Great Olympics opening show in Paris last night. I thought I’d have a quick look on tv, and then kept watching to the end at midnight. Impressive celebration of French cultural identity in a hugely inclusive way and embedded in the wider European context. Reactionary heads around Europe and the world must have exploded, at this display of embracing one’s national identity without resorting to othering anyone for it.

The beheaded Marie-Antoinettes rocking to heavy metal and opera while arterial blood spouts from the royal’s last Paris residence, liberty in part interpreted as a polyamorous trio celebrating French romantic literature in the library before discretely closing the hotel room door on us, the Dionysian festivities turned gender and age diverse catwalk on the bridge rocking to Euro disco, the golden statues rising from the Seine river of impactful French women, among them two who worked to legalise abortion, the dancer using sign language in their choreography, Assassin’s Creed Arno Dorian phantom like parcouring across Paris with the Olympic flame later taken over by not just one but a whole range of French and international sports heroes (including the oldest living French gold medallist at 100), to collectively light the Olympic fire, while La Giaconda floated away unnoticed on the Seine. Aya Nakamura, who endured a racist storm of abuse at the mere suggestion she might as France’s current internationally best selling artist have a role in the opening, performing with the 176 years old French Republican Guard band. All the little nods and layerings of intention and connections woven into it. It was joyous. It was meaningful.

Joyous too was having the opening ceremony not just escape but completely doing away with the customary stadium setting. The entire city center along the Seine was used as a stage. The city as a platform is an often used metaphor and it came to life here. The national anthem sung by Axelle Saint-Cirel from the enormous glass dome roof of the Grand Palais, the parcours route of the Olympic flame I mentioned, the boat parade on the river of the over 200 national olympic delegations, using the Eiffel Tower for a tremendous light show in sync with the music, Celine Dion performing from half way up the Eiffel Tower itself, and letting the Olympic flame rise above the city from the Tuileries on a balloon (a final nod to ballooning’s French start in 1783).

With all that, who cares they raised the Olympic flag upside down. They got the humanly important details right. Stuff happens, c’est la vie.