By EUGENIO BUCCI*
All of humanity's gestures follow the grammar learned in the vastness and debauchery of social — or antisocial — networks.
It appeared on the front page of newspapers and circulated widely on social media. You saw the photo, a truly Olympic scene. In the center of the podium, Brazilian Rebeca Andrade raises both hands to the sky, turns her face upwards and smiles like someone who no longer owes anything to anyone. She is there to receive the gold medal in the artistic gymnastics solo event. A glory. Beside her, two other athletes, one on the left and one on the right, bow to the champion, like subjects of a queen. The already legendary Simone Biles, silver medalist, and Jordan Chiles, bronze medalist, both from the United States, lower their heads and bow to the Brazilian's majesty.
The image denotes greatness, generosity and a supportive spirit, without any vanity. These virtues were not common even on Olympus. Zeus and his guests, given to outbursts of jealousy and envy, promoted intrigues and plotted unspeakable revenge. Simone Biles and Jordan Chiles, when they bowed to honor an opponent's victory, were more Olympian than the Greek gods.
The television showed it. The two then held hands with Rebeca Andrade and exchanged looks like someone who admires each other in their hearts. Together, they showed that the important thing is not to compete, but to be able to happily overcome the state of competition.
Other than that, they posed, took care of the staging. They were clearly aware of their condition as beings seen in the spectacle of the world and knew very well what they were staging for the photographers' lenses. Simone Biles and Jordan Chiles acted in a coordinated manner and even had fun with their synchronized complicity. They delivered their message with mastery, with charm, with perfection. Premeditatedly.
Which begs the question: does intentionality empty the merit of reverence? Not at all, not at all. The message of the three gymnasts in celebration reached the hearts of the global audience and will remain for a long time at the highest level of the best memories of the Olympic Games. But we cannot help but notice, while we applaud the beauty of the well-being of sportswomen, that everything in this civilization is presented and consumed in the form of images loaded with sentimentality. Just like science, religion, politics and war, athletics also translates into tearful melodrama, whether for bad or for good, as is the present case.
Another photo that spread across the continents and especially the seas was that of Brazilian surfer Gabriel Medina suspended in the air. I know you saw it too. Gabriel Medina is standing, with his right index finger pointing upwards, his arm extended, as if waving on a sidewalk, calmly, calmly, like a… surfer. Everything is normal there, except for the fact that he floats in space. His feet line up horizontally, stepping on an invisible ground. Beside him, the board, parallel to his body, aligned like a plumb line, seems to rest on the same invisible floor. In the background, impassive and incredulous clouds complete the scene.
Gabriel Medina also had command of what he was staging. He also gave his message perfectly: he is number 1, he knows he is number 1, he knows he is being watched in the world's show and he knows how to speak the language of the show. Masterfully.
Now, a technical observation. The scene of the three dark-skinned girls was clicked by hundreds of entertainment professionals. An innumerable camera proletariat is the author of the image. The scene with the surfer who flies standing up, no. Only one portrait artist, Frenchman Jerome Brouillet, captured the moment. Points for him. All credits to him.
Other than that, it doesn't make any difference. Athletes, priests, generals, scientists, actresses, police chiefs, mothers of saints and relatives of mothers of saints are beings trained by the codes of the photographic — or cinematic — image. All of humanity's gestures follow the grammar learned in the vastness and debauchery of social — or antisocial — networks. In our world, babies learn to say “x” to cell phones before they even learn to pronounce the word “mother” — and adults show off in the spotlight as if they were babies.
That's why Gabriel Medina, Simone Biles, Jordan Chiles and Rebeca Andrade orient their bodies to the same place: the social gaze, that curved and intangible screen that has an insatiable scopic appetite and swallows everything.
You can search for mystical content, encyclopedia information, acrobatic pirouettes or girls who play the guitar with their nails painted blue, it doesn't matter: the paths your eyes will have to follow to find what they are looking for, at best, are the paths of entertainment. In fact, the opening of the Olympic games was proof of this. Paris became a formidable left-wing Disneyland, amid rain and tears. Is it tacky? Maybe, but that's what we have for today.
To Rebeca Andrade, Simone Biles and Jordan Chiles I also bow, humble and out of shape. I surrender to Gabriel Medina, pedestrian and parched. I give a standing ovation to the cinematography people, insignificant and foolish. In them, at least, I see the little bit of truth that escapes the pasty circus, uselessly.
* Eugene Bucci He is a professor at the School of Communications and Arts at USP. Author, among other books, of Uncertainty, an essay: how we think about the idea that disorients us (and orients the digital world) (authentic). [https://amzn.to/3SytDKl]
Originally published in the newspaper The State of S. Paul.
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