Writers, critics and campaigners give their view of Danny Boyle's spectacular curtain-raiser to the sporting spectacular
Ai Weiwei: It was about real people
Brilliant. It was very, very well done. This was about Great Britain; it didn't pretend it was trying to have global appeal. Because Great Britain has self-confidence, it doesn't need a monumental Olympics. But for China that was the only imaginable kind of international event. Beijing's Olympics were very grand – they were trying to throw a party for the world, but the hosts didn't enjoy it. The government didn't care about people's feelings because it was trying to create an image.
In London, they really turned the ceremony into a party – they are proud of themselves and respect where they come from, from the industrial revolution to now. I never saw an event before that had such a density of information about events and stories and literature and music; about folktales and movies.
At the beginning it dealt with historical events – about the land and machinery and women's rights – epically and poetically. The director really did a superb job in moving between those periods of history and today, and between reality and the movies. The section on the welfare state showed an achievement to be truly proud of. It clearly told you what the nation is about: children, nurses and a dream. A nation that has no music and no fairytales is a tragedy.
There were historical elements in the Beijing opening ceremony, but the difference is that this was about individuals and humanity and true feelings; their passion, their hope, their struggle. That came through in their confidence and joy. It's really about a civil society. Ours only reflected the party's nationalism. It wasn't a natural reflection of China.
Few of the people were performers. They were ordinary people who contribute to society – and if there is a celebration, then it should be for everyone from the Queen to a nurse. I feel happy that they can all have their moment to tell their story.
It was about real people and real events and showed the independent mind of the director, but at the same time it had so much humour. There was a strong sense of the British character.
The Chinese ceremony had so much less information and it wasn't even real. It wasn't only about the little girl who was miming – which was an injury to her and the girl whose voice was used – but that symbolically showed the nation's future. You can't trust or rely on individuals or the state's efforts.
In London there were more close-ups – it didn't show the big formations. It had the human touch. In Zhang Yimou's opening ceremony there was almost none of that. You could not push into a person's face and see the human experience. What I liked most with this was that it always came back to very personal details. And that's what makes it a nation you can trust; you see the values there. Anyone who watched it would have a clear understanding of what Britain is.
Miranda Sawyer: A collective vision
Horny-handed men of toil doing a Stand and Deliver formation dance. Hundreds of NHS nurses combining to assist the birth of a giant glowing baby (pictured). Those amazing butterfly bicycles.
It seems daft to pick out individual elements of this great and glorious pageant – though James Bond's helicopter ride with the Queen was a proper "whoop whoop" moment – as Danny Boyle's vision was a deliberately collective one. He chose to celebrate what we can achieve together. When he picked out single people – Isambard Kingdom Brunel, Tim Berners-Lee, Mr Bean – it was to highlight what they gave to us all. Berners-Lee's words on the openness of the web, flashed around the stadium in letters the size of skyscrapers, was what this event was about. This Is For Everyone.
At times I was reminded of the Green Fields at Glastonbury at 5am – the drums, the people, the benevolent united madness – and Danny Boyle's come-one-come-all attitude is very post-rave. It extended right through to the lighting of the flame by seven young athletes and the petals of that flame, one for each competing country, coming together to form one enormous torch. A proper goosebumps moment, but just one among many.
The music section, though it sounded great, was the least successful visually, as a house flashing with images of Hugh Grant bibbling, of Renton running, just didn't seem all that thrilling after we'd had an enormous Voldemort growing before our very eyes. And there were a few weird omissions – no Oasis? Stone Roses? Primal Scream? Adele? – though, to be honest, they might have been in there but just whizzed past. To see Dizzee Rascal belt out Bonkers really did make me proud.
That wouldn't have happened anywhere else. The United States has the musical chops, but would have drowned us with gloop and sentiment.
The only bit that failed was good old Sir Paul McCartney: not because he's bad, but because he seems to have been singing Hey Jude in a stadium for the past five years. It felt slightly hackneyed, something we've seen before, and nothing else – absolutely nothing else – about this ceremony was anything other than original.
It was terrific, spectacular, moving, wonderful. Oh, the joy of people! It made me cry.
Nicholas Kenyon: Music from the iPod shuffle generation
So this is what it means to be British today. Danny Boyle's delirious dreamscape wove together pageantry, pastoral, pain and pride to create a new vision of nationhood – a supremely fresh portrait of that special mixture of enduring tolerance and suppressed passion that has always underlined our national identity. A powerful sense of community drove every moment of the swirling, surreal sequence, from the gentle, idealised, pastoral idyll that began it, though the iron-forging impact of the industrial revolution, to the healing hospital sequences and the diversity created by immigration – all involving hundreds of volunteers demonstrating superhuman commitment in the vast Olympic arena.
Voices united the nations of the kingdom, but singing their hymns and songs unaccompanied, without any bombast: Jerusalem an unearthly single line, Abide With Me a personal lament stripped to the bone. Elgar mingled with David Bowie, Handel with Dizzee Rascal: it was (at least until the final predictable McCartney singalong) the music of the iPod shuffle age.
What has created our imagined memory of Britishness now? Boyle's answer was phantasmagorically all-inclusive: EastEnders, the Archers, Monty Python, CND, the Jarrow crusade, Kes, Four Weddings and a Funeral, The Full Monty – endlessly varied allusions, barely linked, a multimedia collage of images stocked somewhere at the back of our minds. We have an enduring problem in a culturally diverse era, because those who value our tradition and love our history too often cling to it as a reassurance to imagine the past has not changed. And those whose motto used to be Cool Britannia reject the past as a useless burden and abandon all sense of heritage (remember the Dome?)
Boyle pointed beyond that to an attempt at reintegration: there was no Rule Britannia here, no mindless waving of union flags. At every point, heritage was valued, but gently undermined by humour: the corgis left on the steps of Buckingham Palace by the Queen's departing helicopter, Rowan Atkinson wittily sending up Chariots of Fire, a royal kiss matched by a same-sex kiss. It wasn't Land of Hope and Glory that we were all invited to come together and sing, it was I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles: a postmodern picture of a world in search of its future.
It wasn't quite a new Jerusalem, yet. To create a newly reconciled Britain of old and new, tradition and innovation – that is surely a task beyond any single event, even the most watched TV spectacular in the world. But what Danny Boyle and his committed crowds reflected with honesty, vividness and piercing imagination was a supremely humane vision of where we are now, and how we have become what we are. It will stay in the mind a long time after the Games. The world could not ask for more.
Nicholas Kenyon is an Observer critic and managing director of the Barbican Centre
Emmy the Great: It made me addicted to patriotism
Like many Londoners, I've spent the last six months making an Olympic sport of complaining about the Olympics. Complaining, I felt, is what we do best, along with being cynical, unwelcoming to visitors, and a bit moany about traffic. All the bloody adverts! Giving directions to tourists! Those awful mascots. Danny Boyle was going to have to come at me with a wrecking ball to break down the barriers of uninterest that I had erected. And in a way he did. In fact, it's really hard writing this without the excessive use of capitals. I don't think I've ever felt quite such a bewildering mixture of true excitement and national pride over things I never really had an opinion on before, like Harry Potter, or Mr Bean, who had me weeping with laughter. During the runup I was aware that there are things about England that I am proud of. Not sport, really, but culture, and the NHS. To see this reflected on the screen during the opening ceremony actually blew my mind. I thought the NHS scene was incredibly brave, and I loved how much pop music featured. Whenever I travel, I am always aware of how our rich culture of great rock'n'roll affects people's opinion of us abroad.
I feel like Boyle got the tone right every step of the way. It was knowing, but sincere, dark and hilarious, like we are. And it was everything I needed to get excited about the next few weeks. By the end of the night, I was so addicted to patriotism I started cheering for countries that I'd visited, or that I'd once met someone from. It felt amazing.
I think all the medals should be melted down and made into one giant medal for Danny Boyle. They should just make him king of something. He should get to marry the Queen. Neither the royal wedding or jubilee gave me warm feelings towards the monarchy, but the sight of the Queen jumping out of a helicopter with James Bond has just made me her biggest fan. I love how deadpan she was. It's like she's spent the last 60 years gearing up towards this moment, so we could see that her no-smile policy is a humour device. I feel like Kenneth Branagh in the industrial revolution scene right now, looking upon Britain with satisfaction and pride. Go team!
Jackie Kay: Bonkers, but brilliant bonkers
Within seconds I'm hooked: Brunel, Branagh, Bond, Bean … breathtaking, bold, brazen. Boyle might well have sat with his dictionary open at the letter B, but I'm giving him an A gold star. Boyle's bonanza even included Oh Danny Boy at the beginning, which is what I find myself saying at the end: oh Danny boy. It is bonkers. But brilliant bonkers! It effortlessly mixed the past with the present, the working class with the Queen, fact with fiction, and told the complex dual narratives of these islands, sometimes tongue in cheek: even the Queen got a doppelgänger. It seemed that Boyle had invented a new kind of opening ceremony, a concept ceremony, one that embraces big ideas as passionately as it does technical flamboyancy. The singing flaming copper kettles was a wow moment. Another favourite was the cycling doves of peace (or were they angels?), one of them rising like ET. It was moving, the countries parading in their snazzy outfits (my favourite was Cameroon). It made you think, if all these nations can come together for sport, then please. It made you long for peace. Nice touch, the dancers forming into the CND sign, the arrival of the Windrush, the stadium builders there for the arrival of the flame, the flag carried by, among others, Doreen Lawrence. The inspiring use of volunteers.The laid-back way that Boyle showed us all in all our colours; the inclusiveness did not feel forced. It moved from the pastoral to the industrial to the digital with athletic alacrity, using film and theatre and symbols along the way. It was bitty, it was dotty, but the bits made a whole, and we joined the dots. It will keep us thinking. In the future, people will study this ceremony and find other hidden clues. A fantastic neverland of them. It will be replayed. It might be the only gold we get.
Jackie Kay is a Scottish poet and novelist
Trevor Phillips: A dazzling, inventive tapestry
This was not the Britain that the world knows. But Britishness isn't about pedestrian reality; it's about myth – what we tell ourselves we have been, and what we hope to be.
Danny Boyle's pageant took shards of our folk memory, and threads of our everyday experience and conjured a beguiling vision of the Britain that we could be – energetic, inventive, witty, profound, and delightful. Every part of our inherited culture was woven into a dazzling tapestry.
Who will ever forget the forging of the rings; the wicked Mr Bean send-up; or Her Majesty's impeccable comic timing?
Anyone who thinks that this was just a sparkling mash-up of British history has missed the point entirely. From the opening anthems to the blistering party night Boyle asserted our tolerance and diversity as the quintessential British quality. I was moved by the appearance of the Windrush story – a recent piece of myth-making in which my own family played an important part. And the most striking thing about the Saturday-night-in scene was that in 21st-century Britain, its multiracial family no longer seemed striking at all.
Boyle's genius has created a new myth about a Britain made rich and vibrant by its diversity, for others to see and to admire. To people in countries impoverished and racked by ethnic bias and religious conflict, this will look like the true wonder of these isles.
Trevor Phillips is chair of the Equality and Human Rights Commission
Martin Durkin: Dim-brained leftwing history
When it comes to blowing vast quantities of other people's money, no one can beat the Statist left. So it was entirely appropriate to entrust the Olympic opening jamboree to the miserable northern socialist Danny Boyle.
He kicked off with apple-cheeked villagers prancing round the maypole and frolicking in their feudal rural idyll, but then came the sound of ominous drums. To everyone's horror, giant menacing, smoking factory chimneys started to rise up from the land. In the background, the moaning Romantic Blake was doing his dark satanic stuff, while the BBC commentator laid it on thick about wicked industry disfiguring the landscape and cruelly uprooting everyone. I was still reeling from this extravagant display of dim-brained leftwing history, and looking in vain for any mention of Newton, global trade and so on, when suddenly whole wards of hospital beds were wheeled on. My daughter asked me what the glowing duvets were meant to represent. John Lewis? But then the stadium was flooded with light, and three giant flaming letters shouted out the answer … NHS.
It was at this point that I choked on my gin and tonic. What really sets Britain apart (besides our shocking nationalised health system) is the brilliant achievement of being the first proper capitalist nation, and everything that went with it: far greater prosperity for ordinary people, parliamentary democracy, toleration, a sense of fair play and decency and humour (which Rowan Atkinson represented very nicely).
But in the topsy-turvy world of Danny Boyle, industrial capitalism is what's wicked and shameful about Britain. What's good is the NHS – not because of the quality of health provided (how could it be?!), but because it is state-owned.
Polly Stenham: The BBC commentary was hilarious
I didn't know this was a directing gig you could have – it's the best directing job on the planet, 2 billion people watching your nutcase ideas.
It was a massive school play! You had the best boys in the band, and the headmistress the Queen, then all the audience participating. You had the bits that weren't so good, that kind of fucked up, but it kept in the spirit of England's school play. I felt very uplifted by it. The use of the Tempest was brilliant. It was fabulous, and it was right that it all unravelled from a bit of Shakespeare.
The BBC commentary was absolutely hilarious, they had no idea what was going on. I thought the best bit, the sexiest bit, was the Arctic Monkeys doing Come Together. Unlike Beijing, it had a sense of humour. The Queen in the helicopter was brilliant – the moment with Bond and the helicopter was the moment we beat Beijing! Ending with McCartney was smart and predictable and it felt right. I felt very proud, it was raggle-taggle and messy and had so many volunteers – it had a really nice spirit to it.
My only criticism is that it lost its mind for about 10mins, but I think that was because something had to be cut. There was some business with a boy and a girl and some mobile phones, but I didn't understand that at all. Aside from that it was fabulous and I liked the way some of it wasn't right. Something slick and military-esque would have left me a bit cold.
Harvey Goldsmith: It really was sensational
I was lucky: I went to the final dress rehearsal and I watched it on TV on the night, so I've seen both sides of it.
Coming out of the dress rehearsal I thought it was extraordinary. The difficulty is how you capture that on TV. They did a pretty good job, but it really was sensational live.
Most people loved the Bond bit, but I wasn't so overjoyed because it didn't seem to finish off properly. You saw them jump out of the helicopter and then it didn't end. If Craig had arrived in the stadium that would've made it all work. The Queen bit was funny and clever, but it was a bit disjointed.
I was wondering what people abroad would think with all of the quirkiness, and some of the things like the Archers must have been a bit strange! The Rowan Atkinson part was a stroke of genius.
The balance between dealing with the scale of it in a stadium and capturing it on TV is always difficult. He made it as if it was a movie, the way it morphed from the first scene with the cows and the cricket and so on, and it traversed the history really nicely.
The other thing I was impressed with is the sound in the stadium – it was amazing, I didn't expect that at all. It's not easy in a place that size. You can always pick holes in something of this size and scale but overall it was pretty fantastic.
Amber Charles: An interactive show
It really was incredible. It wasn't a tense atmosphere in the stadium – it was like when you go to a really big festival or concert and everyone's happy to be there.
The lights on the chairs were amazing and people could pick them up and move them. It was a really interactive show. We were right in the moshpit, so we could see everything – you weren't just sitting there watching, you felt like you were involved in it.
Everything was a surprise on the night. My mum was involved in the dancing, so had seen the rehearsals, but she didn't tell me. I met the guy who designed the cauldron and he wouldn't tell us anything about it. When we saw the kids holding the little metal things we had no idea what they were doing – I thought it might be a seashell or something. When we realised what it actually was, it was amazing.
Before it started I called my friends and asked them to videotape it for me. Watching it in person is amazing but we didn't get to see some of the stuff that happened on the other side of the stadium. I wanted to see all of it.
I was really proud. Everyone knows London walks to the beat of our own drum, we have our own swagger. It was nothing like any opening ceremony I've ever seen. It epitomised the nation. This is our country, our history, this is what you're going to get. It shows the International Olympic Committee that we've taken this seriously and that this is going to be the greatest.
Amber Charles was one of 34 other teenagers who were flown to Singapore in 2005 to help persuade the International Olympic Committee that her generation needed the Games to bring hope and opportunity to their neighbourhoods.
PY Gerbeau: Typical British humour
It was extremely British, extremely eccentric, and an incredible challenge to take on. People say maybe not everyone understood it – I tell you, everybody understood it. The only thing that didn't compute with me was the NHS bit. But I'm being detailed here because it was breathtaking, phenomenal, every single adjective.
It was full of nice touches with David Beckham, Muhammad Ali, and I had my money forever on Steve Redgrave to light it. He's the best British Olympic athlete ever, and he personalises every value of the Olympic movement.
Forget British at its best, it was entertainment at its best. From all the cock-ups at previous events, Britain has shown its best face to the world and it was so important to do it.
The Bond bit with her majesty showed the world the typical British sense of humour. It's so important to start on a good note. It's all about the intangibles – you can argue about the budget for it, but it will affect lots of things, and the least important is the economy.
The logistics of the operation was massive, but we need to hold our breath and hope for success of the whole Olympics, not just the ceremony.
You'll always get the stories about the bus driver getting lost, or the wrong flag. Hopefully after last night these stories will be a bit of fun, not a drama.
PY Gerbeau is the former chief executive of the Millennium Dome
Source: http://www.guardian.co.uk/sport/2012/jul/29/london-2012-opening-ceremony-reviews
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