The voting was a formality, with Sweden the clear winners after about five minutes – douze points from every other country’s jury vote – and an unfortunately poor Ukraine effort well behind, along with the UK’s bland, too overtly Eurovision-y song. Waddingham didn’t have much chance to bring her strutting, voguing, gurning charm to an international audience in the early stages, and Giedroyc unfortunately spoke over her unlikely catchphrase: “ Attention! Vous ne pouvez pas voter pour votre propre pays! D’accord?” As the night wore on, however, Waddingham’s manic enthusiasm radiated. The star in the contestants’ midst was Waddingham, whose hosting of the semi-finals – exuding the excitement of a fan who is also a consummately professional broadcaster, despite the theatre and TV actor’s lack of presenting experience – had catapulted her immediately to the status of Eurovision camp cult heroine. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply. For more information see our Privacy Policy. Privacy Notice: Newsletters may contain info about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. It looked like the result of someone lacing the porridge in a maximum-security prison with PCP, just before the lags who rule the murder wing take the stage at the Christmas talent show. The wildcard was Croatia with Mama ŠČ!, a stomping terrace chant performed by a quintet of hard men in fuchsia lipstick, handlebar moustaches, and trenchcoats that were ditched halfway through to reveal plain vests and pants. Wearing them, and not a lot else, on the night was Käärijä, belting out the hard, happy techno of his song Cha Cha Cha and mastering choreography that required him to ride a human centipede of cerise-clad ballroom dancers like a long, fabulous horse.Īpart from Austria, crowd-pleasers included Belgium, with a lovely slice of diva-disco that might have filled floors in gay clubs in about 1992 an inspirational ballad from Italy, which could be the hero’s-epiphany showstopper in the third act of a mid-ranking musical and Norway, with lyrics about a warrior ruling “the north and southern seas” sung by Alessandra in a gold crown and shoulder-padded green tunic, a song that sounded like the theme to a Game of Thrones spin-off where everything happens at three times the speed. Before the competition started, the bookies had had it as a straight fight between Sweden and Finland, a country where everyone from the ministry of economic affairs to the Ateneum Art Museum had spent the week tweeting memes featuring plastic green bolero sleeves. The first big hitter came in the form of Sweden, with their competitor, Loreen, remorselessly imprinting the chorus of power ballad Tattoo – big swooping note, cute trilling hook, big swooping note – into brains across the continent, despite lying down for most of the performance. Once again ably doing the affectionate mickey-taking perfected by the late Terry Wogan, Norton helped us through it all, kindly bigging up some of the less innovative acts and slyly dismissing also-rans, while also managing to gently satirise the presenting, despite being a part of the presentation team himself. After that, he and Eurovision settled into their rhythm, the songs offering the modern mix of mechanised modern pop – big wobbly key changes have long since gone out of fashion – and bewildering regional eccentricity. Norton was audibly breathless as he introduced the second act, Portugal, whose song was fast fado with a crimson-feathered Weimar flourish. “Auntie Gladys, do your calf stretches please.” “There’s a signature dance move coming up,” said Mel Giedroyc, filling in on the voiceover while Norton made his way up the stairs. The performances began, as only Eurovision could, with the Gaga-Dada kick-drum funk of Austria’s Teya & Salena, a duo singing about being possessed by Edgar Allan Poe (chorus: “Poe! Poe! Poe, Poe, Poe!”) with Poe’s face rendered in glowing red pixels on the 50ft screen behind them. He was there with Hannah Waddingham, Alesha Dixon and Ukrainian rockstar Julia Sanina for their introductory remarks, before trotting back to his booth. The show solved the problem of whether regular BBC commentator Graham Norton ought to stay in the booth and talk exclusively to UK viewers, or go on stage to co-present the show itself, by making him do both. When that was over, it was time to meet the hosts. The show opened with a reprise of Stefania, our polite indulgence made easier by the distraction of a video treatment with shades of the filmed inserts at the 2012 Olympics: making inexplicable guest appearances were Joss Stone, a demonically grinning Andrew Lloyd Webber and, seated at a piano in a Windsor Castle drawing room, the Princess of Wales.
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