stagehand

Just to start off with a concrete example, there was a disembodied stagehand’s hand backstage that reached up and helped the center stage doors close almost every time a competitor entered the stage via them, and it was right in the top center of the screen. All eyes on some hugely muscled bodybuilder, except mine which are watching out for the sneaky hand to appear and do its little job: ensure that the door closes all the way. Booop. It’s pretty important, getting that door closed. Maybe wear a blacker than black glove? The whole back backdrop, including the door, is a giant screen, curved and completely seamless, floor to ceiling, and constantly parading sponsors across. First time I’ve seen something like it, so there is that. “My Cookie Dealer”, “MRDR”, “ProTan since 1987”, “Beast Nutrition”, “Nutriyummy”, “Bombshell Sportswear”, “PSY CHO”, “Gym Reapers”, and various medical complexes, sports equipment, and nutrition brands are constantly parading across behind the inhumanly massive guys. And gals.

There were other production challenges as well, and this matches the level of expectation set by last year’s show. It seems to be their standard, a little goofy, not particularly polished and mismatched to the scale of the thing. The announcers rarely added any materially relevant information about the competitor on stage. “Look at his arms” said one, “and his chest” added the other. Thanks, so helpful. These two are professional spectators seem to be just as bewildered by the bizarre world they have found themselves in as we are. But these guys are honor-bound to maintain composure and make words come out of their faces, so that’s what they do. They’ve done no research on the field, this guy or gal in particular, or anything else. Their material is right in front of them, so they say something about it. “He is working the crowd, alright.”

It’s ok, we can’t hear them very well anyway. Maybe it’s their sound booth, or the fact that there isn’t one. Or there really is an ambiance mic somewhere and the mix is the set to “put them all about the same”. We can’t hear the stage mic either. It was the same last year. The livestream mix is all off and we don’t care because we’re not here to actually hear what any of them say. We’re here on a mini, televised, safari into a weird corner of the human world, where people dedicate years of their lives to eating exactly right, working out perfectly perfected sets, taking exactly the right drugs, and always always getting the right amount of sleep so they can accumulate massively huge muscles into their bodies and become the biggest walking anatomy model possible. It is a weird weird world, and this is the pinnacle of it. I just inhabit some tiny far away corner, eating my protein and creatine and fumbling my way toward just one set that might be mistaken, by me, for something like perfection. We only understand a little of it, no thanks to the announcers, and Jeff is the closest approximation to a guide we have. We’re wandering through, pointing at stuff and asking questions, making fun and trying to understand what is happening and noticing things about our own bodies and our own understanding and interpretations of what we’re seeing and noticing. The weird production values, the hand is still there helping that door to close, is just one part of the scene. I have to get back to wondering just what the actual fuck is going on here. And trying for a perfect set.

If you want to see some of the spectacle, here are some links from the Saturday night main event:

• Mr. Olympia Finals, 2026
• Olympia Bikini, 2026
• Women’s Physique, 2026

jg

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