For those of you who thought it all began on Friday night, you're very, very wrong. The over-the-top drama of Eurovision actually began back in the middle of March when the organisers of this year's event claimed that Georgia's entry, "We Don't Want to Put In", was anti-Russian and aimed at Russian president Putin. Since political entries aren't allowed in Eurovision, they told Georgia that they could change the lyrics in question or use a different song altogether.
Instead of removing the apparent references to Putin, the people in charge of Georgia's entry (Georgina TV or something) decided to chuck a hissy fit and announced that Georgia wouldn't be competing at all. And to make matters even more childish, they announced towards the end of April that they would be holding their own Eurovision style competition with 15 countries competing.
Counting Down to Eurovision: Previews, Lies, and a Pink Limo
In the days leading up to the main event, there was this nice little three part special called Eurovision Countdown. It previewed the city of Moscow, the arena, and the acts competing. The two hosts of the show drove everywhere in a bright pink stretched limousine. It was every bit as painful on the eyes as it sounds.
To preview each song entering the competition this year, we got a taste of the film clips that go with them. And you thought the songs were bizarre. I'm pretty sure there was also a claim in the second episode that explained how the jury system worked. Never happened. But by far the most puzzling thing about these shows is that they were clearly narrated by Mr Amercian-Accent. Well, except for the last episode, which was in part narrated by Mrs Sort-of-Irish-Sounding-but-Still-Mostly-American-Accent.
Each of the three episodes featured a segment by Dr Eurovision (for those of you who've seen Good Game, think something along the lines of those Wagglemax ads - he even sounds like that guy). He explained what happens in case of a tie for first place, and how to be the spokeperson for your country and read out all the points awarded for each country (or how not to). In his third and final segment, he explained that gimmicks are a Eurovision staple, with a nice tip of the hat to DANCING.
Semi Final 1: Send in the
For the first time since SBS's failed attempt to send their own representative to Eurovision, they decided to have another crack at it now that Wogan's retired. While the British broadcast (and thus Seb) got Graham Norton, we got Julia Zemiro and comedian Sam Pang (who, in the final, wore shirts saying "Terry Wogan's not doing it this year" and "Yes, we miss him too"). Even they acknowledged that no one can replace Wogan, they still did a remarkably good job.
Semi Final One opened with a story about some kids trying to figure out how to fly. After asking various plants and magic animals, including a freaking magic horse, they figure out that the secret of flight is through song. They risked burning the audience with pyrotechnics to tell us that? Ah well. After being told we could SMS our vote and then trying to figure out how the hell you were expected to text "Bosnia and Herzegovania" in time to lodge a vote for them, we got straight into the action.
Montenegro were first up, featuring someone who looked a bit like Suzie Costello dancing around some guy and an office chair. The song was called something like "Just Get Out of my Head". The lyrics, however, make no sense. The basic idea of the song was ""I love you heaps, so because of that, get out of my life." Eh?
Next up was the Czech Republic entry, whose name is that of a website, and whose act was gypsy rap sung by the disturbing contents of a child's toy box. Belgium entered Elvis, singing into a prop mike (the keen eyed viewer will have spotted the face-mike he was wearing), followed by the most bizarre title card I have ever seen on television: "Round Loaf of Bread".
Then came Belarus. Hair metal fronted by a blonde guy in a white suit. See if you can work that one out. Sweden was let down by the mix of the song, which drowned out the main singer, but she got through to the final anyway, so I'll discuss her act later. Armenia did as well, but I'll mention them now because their act featured yet more clones.
Then we cut to an ad break. I wouldn't normally mention this if it weren't for the fact that one of the ads was about tank collecting. Seriously. It was one of those "Buy this magazine and get some free models and stuff in each one." But for TANKS.
After learning that you can smoke "safely" underneath the stands, we were treated to a girl band from Andora, which was more like a cross between Abba and the Spice Girls than anything else. A clone of the woman who sang for Montenegro sang a duet for Israel, and the obligatory political peace song made it through to the final.
Our first look at the the greenroom proved it was not a greenroom. The greenroom is never green. In this case, it was a bar. Which would explain a lot, actually, because the hosts appeared to get drunker each time we saw them. Bulgaria sang a song called "Illusion". You'd hope there was magic or explosions or something. Prepare to be disappointed, because the only illusions I could see were some guys on stilts and some medieval imagery.
F.Y.R Macedonia only proved what we've alway known: part of Eurovision is stuck in the 80's. At least there was a ghost ship and a ghost dolphin in the background. Elana from Romania was next. I won't say much more about Elana from Romania's act, other than to say Elana from Romania made it through to the final. (I just like saying "Elana from Romania".)
After a few more forgettable and/or winning acts, we finally made it through all 18 songs. And then by pushing a magic button, the hosts made us relive "all the songs we've already seen" again. And then after failing to pad out the remaining 6 minutes, they decided we should watch them all again. Oh, but that only padded out the voting part. Now we had to pad out the vote tallying time. And they did that with an act that had everything Russian except those doll-in-a-dolls. We had an army choir, gypsies, drumming, crazy military drumming, t.A.T.u (the fake lesbians), and a bright pink tank with flowers painted on it.
Wait, what?
Semi Final 2: A Change of Pace With The Slow Death of Comedy
The second evening of the proceedings began with a musical number. And it's not just Eurovision without a bunch of covers of past Eurovision winning songs, is it? We finally got those Russian doll-in-a-dolls on the stage, 24 hours too late to feature where they should have featured. After starting off normally, we suddenly entered the realm of the bizarre, with break-dancing to Abba's Waterloo, followed by six people in bear suits dancing to what I think was last year's winning song. That's right, dancing bears. Thankfully our hosts for the evening had sobered up after last night, because they were sensible enough to try and crack a joke about being thankful the bears weren't real.
The theme of the night was slow yet operatic songs sung in front of a wind machine, preferably (although not always) wearing dark colours like black or blue. Poland, Cyprus, and Slovakia are all guilty of this. Their sentence was not making it through to the final, even though they all tried to spice it up in some way. Poland tried to incorporate ballet and gymnastics with those ribbons, Cyrpus sang about fireflies on glowing white boxes, and Slovakia littered the stage with unnecessary pianos.
Ireland had sobered up after the horrific singing puppet turkey from last year. Unlike last year, the audience liked what they were seeing this year, and what they were seeing was a punk rock band singing a song called "Et Cetera". Unfortunately, like the turkey, it didn't get them through to the final. Probably because the crew had forgotten to turn the wind machine off from all the slow songs and not set off any pyrotechnics.
Latvia sang a song about "Probka", or "traffic jams" for you people who want a translation, yet couldn't explain what specific type of traffic jam he meant when Sam Pang asked him about it backstage. He rambled on about traffic jams of the mind and heart and car. But what just do you rhyme "Probka with"? "Vodka," apparently.
While it's debatably whether the Latvian entry was a "comedic" entry or not, Serbia's entry clearly was. But it only showed that the comedy act suffered badly from the attack by the mental-scar-inducing Irish turkey puppet, and was represented in a diluted, dying form by a guy who looked a bit like Penn from Penn & Teller wearing a yellow jacket and with absurd hair (so absurd that it was hard to tell if it was a wig or not). Sure, it had the obligatory accordian that all Eurovision comedy acts must have, but it didn't have much else.
After our hosts had become drunk again, and the hostess had refashioned her hair to become one of the aliens in disguise from Mars Attacks, we were treated to a 3 and a half minute song introduction from Slovenia, who opened in silhouette form. After a tediously long section in which no lyrics were sung, and in which the instrumentalists came out from silhouette form, the singer decided to stay there until about halfway through the singing bit. And then the song just stopped, only to be followed by a lesson in bad fashion sense by Hungary.
After a few more acts that made it to the final, we were once again treated to the "Start your tank collection today" ad. The stream of acts ended with the Netherlands, who's song was called Shine. Sequinned suits, glowing palms, and back-up singing divas in white. What else did you expect?
After once again failing to pad out the voting time in an entertaining way (yes, all 19 songs were recapped twice this time too), the hosts also failed to once again pad out the vote tallying time. This time we were treated to folk dancing from different countries. No such segment is complete without some good old Zorba, and I have to admit, the Russian folk dancing was rather impressive.
Now, because I didn't cover it in the first semi-final, I'll do so now. Here's how the songs that were going through to the final were revealed: The hosts pushed their magic button again. And again. And again. Once to reveal each song, in fact. Given how they managed to stretch this part of the proceedings out, it's baffling to think that they struggled to pad out the voting and tallying. It was probably the alcohol.
The Final: "Did You Ever Go To A Place... I Think It Was Called Norway?"
Well, odds are you would be next year. They were the favourite to win the final, with betting odds of $1.50. That's a pretty sure bet. But what was their act like, and what was their competition like? This year, in order to stamp out "political voting" the organisers of the competition decided to make the scoring system even more complicated by re-instated the jury, who gets a say on where points go. Beyond that, I've got no idea how it works.
Before we got to figure out whether Norway would win, we were treated to a (shock horror) sensible opening act featuring Cirque du Soleil. After honouring the Eurovision tradition of featuring last year's winning song performed by a guy on wires doing acrobatics, we were introduced to the new, sensible, sober hosts. Sam Pang summed it up best when he said "It's sad when they get hosts who know what they're doing, isn't it?"
Mercifully, we didn't have to put up with them for too long, and we finally got the opportunity to figure out whether betting on Norway is a good idea. Lithuania performed magic, since the piano he was playing kept making sounds after he got up, and then he set him palm on fire. (Sort of.) France gave as a cabaret singing corpse, and Spain gave us what she would have looked like if she was alive, with a bonus magic trick that was incredibly easy to figure out.
There's always a rule that Sweden enters Abba into the Eurovision Song Contest. This year, instead of enetering Abba, they entered one of the members of Abba singing Popera (that's pop fused with opera). Croatia proved that you can't do Eurovision without an act that involves slow, overacting movements and a wind machine.
Germany gave as someone with an American accent singing about something other than happiness and joy for once: a big band swing number, silver pants, and Dita Von Teese. The real Dita. Not a Eurovision clone. Portugal gave us something along the lines of what Germany usually enters.
The other real-life cameo of the night went to England, who were desperate not to come last again. So they gave us a Whitney Housten look-a-like accompanied by the real-life Andrew Lloyd Weber. Denmark gave us a Ronan Keating look-a-like singing a normal country song.... until the pyrotechnics.
The closest thing to an Australian entry at Eurovision was Greece, because two of the song writers were Australian. And they know the golden rule for a Eurovision song: It must feature a key change. I only hope that it wasn't choreographed by Australians, because that would be something to be ashamed of. It was like Ricky Martin doing disco.
Russia gave me false hope. She looked damn fine in the interview on Eurovision Countdown, but on the night the song fell flat, and she looked like Catherine Zeta Jones had just woken up, thrown a towel around herself, and was about to have a shower. Turkey got through to the final on sex-appeal, by doing what they always do: belly dancing.
Estonia was fronted by an Emily Browning look-a-like who also played violin. "Part voice, part fringe" as Sam put it. In keeping with the movie-star-look-a-likes-who-can-play-also-play-violin theme, Norway gave as a Zac Effron look-a-like singing an upbeat folk song that would be more appropriate for Ireland. You're singing for the wrong country Zac!
Ukraine and Albania went for a different theme: bizarre costumes that have nothing to do with your song. Ukraine sang a dance floor number about Valentine's (which for some reason later morphed into "anti-crisis girl"), but if you can explain to me what giant cogs and dancing Roman centurions have to do with that, you're doing better than the rest of us. But Albania takes the cake by giving us a peek at what Nikki Webster's career could have been like: singing in a pink tutu with two vampire mimes and a human disco ball thing whose meaning is never explained.
As usual, if you're like me, you don't bother sticking around for the voting, and once proceedings are over you look up who won on the official website. Or, as was the case this year, stumble across the result while searching Wikipedia trying to figure out how to spell "Zemiro". And the winner? Lets' just say that Norway's gamble to please the High School Musical crowd paid off, giving them the win with a "record breaking" score of 387. Iceland came second with 218.
So to everyone who bet on Norway: Congratulations, you've hardly made any money at all.
