''These in-line skaters are known as the 'sparks of passion' and they'll appear throughout the ceremony," Bob Costas explained at one point. Uh-huh.
That same super-serious tone was all over NBC last night, informing the overwritten voice-over that opened the broadcast with a backdrop of choral music. The omniscient voice had this, for instance, to say of skier Bode Miller: ''This impetuous New Hampshire rebel defines his state's very motto: Live free or dieeee."
And soon after that, NBC's Jim Lampley, in his gray striped suit and businesslike demeanor, refused to crack a smile when he referred to snowboarder Shaun White as ''the California teen called the Flying Tomato."
The Olympics are ordained to be completely self-important -- no smirking allowed! -- which perhaps is why the opening festivities always seem so campy. Still, as a general spectacle, last night's show wasn't bad. There was a decent amount of fire and some nice improvements on high school bands: At one point, a group of people wearing camping goggles moved in tandem, slowly, in the shape of a skier. The rappelling down the Olympic rings was a nice touch. And because this was Italy, we got to see dresses designed by Giorgio Armani.
Then they had to go and re-enact Botticelli's ''The Birth of Venus." The spell was broken. And that was before the red Ferrari spun out in the middle of the stadium.
The NBC anchors, Costas and Brian Williams, spent much of the time being admirably quiet, perhaps because they realized there wasn't much to say. Even so, they could have managed less, as when Costas pointed out, ''And now the performers come together to form a beating heart, the obvious universal symbol of passion."
No, there was much we could interpret for ourselves. We saw, for instance, the extent of America's cultural dominance: the athletes marched in to strains of '70s disco and Motown. (Was it coincidence that the Americans, in unfashionable berets, made their entrance to Aretha Franklin's ''Respect"?)
We were reminded that the parade of nations is one of the world's sweetest, if boringest, rituals -- half of the athletes seemed to be clutching their video cameras, giddily capturing the moment.
And we saw, in a few blessed places, signs of restraint. After weeks of watching ''American Idol" auditions on the home front, it was gratifying to see that, musicwise, the Italians were capable of perfect taste. Their national anthem was sung in clear tones -- with no cheesy embellishment whatsoever -- by a serious 9-year-old girl.
Joanna Weiss can be reached at weiss@globe.com
