Paris Olympics fencing venue, Le Grand Palais, takes the breath away with its spectacular backdrop

By Simon Smale, ABC

One of the greatest selling points of this Paris 2024 Olympic Games is, undoubtably, the location.

Paris is one of the great cities of the world, filled with landmarks recognised by millions.

The integration of these world renowned features to the temporary venues that make up such a large contribution to the infrastructure of this Games has been one of the most impressive feats of the organising committee.

The use of temporary structures is no accident. The IOC recommends the use of temporary structures as part of its sustainability strategy.

Paris 2024 will reportedly half its CO2 emissions on account of having 95 per cent temporary or previously existing venues.

Not everywhere does that result in eye-catching views for spectators though.

The three South Paris Arenas, where handball, volleyball, weightlifting and table tennis take place are little more than a utilitarian collection of exhibition halls, thoroughly unremarkable but practical.

The same can't be said of Le Grand Palais.

Built for the Universal Exhibition in 1900 - the same event that disastrously and almost terminally ran alongside the Games of the second Olympiad - the Grand Palais is one of the jewels in Paris's carat-heavy crown.

And it makes full use of its eminence to stun anyone who walks through its doors during these Games.

You cannot step out into the arena, situated in the cavernous, 240 metre-long Nave, without having your breath taken away by what presents itself to you.

White-clad and masked fencers conduct an intricately bewitching dance on the four pistes in the centre of the great hall.

But it is the astonishing glass roof, towering over them, that draws the eye most.

The imposing iron girders appear matchstick-like such is the scale of the 45-metre tall, voluminous structure, emphasised by vast sheets of white drapery hanging between them, masking the sun that threatens to blaze through the glass.

Such a grand venue demands a large audience - and it has one.

Stands rise up backwards towards the roof, space enough for 6100 spectators.

Fencing may be one of only two sports that does not have Australian representation at these Games, but it is a big deal in France.

It is one of five ever-present events at the modern Summer Games and has drawn a big crowd for the home favourites in particular.

French fencer Cécilia Berder said "to live that once in a lifetime, that's exceptional. I am very lucky to be able to feel that atmosphere," during the women's individual épée event.

Auriane Mallo-Breton, who was awarded silver in that competition, described the feeling of fencing at such a venue as "incredible."

Historically, France has won more medals in fencing than any other, 123 coming into these Games, second only to Italy overall - and had four more after just three days of competition this year.

The four most successful French Olympians all competed in fencing: Cristian d'Oriola (four golds and two silvers, 1948-1956), Lucien Gaudin (four golds and two silvers, 1920-1928), Philippe Cattiou (three golds, four silvers and a bronze, 1920-1936) and Roger Ducret (three golds, four silvers and a bronze, 1920-1928).

President of the IOC, Thomas Bach also has a keen interest in the sport - he won a gold medal for West Germany in the team foil event at Montreal 1976.

It was perhaps that interest that saw him intervene in the case of Ukranian fencer Olga Kharlan, who was disqualified at the 2023 World Championships for not shaking the hand of her Russian opponent, despite instead offering the accepted alternative of crossing blades.

That disqualification cost her a spot at the Games.

Bach said, "as a fellow fencer, it is impossible to imagine how you must feel at this moment," and guaranteed her spot at the Games.

"Rest assured that the IOC will continue to stand in full solidarity with the Ukranian athletes and the Olympic community of Ukraine," he said.

On Monday, she was awarded bronze in the individual sabre competition.

"Of course it's been a really difficult moment to compete the past two and a half years when in my country there's war," she said.

"All of us we have our own story, but I hope this medal will bring to my country some joy, some hope.

"The French people here were cheering for me and were supporting me. And it gives a lot of hope and a lot of joy and support. Really, it was amazing."

During competition, the action happening far below those masses of fans is so fast that you have to concentrate.

Even then, it's hard to observe with any certainty the intricacies of what's happening.

The pairs of athletes edge backwards and forwards, flicking their épée's like stiff steel whips in the direction of their masked opponents, who duck and weave and back up in an attempt to craft an opening of their own.

The squeaking of shoes cuts through the satisfied background murmuring of the crowd, along with the scraping, clinking and ringing of steel on steel.

The strikes are like lightening, a lunge and pin-point thrust to the chest with the bulbous tip before the small scoreboard flashes to indicate that the sensor found its mark.

So fast are the flashes of those blades that replays are slowed to 30 per cent pace before being shown on the big screen.

Even then, more often than not, the impact still seems unclear but for the raised arm of the successful striker and the disappointed shrug of they who have been struck.

Let not the murmur of the crowd suggest they are not engaged.

Each point scored earns applause and cheering from on high, yet only in small smatterings.

Everyone else seems overwhelmed, in awe of their Instagrammable surrounds, reverently soaking in its grandeur.

-ABC