For many, the Olympics are a thrilling television spectacle, capable of disrupting sleep for weeks, especially if you’re deeply invested in sports like figure skating. Yet, since 1912, long before television brought the Games into our homes, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) has been creating a different kind of Olympic experience: official documentaries. These shorter films capture the defining moments and celebrate the incredible feats of athletes from nearly every edition of the Games.
These cinematic treasures serve as invaluable historical archives, particularly from eras predating widespread television coverage. It’s fascinating to journey back through time with these older films, observing the remarkable evolution of various sports. To mark the upcoming Milan Cortina Winter Games, you can now enjoy all these documentaries on the official, free Olympics platform, or through the Criterion Channel.
Naturally, the historical record isn’t without its gaps. For example, the IOC notably chose not to commission an official film for the 1936 Summer Games in Berlin. Instead, the Nazi regime tasked Leni Riefenstahl with the project, resulting in “Olympia.” While technically groundbreaking, the film remains controversial for its blatant and unsettling propaganda, used to promote the Third Reich’s racist ideologies.
However, for the vast majority of Games, an official film exists. As you watch, two striking aspects often emerge. Firstly, many of these documentaries possess a stunning cinematic quality, far surpassing typical television sports coverage. Secondly, they consistently champion the IOC’s uplifting narrative: that the Olympics are a powerful emblem of unity and international peace through sport. We can see these qualities shine in two particular documentaries, both highlighting past Winter Olympics hosted in Italy.
One standout is “White Vertigo,” Giorgio Ferroni’s masterpiece from the 1956 Winter Games, also held in Cortina — one of the host cities for this year’s event. Perhaps to stand out against the rising popularity of television, this film is exceptionally beautiful, resembling a lavish Technicolor production. Its opening scenes gracefully explore the mountain landscapes, accompanied by a narrator praising nature’s splendor and the charm of the village, before the athletes finally make their appearance.
Once the sporting events begin, the soundtrack shifts between sweeping orchestral pieces, lively jazz, and even avant-garde compositions. It’s a delightful film to watch, even beyond its athletic focus. This cinematic brilliance can likely be attributed to its talented creative team: cinematographer Aldo Scavarda later filmed Michelangelo Antonioni’s acclaimed ‘L’Avventura,’ and composer Angelo Francesco Lavagnino contributed scores to numerous films, including Orson Welles’s ‘Othello’ and ‘Chimes at Midnight.’
In stark contrast to “White Vertigo” is “Bud Greenspan’s Torino 2006: Stories of Olympic Glory.” Released shortly before Greenspan’s passing in 2010 (though he co-directed a later film on the Vancouver Games), this documentary is a good watch but primarily notable as a showcase of his distinctive style. Greenspan dedicated much of his career to Olympic filmmaking, crafting 10 official documentaries, the celebrated ‘The Olympiad’ series, and shorts like ‘Jesse Owens Returns to Berlin’ (1966).
Greenspan’s signature approach, evident in the Torino film and his other works, is now widely recognized, particularly in how the Olympics are covered today. He gravitated towards emotional, human-interest narratives, drawing viewers close to the athletes to convey their intensity and dedication. He masterfully used portraits and interviews to deepen audience engagement and was a pioneer in using crowd reactions to narrate the unfolding drama of the events.
A defining characteristic of Greenspan’s work, which he openly acknowledged, was his deliberate focus on positivity, often omitting scandals or negative incidents. For instance, his documentary on the 1994 Lillehammer Winter Games makes no mention of the infamous attack on figure skater Nancy Kerrigan, orchestrated by associates of her rival, Tonya Harding. ‘I’ve been criticized for having rose-colored glasses,’ he famously told The New York Times in 1996. ‘I say if that’s true, what’s so bad?’
This unwavering idealism made him a perfect collaborator for the IOC, explaining why they consistently sought his vision. This theme resonates through all these documentaries: sports unite us, as the IOC often declares, and the athletes embody the very best of human endeavor. While at times, particularly during periods of global unrest, this message might seem somewhat contrived, it’s difficult not to be swept up in that inspiring spirit when you witness a masterful figure skater or skier achieving the seemingly impossible in one of these films.