With the Paris Olympics still reverberating weeks after it concluded, I am reminded that this spectacle was likely enhanced by the Covid lockdowns—that the exuberance surrounding the Games could be attributed to it being the world’s first such event since that dreary period of social isolation. But there was more. By deciding to utilize the center of Paris as the site for opening the Olympics, and to stage various competitions at landmarks in and around its capital, as opposed to solely relying on it-could-be-anywhere venues, France rooted the Games in “place.” It was a global event done locally. Granted, not all cities have the architectural and urban characteristics of Paris to attempt such theater, but the French should be commended for recognizing that they did and then committing to it. Given this, one wonders how Los Angeles will follow suit in 2028. Some guidance might be gained by reviewing some of the performances in the ceremonies that bookended these Games.

Paris is a city with a comprehensible center that provided the organizers with the opportunity to feature its opening ceremonies along the Seine, the line of team boats serenading the ceremonies like a chorus does a song, the beat to the event. Aligned along it from the Pont d’Austerlitz to the Trocadero, the city’s various monuments, bridges, and points of interest were transformed into fly towers and stages to project the program’s various verses and stanzas, and when that wasn’t enough, it was performed on the river itself. And all along this length, the flanking esplanades and building faces served to hold the cheering audience, the final set piece to this mass urban play. The rain just made it more dramatic.

Whatever criticisms and troubles this program and siting received or caused, it was a clear attempt to demonstrate not only the grandness of the Games, but the grandness of humanity’s creativity, how love of life can overcome what many see as our troubled times. Donned in Dior, Celine Dion’s closing enraptured rendition of the Edith Piaf classic “L’hymne à l’amour” delivered from the midstage of an lit-up Eiffel Tower was a fitting tribute to triumphing over obstacles—not only ones personal to her, but also those of all the participating athletes and countless event organizers, as well as those of the world beyond. One could sense the opening ceremonies building up to this grand finale. Though flat at times, and albeit long overall, such a momentous event, both for the Games and for the city, could not end on a whimper, but with a bang befitting this singularly legendary city. To many, Dion’s performance did just that.

Los Angeles is not that kind of city. It is diffuse, lacking a center. It’s not singular, but multiple, and seemingly endless. These urban differences should be central to the city’s planning of the 2028 Games. So how does L.A. showcase its fundamental character, what Sam Lubell recently characterized as “its disembodied episodes of beauty, fascination, and chaos,” in hosting the next Olympics? Perhaps a clue lies in reviewing a performance that was part of the closing of the Paris Games.

Unlike the opening ceremonies, France elected to close the Games in an it-could-be-anywhere stadium, but as the Olympic flag was handed over to Los Angeles during a series of choreographed clips, the actors eventually found themselves in Long Beach—one of the multiple satellites of what is understood to be Los Angeles—to perform a few musical sets. Atop a ubiquitous L.A. lifeguard stand, complete with surfboard and life vest, surrounded by extras forming a relatively small crowd and seemingly unknowing volleyball players and bystanders, Billie Eilish gave a swaying performance of her hit “Birds of a Feather.” Her seemingly unfussed dress (though surely curated) and that of her bandmates reflected a part of L.A.’s culture, its easy-going part. The landscape setting—with the clear, omnipresent sunshine and the soft sand and the breaking waves beyond—projected the same. This staged set was not the powerful almost operatic performance by Celine Dion for the French anthem of love belted out from the Eiffel Tower, with all of Paris lying below, but simply a skilled singing of a silky love song from atop a modest perch amid a snippet of scenery evoking the L.A. dream. This was no grand finale. There was no build up to it. Eilish’s performance was merely one sandwiched between other music sets. This served to present it as simply a moment—an L.A. moment, just passing by.

Having lived in Los Angeles for more than 30 years, I’ve learned that the city’s rich diversity is experienced as a collection of moments, and more as a patchwork rather than at a concentrated center. The space between these L.A. moments is seemingly orchestrated by its boulevards and freeways, lags of time that form gaps in one’s memory, which contrasts with the continuity one feels walking through the various arrondissements of Paris. And those moments might occur around one of Los Angeles’ numerous landmarks, but they can also occur serendipitously anywhere in the city: a glance at a beautiful sunset, a touch of a cool canyon breeze, driving along an electrified Sunset Boulevard, or discovering a tucked-away urban oasis, of which there are many. Other cities are experienced through moments, too, and are certainly not as homogeneous as they may appear. But in a city that lacks a center, and that is so diverse and disembodied, such moments in Los Angeles have heightened impact and the narratives they compose are the lifeblood of the city’s spirit. No doubt, the image of Los Angeles is also composed of those iconic scenes that it uses to promote itself—as parts of L.A.’s contribution to the closing ceremonies surrendered to, and probably will again for 2028—but it is also made up of many varied, intimate moments less promoted but every bit as important to the presentation of the city. 

Experiencing the city as an array of moments is the logical result of a city as extended as Los Angeles. And this delivery system is appropriate to the city that celebrates the individual and the culture of self-expression that comes with it. Granted, Eilish is no unknown, and the scenery of her performance was an iconic image of Los Angeles, but the temperament in how it was presented was neither. Though it was a scripted moment, all such performances at the Olympics are. The question is the attitude projected by these scripts. By infusing some of the city’s iconic aspects with an L.A. everyday bah oui (“yes, of course!”) attitude, that closing musical performance expressed the hope that you could experience this in L.A., and that the possibility of experiencing any number of other various L.A. moments is what attracts many people to the city. That is the desire that fuels Los Angeles’ ephemeral lifestyle as opposed to living in the grand historic center of Paris. That is how to project L.A.’s fundamental character.

As an entertainment capital, Los Angeles indeed has its share of spectacle events, but its large geographic footprint diffuses the excitement of most to the scale of its supporting tribe. But the Games are intended to be a spectacle of the grandest kind, the kind of celebration that invites everyone to share in the experience of our whole being greater than the sum of our parts, no matter how diverse. A relatively compact city like Paris allows the opportunity for that Olympic spirit to rub off more easily and convert those formally disinterested bystanders into part of the celebration. This is the challenge before LA 2028: how to invite all to being part of something bigger than ourselves in a place that has evolved to project, in many ways, just the opposite. 

But given that most view the Olympics on television, the mechanics of editing can overcome Los Angeles’ many spatial gaps and distances to capture those moments in a mediated continuum. The Paris Games relied on these techniques for a good portion of their opening ceremonies, and as always with the Olympics, in their presentation of the various competitions. Granted, this will not help those who experience the 2028 Games in person—but then, perhaps, that provides Los Angeles with a real deadline to solve some of its real problems, like further enhancing its public transportation to increase the efficiency of traversing its vast lands and solving its homeless problem. Paris, like Tokyo before it, removed its (smaller) homeless population from the city center for the Games. Los Angeles, with a much larger such population spread across its terrain, will be greatly challenged to do the same.

Overall, though, Los Angeles could continue a path of ambition applied in Paris. France demonstrated in its opening flourish the courage to take risks, to risk subjecting itself to ridicule and public criticism (which it did receive for parts) for the purposes of celebrating its cultural diversity—historically, socially, and creatively—with unexpected juxtapositions. Witness the beheaded Marie Antoinettes in the windows of the Conciergerie that accompanied the performance of the 19th Century French anthem “Ah! Ça Ira” by heavy-metal band Gojira and opera singer Marina Viotti. Or the French Malian pop star Aya Nakamura, decked in gold, strutting on the Pont des Arts in front of the Académie Française, the guardian of the French language, proudly singing her slang-infused lyrics in beat with her accompanying Republican Guard band. There were many other such examples of cultural collage, and this spirit extended to the locations of various competitions in and around Paris (beach volleyball under the Eiffel Tower, anyone?). Los Angeles, with its multitude of cultures and diverse sites spread over time, place, and manner, has the raw material to take similar creative risks for 2028.

The goal of L.A. 2028 should be to ground this global show in the local. This is what made the Paris Olympics memorable, and this can be what makes the Los Angeles Games be the same. Paris was smart to favor showcasing what they have, as opposed to what they can do. Los Angeles is in a similar position. And where France exploited the heroic character of Paris for the Games, Los Angeles perhaps would be wise to respond by exploiting its resilient character—which by nature is dependent on a succession of challenges met as exhibited by its diverse moments of urban culture. And, lest we forget, the athletes are ultimately the heroes and the center of any Olympics—and for them, we can only watch and marvel.

Featured image: France smoke flag, at the opening of the games, via Wikimedia Commons.