Knowing Ferrell's place in Hollywood comedy, you are aware that by deciding to stream this on Netflix, you are getting yourself into pure camp territory. And you're right. As soon as Ferrell appears on screen in a Viking costume, singing a catchy synth-pop tune called “Volcano Man” with McAdams in the midst of Iceland's black-sand beaches, stunning fjords, and lava lakes, Eurovision establishes itself as intentionally tasteless—but nevertheless hopes to charm you enough to finish its more than two-hour runtime.
And so we are told the story of Fire Saga, the Icelandic musical duo composed of best friends Lars Erickssong (Ferrell) and Sigrit Ericksdottir (McAdams), who grew up together in the tiny fishing village of Husavik, where whales magically leap out of the water—and where a chunk of the town’s female population may have been impregnated by Lars’ “extremely handsome” father, Erick Erickssong (Pierce Brosnan).
Inspired by ABBA at a very young age, Lars and Sigrit have a singular dream: to represent their country in the Eurovision Song Contest (a major annual international song competition that exists in real life) and win it. Lars’ motive? To earn the respect of his hard-to-please dad. Meanwhile, Sigrit’s motive is wholly romantic; she hopes that one day Lars will reciprocate her love.
As the only band in Husavik, Fire Saga frequently plays in the town’s sole pub—to patrons who only want to hear them sing a novelty song that they didn’t even write, “Ja Ja Ding Dong” (which has a steadily growing fanbase on Twitter). No one takes the duo seriously, not because they’re talentless (they’re actually very competent singer-songwriters) but because they’re oddballs frequently mistaken for good-for-nothing siblings.
Co-written by Ferrell, Eurovision also serves as a love letter to the famous decades-old pan-European song competition, which I later learned launched the careers of ABBA and Celine Dion. The contest is characterized by upbeat original song entries performed live with flamboyant productions just as the movie portrays it.
In real life, Iceland has never won the contest since joining in 1986. And so this fantasy tale asks: Will the country known for its ethereal beauty, and as the main filming location of Game of Thrones, finally win the Eurovision Song Contest courtesy of the bumbling Fire Saga?
And this is where the filmmakers mine its cheesy, slapstick comedy: watching Fire Saga repeatedly make a mess on stage—from technical mishaps to public arguments to violent accidents—making them a bigger disgrace to Iceland. This can only elicit a chuckle, but effectively makes you feel sorry for Lars and Sigrit.
The jokes land weakly and are sometimes prolonged to the point of embarrassing. And its copious amounts of kitsch makes it hard to stick to the movie, especially if you’re not even a fan of Europop music. But if your taste leans toward the Sigur Rós kind, you may delight to find the Icelandic band’s music played here more than once.
 |
| Dan Stevens plays Russian Alexander Letmov |
Sadly, the 51-year-old Ferrell, whose facial expression alone used to make you burst into hysterical laughter since the days of Anchorman and Blades of Glory, seems uncharacteristically bland and dry here, overshadowed by a funny Dan Stevens, who obviously enjoyed channeling a billionaire Russian “sexy beast.” His safari-themed Eurovision number “Lion of Love” is what gaudy fun is all about. Although Stevens has proven his singing talent in the live-action Beauty and the Beast, he's just borrowing Eric Mjönes’ voice here.
It also doesn’t help that McAdams feels miscast. There’s no trace of comical in her face. And it’s jarring that her singing voice doesn’t feel like it belongs to her, even though it is—just blended with Swedish pop star Molly Sandén's more professional and powerful voice. But you’ve got to give the Canadian actress credit for not trying hard to look and sound funny. She cleverly stays within her acting range and comfortably performs her sweetly naïve provincial character with mermaid tresses and whose only desire is for Lars to fall in love with her.
Despite the movie's drawbacks, director David Dobkin (Shanghai Knights, Wedding Crashers) still manages to build your anticipation for Fire Saga’s final performance and, more importantly, makes you care for Lars and Sigrit. Fire Saga becomes your very own underdog, and in the finale, your heart swells with Icelandic pride as they take the stage and deliver one of the most passionate love songs sung in a musical comedy.
The film, supported by Eurovision itself and features cameos of past Eurovision contestants (as well as invisible elves and the ghost of Demi Lovato) has elements of both the terrible and the enjoyable. If you’re a fan of ABBA, Cher, or Mamma Mia!, this might give you loads of fun. If not, you still won’t hate this movie; its earnestness makes up for its shoddy script—and there’s a heart underneath all that kooky spectacle.
2.5 out of 5 stars
Streaming on Netflix
Originally published in the Daily Tribune
Comments