The theme of this year’s Eurovision Song Contest, ‘United by Music’, heralded both the all-encompassing intentions of the annual musical extravaganza and the status of a collective endeavour. With the 2022 Ukraine winners unable to host in Kiev due to the war, the UK – last year’s runner-up, thanks to Sam Ryder’s soaring “Space Man” – stepped in to reinstall this increasingly spectacular circus (together with several Ukrainian creative collaborators) in the Beatles’ hometown of Liverpool. A statement that this would be the glitziest collaboration was served up via a prologue in which Ukraine’s Kalush Orchestra, who reworked last year’s winning entry “Stefania,” was paired with the Princess of Wales, apparently providing piano accompaniment from Windsor Castle. Soft power-a-go-go.
There was no speech from President Zelensky – overly politically determined by the Eurovision Song Contest mandarins, a decision that felt questionable even before Ukraine’s entry in 2023, Tvorchi’s “Heart of Steel” pleaded “don’t be afraid to say exactly what you thinks.” Still, the conflict in Ukraine seemed to haunt the backdrop of several entries. Swiss singer Remo Forrer’s plaintive “Watergun” built outward from the chorus “I don’t wanna be a soldier / I don’t wanna have to play with real blood.” The ramshackle Croatian comedy troupe Let 3, who happened to take the stage because most viewers were a few glasses deep, offered a fake Russian folk song about tractors and Armageddon that made an audible swipe at Vladimir Putin (“That Little Psychopath”).
As we had just learned, Putin used the Eurovision night cover to fire even more missiles in the direction of several Ukrainian cities, most notably Ternopil, Tvorchi’s hometown. That grim news landed all heavy in the middle of an event that has generally suggested what might happen if theater kids, rather than tyrants, ruled the world; not even a great pop song can drown out some boom-bang-a-bangs. Yet the Eurovision Song Contest has long since developed its own way of facing reality, even if it only turns its back on shaking a well-choreographed, gym-tinged poop. As the lyrics of the Slovenian entry, Joker Out’s shrugging mid-tempo “Carpe Diem,” translated, “The game of hate is your thing / Don’t count on us.”
The bookmakers’ favorite was Sweden, represented by Eurovision superstar Loreen and her extraordinary nail extensions. Her jumbled three-minute melodrama “Tattoo” was head and shoulders above 98% of the songs in last week’s semi-finals, but came with its own Achilles’ heel – it wasn’t quite “Euphoria,” the uplifting floor filler with which the singer to victory in 2012. Representing the competition’s more mischievous instincts, Finland’s Käärijä gave us fan favorite “Cha Cha Cha”, an industrial headbanger that devolved into a nurturing sarcastic pastiche of Eurovision winners’ past. (One was reminded of an oppositional aside by stand-up comedian Stewart Lee: “Look, I can joke – I just choose not to.”)
Going in as one song and coming out as another, the cheerfully queer “Cha Cha Cha” best summed up the diversity Eurovision now stands for. The competition is equal parts beer hall, smörgåsbord and tapas bar, allowing spectators to chew on recent developments in Europop. For example, when did Portugal surpass its Spanish neighbors in the art of flamenco? What would an Austrian ode to Edgar Allan Poe sound like? (Not as exciting as you’d hope, unfortunately.) Why was Cypriot Andrew Lambrou apparently sang his heartbroken from the second circle of the Inferno? German rockers Land of the Lost gestured to a unifying theory and bellowed “we are blood and glitter.” They still finished last.
Like theater kids, Eurovision can seem relentless: for two hours out of four, it’s one goddamn song after another. Still, this year’s edition flowed better than most; it made for livelier viewing than most of the BBC’s coverage of the coronation. The backstage interviews were mostly non-essential (recurring response: “I don’t know what else to say”), but our coalition of hosts – Graham Norton, Alesha Dixon, Julia Sanina and “Ted Lasso’s” Hannah Waddingham – proved vibrantly professional, and the scene change skits were understandable, mostly painless and sometimes really funny. (Though Norton’s comment box stand-in Mel Giedroyc had the best line, on Loreen’s nails: “Imagine taking off your tights with that.”)
The redesigned voting process remains a great innovation, opening up the sternly sensible national judging system to the whims of the viewers, charged with giving a final, imperial thumbs up or down. Judge darling Loreen sailed punctually ahead, over a listless Italian ballad. (It wouldn’t be Eurovision without one inexplicable contender in the mix.) But then the audience stormed in, the unruly crowd at a lavish town hall meeting. Norway rose from 20th to 2nd place. Käärijä collected 376 points in one go. If Loreen’s win at midnight – she finally clawed herself across the line – came as a slight disappointment, it’s because it felt like a very safe bet. But there are places in Europe where security must seem like a very big luxury right now.
“Eurovision Song Contest 2023” is now streaming via the BBC iPlayer.
Production Details:
Executive Producer: Andrew Cartmell. Executive responsible for production: James O’Brien. Series Producer: Lewis Thurlow. Lead Producer: Mark Harnell. Senior producer: Kieran O’Brien. Technical producer: James Bonnar. Guest Producers: Alyona Synegina, Kim Allinson, Hilary Whitley. Senior competition producer: Maxime Klein Nagelvoort. Contest Producers: Sita Patel, Amy Fung. Line Producers: Caroline Lloyd, Cherrelle Redley Murrain, Leah Rumbol, Sophie Huda, Anamaria Hennessy, Sara Hulme. Assistant producers: Rosie Smedley, Mica Rowe, Nikki Dennis.