisible computer somewhere in Heaven.

Additional comment: I thought the PREGNANT WOMAN with the back-lighted alien baby bulge was kinda scary. ...What happens if "Rosemary's Baby" is conceived at Chernobyl? Wow. More multi-level symbolism for the 21st century!


NBC's DIRECTING - Somebody PULL BACK on the fucking Close-Ups, will ya!!

I'd say 80% of the effect of that 'diorama parade' was MISSING thanks to a director who was either too tight or too loose on the camera shots. The artistry of those 'floats' was lost most of the time, cut-off by shots that were too tight. I'd rather see the whole thing, floor to ceiling, than some extreme close up of a Greek dude in pancake makeup. Spend millions of dollars and hours on the things, and then some smash-cut fuckup at NBC allocates 1.5 seconds for the audience to see 'em. Whoops! Just got the tail end of the entire history of early Greece. See that butt disappearing off screen? Alexander the Great.

Katie: He was in the first Olympics, but apparently he didn't do so hot.
Costas: He was probably called, "Alexander the Not-so-great". heha.
Katie: Can we get a rim-shot? hehe.


BJORK

Good gawd, what's wrong with you people!? This shit passes for talent?

Bjork. What's she famous for? A swan dress. Yeah, in the world of ballet, she would have just been another wannabee, some obscure extra destined to fetch coffee and give blow-jobs between bouts of bulimia. But no, not in the world of POP COMMERCE. No, she's almost as famous as that Irish chick with the burr haircut who tore up a picture of the Pope!

Bjork, schmork. What can I say about her alleged 'song' (I use the term loosely) and her alleged 'performance'?

Suffice it to say that Suicide Intervention Hot-Lines lit up all over the world during her five minutes of overexposure.

I haven't been that depressed since the time I heard an Enya song in Dr. Kervorkian's waiting room.

Anwyay, it would have been more interesting if she would have had a 'costume malfunction' -- but then again -- we wouldn't have gotten a glimpse of the planet earth in satin.

nnnnnn.... wake me... zzzzzzzzzzzzz.... if she finds the melody... then you can pry this pistol out of my paws.


THE COMMERCIALS

NBC obviously figured that the opening ceremonies would be, as they say in PORNO movies, the Money Shot, so they obviously wanted to cram a few thousand commercials into as little time as possible. (Hopefully, the first four hours, which is the ONLY time anyone actually gives a shit.)

When the last beautiful note of a particular section finished, WHAM! -- a digital dog dancing for Kibbles. (...Sorta like at classic music concerts when the last profound lingering note fades -- and the composer was hoping the audience would settle into at least a few precious SILENT seconds of contemplation or epiphany -- when that 3% of yer typical audience members who want to be THE FIRST to applaud don't even let the echo die after the last note before they start whackin' their fins together like a herd of walrus on crack.)

Note: I rarely take a weapon to these events just because of the potential lapses in manners of my fellow semi-domesticated primates.


THE COMMENTARY

Jeesus, I'd rather have a molten gold, silver, and bronze enema than spend three hours listening to Katie (Satan Incarnate) Couric and "Mr. Insightful for Dummies", Bob Costas. I'm surprised Katie didn't do one of her trademark stories on some recently deceased person:

Katie: "The man playing the satyr, Oespidicus Piticusiosus, is a Greek actor who recently lost his only child in a construction accident very near here. I interviewed him yesterday shortly after rehearsals."

{cut to "Up Close & Personal Tape"}

Katie (to Mr. Piticusiosus): Sir, you found your child dead and beheaded. I know it's tough for you, but... WHAT DID IT FEEL LIKE? Can you describe your feelings when you held that bloody, headless body in your arms? I'd imagine it was quite a difficult moment. Describe it..."

[hopefully, America squirts a few -- thinking what a sensitive 'journalist' Katie is.]

I hope that if Hell exists, Katie Couric gets to spend eternity looking up at the bare, cloud-covered feet of the many dead she exploited in her career.

(Whew. Did I say that?)

Anyway, back to the COMMENTARY:

So here's a tip, not just for future Opening Ceremonies, but for the upcoming gymnastics too. When there is visual art onscreen -- accompanied by appropriate music --

SHUT THE FUCK UP.

'kay?

JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Katie: ...That's a really complicated set up.
Costas: ...Yes, that's a really complicated set up. Must have taken a lot of work.
Katie: ...Yeah, a lot of work. Lots.
Bob: ..Uh-huh. ...A whole lot.
Katie: ...Oh, that's Eros... the god of love.
Costas: Heh... I wonder if he uses Trojans. hehe.
Katie: Oh, Bobbbbb. Tee hee.

Oh, and did I mention to the upcoming COMMENTATORS for Gymnastics?

... when somebody is doing their thing to music, you don't have to say,

"She's about to do a double entendre flip with a lemon twist -- which she failed to do in practice -- and I know her mother is watching -- yes, there's a close-up of her waving the flag with tears in her eyes..."

In other words, SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Anyway, it's good to know that in these troubled times, we can put down our differences, racial hatred, and religious animosity -- to come together, to become the perfect target for murderous militant terrorists -- and to celebrate human skill, speed, grace, endurance, ingenuity with steriods, and gross examples of Nationalistic Ethnocentricities.

It's nice to know that every four years, the world can assemble in one place to hear fat, ugly, obnoxious Americans chant:

U - S - A!

U - S - A!

U - S - A!

U - S - A!

U - S - A!



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