Everyone likes to believe that they are talented. Why else would they invest so heavily in competitions whose sole goal is to find ways to celebrate the effort of the everyman? We all like to believe that with some effort, we too can become our own self-starter celebrity in such a way that we leave our mark on culture.
That is what makes the latest Netflix offering endearing, at least in terms of concept. What Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga (2020) lacks in a decent name it more than makes up for with this strange earnest energy, eager to turn a European pastime into comedy gold the same way that Will Ferrell did with sports. But where Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (2006), Blades of Glory (2007), and Semi-Pro (2008) succeeded in great performances that grounded an absurd premise, everything about this is about being over the top. Even Ferrell and co-star Rachel McAdams’ accents feel like they’re made for the highest level of laughs and it’s probably the only endearing thing about this film.
To give a quick rundown, the real-life Eurovision Song Contest was created as a way for Europe to create this sense of unity among its many nations, reflecting the diversity and culture that these countries produce. I for one have no familiarity with them, though I guess that I’ve heard Abba’s “Waterloo” (one of its winners) a bunch of times. It’s a contest not unlike American Idol or The Voice in that singers are eliminated on a voter-based system that ultimately determines which song is the best. Given how eccentric Europop can be, it’s ripe for mockery.
Meet Lars Ericksson (Ferrell) and Sigrit Ericksdottir (McAdams), who met as children dancing to Abba as they performed on Eurovision. They bought into the enthusiasm given by the crowd, though Lars’ father Erick (Pierce Brosnan) was largely disapproving. He didn’t believe that they would personally bring Iceland any reason to celebrate. After all, they would grow up to be Fire Saga, a band who only ever performed at a local pub and was praised for the nonsensical pop song “Ya Ya Ding Dong.” It’s catchy in that faux-polka way, but it’s reflective of a band unable to see any longevity
Had the story focused around the titular Eurovision, there is a good chance that this movie may have been a latter-day hit for Ferrell. After years of hits and misses, this was a premise that felt like a classic in the making. The issue is that the first hour is an insufferable mess, relying on scenes that play out for too long to establish plot points that frankly don’t add much to the overall charm of the story. Who cares that Lars and Sigrit want to fluff their genitals to make them look bigger? Who cares about needless love affairs that only remind us that Dan Stevens is sexy and charismatic, but given so little do here?
It’s a shame because the second half is a lot stronger once things get going for Eurovision when the film allows itself to embrace the shameless pageantry of the event. With that said, the first act is a painful example of Lars and Sigrit failing upwards, where Iceland’s various entries into the contest begin to get killed off. Lars is even visited by their ghosts, who are still charred from a boat explosion. It’s all silly, but the film is too bogged down in unfunny subplots that could build character if other scenes didn’t do it better.
One can’t help but admire the commitment of Ferrell and McAdams amid this. While their Icelandic accents wander more than the icebergs in the harbor, they have this endearing charm to them. It’s a bright-eyed optimism that makes you recognize how they fit as these oddball underdogs. They are so odd that Sigrit even provides gifts to invisible elves before they leave: a fact made funnier since Erick is confused why half of the country still believes in this weird folklore.
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| Past Eurovision winners... I think |
It’s the old and the new colliding, and the film only becomes interesting once it allows for Eurovision to be Eurovision. As a place for European culture to celebrate each other, it does so little of it that feels genuine and earned, mostly done through these mocking numbers that feel like rejected tracks from Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping (2016). Sure it’s funny that they have such extravagance and over-produced numbers, but what other joke is there really? Frankly, the stripped-down catchiness of “Ya Ya Ding Dong” lingers more than Fire Saga’s big hit, the one that gets them on the show in the first place. Of course, that’s kind of the point, but it takes way too long to get there.
One of the recurring gags here is the fact that Fire Saga can’t perform the new song without some sort of stage malfunction. Either Lars is offstage trying to get through ridiculous obstacles, or there’s a wardrobe malfunction that causes Sigrit to be caught in the gears of a gerbil wheel. There’s no point where Fire Saga actually plays the song perfectly, at least until they strip it down and play from the heart. In a film in love with the artificial world-building of these countries, it makes sense that this would be the selling point.
Even then, it’s clear that director David Dobkin loves the oddity of these characters. In a scene that plays as pointless if you’re just hearing about Eurovision when you press ‘play,’ everyone breaks out into songs. They are at Alexander Lemtov’s (Stevens) mansion and all of these noteworthy Eurovision winners get precious screen time to sing this over-produced cover of Cher’s “Believe.” It wanders around in the luxury, and it’s hard to really know what the joke is if there is in fact one. All there is is a bunch of people in a mansion singing, and it makes it all seem like this pointless, over-produced tripe. If it’s a love letter, it does little to incorporate past Eurovision winners in such a way that audiences appreciate their cameos.
I understand that this is how Eurovision likely plays, as Europop is more eccentric and strange than the American counterpart. However, it’s endearing to see a more modest production to be found in Teen Spirit (2018). Like Eurovision, it’s the story of an underdog following her dreams in an international music competition. This time it takes place in a small village called The Isle of Wight in England and is done mostly off of the backs of covers. It’s gritty, serving more as a conventional drama by comparison.
Meet Violet Valenski (Elle Fanning), who is a talented young performer who wants to prove herself. So she enters a competition that finds her becoming a town sensation. Unlike Eurovision, the majority of the songs are also sung by Fanning, covering songs that include Robyn’s “Dancing on My Own” and Elle Fanning’s “Lights.”
Teen Spirit gets to the point a lot quicker, understanding that what the audience wants to experience is the study of competition that the commercials sold it on. While we’re constantly getting character growth from Violet, it’s presented in-between moments of her taking to a stage, the bright lights overwhelming her in such a way that we understand how small she is. This is an international competition, and we understand that she is doing everything in her power to stand out. Director Max Minghella’s work is also more critical, never allowing the lens to be too sympathetic, even as Violet becomes more accustomed to the glitz and glamor. It’s still about the insecurity of her talent, even if we already believe in her.
That is the issue with Eurovision. It is so obsessed with the wackiness that the competition becomes secondary. There is a point in the second act where Lars, believing that he’s embarrassed his whole country, returns home to live a normal life. It could’ve been a wonderful tangent, as the moment has plenty of humor between Ferrell and Brosnan on a fishing boat, but instead makes you realize how much time has been spent diverting away from anything of bigger substance. We’re over halfway into this film, and it has felt like we have only spent 10 minutes actually embracing the Eurovision culture.
It’s tedious, especially given that these characters never really have a depth that warrants these dramatic turns. Sure, there’s something to be had with Sigrit’s affair with Alexander, but when it’s only the latest wacky gag, it becomes difficult to really like. This is a movie that wants to be a bunch of sketches, of Americans playing on Icelandic niceness. The Eurovision hardly feels like it matters, and it makes the elaborate production feel all the more pointless. Lars may start the film feeling like he’s getting something out of this competition, but he ends it more out of obligation than any true character motivations.
I understand that Eurovision is more of a bold comedy meant to entertain on absurdity. In that respect, it delivers. However, it’s also over two hours. As a film where the joke is that people perform songs in eccentric outfits, it’s something that should be whittled down. If we’re being modest, cut it to 100 minutes, though frankly, I believe it deserves to be even shorter. Comedy is about pacing, and this film suffers from not having any focus. There’s no real character growth, meaning the comedy bits feel tired once you understand that Fire Saga’s whole shtick is bombing horribly each time out. Sure, you love the audacity of the sequence, but it lacks any insight worth holding onto.
There isn’t much to Teen Spirit by comparison. It’s a modest film that’s about the insular struggle of someone who is more critical of fame. Still, you’re sold by Violet’s struggle because the bawdiest of scenes are informing something about character, where Fanning manages to not only sing but mix in this nervousness with growing confidence, doing everything not to be just another cog in the machine. We get the people cheering her on at home, and it’s the feel-good drama that does the trick. It’s doing more than karaoke with its song choices. It’s conveying something that Eurovision never does until the very end.
Though if there’s anything else that’s disappointing about Eurovision, it’s the lack of interesting supporting characters. While Brosnan and Stevens are able to deliver a fun vibe, what character growth can you remember? Sure, Erick becomes more accepting of his son, but he doesn’t go on any personal journey despite having significant screen time. Similarly, the whole joke with Alexander is that he might be gay… and isn’t! There’s no comeuppance. It’s a predictable story where Fire Saga win not because of any personal growth, but because the film would cease to obey its irregular interior logic.
That is the issue. For a film that could easily lampoon either Icelandic culture or Eurovision’s absurdity, it never commits to either one. Teen Spirit thankfully is small and because of that is allowed to fluctuate from showmanship and interior struggles clearly. We’re not concerned with whether supporting characters have rich interior lives. They’re just there to make Violet’s story richer. And, if we’re being honest, having Carly Rae Jepsen write you an original song with “Wildflowers” is way more impressive.
Both of these films take place in Europe and reflect underdogs trying to win singing competitions, and yet only one treats it with any seriousness. Who knew that it was the more critical one, reflecting on how celebrity and image manipulation can be these cynical tools? While I want to like Eurovision, it fails to respect its premise even when it has the audacity to go in strange and hilarious directions. It’s weird for the sake of weird, and nothing about it has any substance. It’s like Fire Saga’s “Ya Ya Ding Dong.” No matter how much this movie wants you to take it seriously, it’ll always be this chintzy song that nobody sober will ever appreciate. Ferrell used to be able to make these movies into masterpieces. At best this is his best missed opportunity in years.
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