Olympics opening ceremony in Milan was lacking snow, but tiny winter wonderland was on its sidelines

MILAN — The Winter Olympics opening ceremony in Milan on Friday offered a bonanza of highlights: the lighting of a Leonardo da Vinci-inspired cauldron, athletes in eye-popping attire from top designers, Mariah Carey belting out high notes in Italian and much more.

One key thing it didn't provide: snow.

That much-desired winter wonderland could be found in a far smaller venue elsewhere in the city, even with temperatures outside close to 50 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius).

A special edition of ''Slava's Snowshow'' is on the slate of cultural activities Olympics organizers are promoting on the sidelines. Created by Slava Polunin, a renowned Russian clown and artist, the production has filled theaters with storms of paper snow in more than 60 countries since 1993.

''Snow is a very powerful image,'' Polunin told The Associated Press in an email. ''It can be immensely beautiful and incredibly dangerous.''

In Milan, he's presenting at the Teatro Strehler till Feb. 22, the last day of the Olympics. On Friday, it had a packed house, with spectators choosing the subdued enchantment of snowfall over the grandiose spectacle in the opening ceremony that was broadcast far and wide.

''We saw the show about 15 years ago, and now that we have children, we wanted to experience it again with them,'' said Paola Volpe. ''We were especially eager to return because we heard this was a special version linked to the Olympics.''

For Polunin, 75, the Olympics offered an opportunity to update a production rooted in memory and play.

''It is an honor to present the show at a moment when the attention of people around the world is focused on the place where you are performing,'' he said. ''As for the adaptation, the show is largely built on improvisation.''

The show's actors absorb the atmosphere of the Games, embracing surprises and creating new situations ahead of each performance.

During Friday's performance, Polunin briefly mimed a phone call, jokingly referring to the ongoing Games. At another moment, the ''Chariots of Fire'' theme song — nowadays, synonymous with hammy, slow-mo athletic competition — rang out as he and his fellow clowns staged a playful scene.

Half a dozen clowns in bright green costumes shared the stage with Polunin, dressed in yellow. Actors climbed into the seats, swapped spectators' belongings and opened umbrellas, lightly spraying water around.

''The show is a dream,'' said Raquele Maggi, who has seen the show about six times with her daughters in previous years. ''It's a little like magic.''

Where snow becomes memory

Polunin, 75, was born in Siberia, a place that shaped the emotional landscape of the work.

He remembers the joy of building white cities, roads and snowmen as a child. At the same time, he feared his parents leaving home, both on foot and by car, during snowfalls or snowstorms.

''I always try to look at things from different points of view, to see both the comic and the tragic side,'' Polunin said. ''For me, snow is full of beauty and anxiety.''

Audiences often say his show feels like a journey toward their childhoods. For Polunin, it is also a process of self-discovery, one that continues to evolve, accomplished without a single spoken line of dialogue.

''Since our show is not tied to a language, it is understood by everyone,'' he said, echoing the universality often associated with the Olympic spirit.

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