I don’t think anyone had high expectations for “Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga,” but out of boredom and a suggestive Netflix algorithm, I decided to give it a try.
It wasn’t great, but the movie pays a nice tribute to Eurovision, the annual European song competition known for its flamboyant and over-the-top performances.
Director David Dobkin’s rollicking film provides a much-needed emotional catharsis for its viewers — a satisfying Eurovision fix for the fans who missed out on this year’s competition, which was canceled due to COVID-19. Though Eurovision was originally created to unite countries in a live televised event after the turmoil of World War II, over time, it has become a symbol of the shared European passion for music. Dobkin humanizes the over-the-top Eurovision singing contest that draws singers from all around Europe through the authentic inclusion of behind-the-scenes banter, flamboyant costumes and feel-good sportsmanship.
The movie found a place in my heart mainly through song. I enjoyed the cheesy moments where the contestants were gathered together and burst into song. The use of actual former contestants made the moment all the more magical, as I remembered most of them from binging Eurovision videos on YouTube. Even though this is legitimately the only time they’re all present, the synergy in this one scene is unmatched by the rest of the film. This was the point in the movie where it turned around for me.
Eventually, I also couldn’t help singing along to the catchy songs, like “Lion of Love” and “Jaja Ding Dong.” Despite the absurdity, they pay homage to songs from the real competition in their glitzy lightheartedness and simplicity.
The characters of ‘Fire Saga,’ however, were woefully subpar. The movie follows Lars Erickssong (Will Ferrel) and Sigrit Ericksdóttir (Rachel McAdams), a mediocre Icelandic singing duo who find themselves on the big stage of Eurovision. I don’t know which one I liked less: Lars, an awkward, outlandish fool or Sigrit, intelligent and vocally adept, but sappily and pathetically infatuated with her singing partner.
A side character manages to outshine them both — Alexander Lemtov, played by Dan Stevens. Alexander’s gender fluidity and embrace of his sexuality is a refreshing break from Hollywood’s beloved tendency towards cisgender males. Despite his blatant attraction to Sigrit, he puts his sexual agenda aside to emotionally support her as she grows in character and cracks out of her well-kept shell. From Sigrit waking up after a night of drinking to him braiding her hair in an intricacy unbeknownst to the male species, to him respectfully maintaining a distance to keep from interfering in Lars and Sigrit’s relationship, his kind of character is unprecedented to the world onscreen.
Too often we are subjected to depictions of virile men exercising their third leg in hopes of attracting women, and it reinforces the all too familiar image of men exploiting incapacitated and intoxicated women in film (Think “Pretty in Pink”). In fact, in the aforementioned braiding scene, I had assumed that he took full advantage of her when the camera cut to her in his bed the day after. It’s painfully clear how indicative this kind of reaction is of the patriarchal society we live in that has been perpetuated by media, so it’s simply touching — and even relieving — to see how Lemtov truly believes in Sigrit’s talent and only wants to help her share it with the world. Perhaps all men could learn a lesson from him.
While watching the movie was a pleasant experience, there’s a lack of that “it factor” that sets it apart from any other musical movie. “La La Land” has its cinematography, “Pitch Perfect” has its medleys, “A Star is Born” has its chemistry and even “Cats” has its cats! But what does Eurovision have? Besides its appreciation for European articles, there’s simply nothing all that groundbreaking or special.
Was it the worst movie I’ve watched? No. Will I forget about it in a month? Yes. But I still would recommend.
Contact Julie Ham at julieham03 ‘at’ gmail.com.