Even though I haven’t been sitting up all night watching obscure sports I’ve never followed before, if I start watching the Olympics, I still find it hard to tear myself away from the screen. I’m sure a lot of people have the same problem. There’s something incredibly sticky and addictive about the games, although in the four years that separate this Olympiad from the next, I’m doubt I’ll ever give a thought to women’s water polo or hurdles or discus throwing.
The big controversy so far, aside from the gender confusion in the boxing ring, has been the ‘blasphemous’ moment in the opening ceremony, when a group of drag queens and mythological figures arranged themselves in front of a banquet table. A chubby girl with a starry crown sat in the place where Jesus sits in Leonardo da Vinci’s famous painting of the Last Supper, while a blue Bacchus materialised on the table in front of her.
Although the whole ‘scandal’ may seem pretty ridiculous it demonstrates for the umpteenth time what an angry, ignorant, hypersensitive world we now inhabit. Even those of little faith have been able to rant against the insidious “wokeism” they see at work in everything, or at least in everything that involves drag queens. What strikes me most forcibly about the whole affair is the iconic power of Leonardo’s picture, which appears to define the Last Supper for all those people who were so mortally offended by this bit of bawdy theatre.
There are no on-the-spot images of the Last Supper, and we only have the word of Matthew, Mark, Luke and Corithians 11:23-25 that it actually happened. To doubt its veracity is unthinkable for true believers, but that’s no reason to take Leonardo’s version as the one, true definitive snapshot of the event. It’s an artist’s interpretation, a work of the imagination (c. 1495-98), not a sacred icon.
The unfortunately named Thomas Jolly, the artistic director of the opening ceremonies, has denied point blank that the scene was modelled on Leonardo’s painting. He says it was always intended as a Bacchanalian feast, in reference to the Greek – pagan – origins of the Olympics. Art historians have been quick to point to another possible model – a Feast of the Gods (1635-40), by Jan van Bijlert, in the Magnin Museum in Dijon, but this doesn’t seem to have allayed the anger of offended Christians who have decided not to turn the other cheek, but to send death threats. They must be from the ranks of those evangelicals who believe Trump is the messiah.
Even if van Bijlert’s painting was the real inspiration, the tableau vivant came awfully close to reproducing Leonardo’s composition. Was it perhaps in the back of the producers’ minds?
To understand the hold Leonardo’s Last Supper has on the popular imagination, one might consult Umberto Eco’s essay, ‘Travels in Hyperreality’, in the book of the same name, also known as Faith in Fakes (1986). Travelling between San Francisco and Los Angeles, Eco was able to visit no fewer than seven three-dimensional wax versions of The Last Supper.
As a rule the Last Supper is displayed in the final room, with symphonic background music and a son et lumière atmosphere. Not infrequently you are admitted to a room where the waxwork Supper is behind a curtain that slowly parts, as the taped voice, in deep and emotional tones, simultaneously informs you that you are having the most extraordinary spiritual experience of your life, and that you must tell your friends and acquaintances about it. Then comes some information about the redeeming mission of Christ and the exceptional character of the great event portrayed, summarised in evangelical phrases.
And this is 40 years ago, within the mere 550 kms that separate SF and LA. There are Last Supper reproductions all over America, each dedicated to improving on Leonardo’s rather dilapidated original. Arizona boasts the largest Last Supper Museum in the USA!
Is it surprising that Leonardo’s rendition is considered the true and holy original by so many people? I’ll abstain from any comments on the insular nature of the American mind.
In other respects, the Olympic opening ceremonies were perfectly tailored to the insular mind, being a spellbinding cavalcade of kitsch such as the world had never seen. I confess I didn’t watch it all, as it was doin’ me head in, doctor. What I did manage to watch was notable for the outlandish way the French conspired to kitschify their greatest cultural achievements. It was a vision of France that woud satisfy those who believe all Frenchmen wear berets and striped jerseys, carrying a baguette under one arm. Was anything left out? Did any cultural icon manage to escape unmolested? One can only admire such chutzpah, to use the appropriate French term. I only wish Umberto Eco was still with us, to write another essay.
The art column this week is (probably) my final look at ancient Egypt for the year. The exhibition, Discovering Ancient Egypt, from the Dutch Museum of Antiquities, currently at the National Museum of Australia, is the most sober and scolarly of the three shows we’ve seen in 2024, and the only one with mummies. It’s hard to believe there are people who would be shocked and offended at the site of these bandaged bodies, but the museum is taking no chances, with an impeccably sensitive presentation. If you are one of these faint-hearted types, don’t be discouraged, as there’s plenty of other stuff that commands attention.
The movie under review is the biggest box office smash of the year – Deadpool & Wolverine. There’s nothing profound to be said about this violent, frivolous, incomprehensible flick, but it seems to be giving the masses exactly what they want. One wonders if anyone who couldn’t bring themselves to look at a mummy in a glass case will be turning up to watch Deadpool and Wolverine slaughter hundreds of enemies in the most brutal manner? And how about those devout folks so mortally offended by the blasphemous French slur on The Last Supper? Will they be just as censorious about the gore and profanity in this Marvel comics feature, or simply go along for the fun of it all?