In case you couldn't guess from that unwieldy mouthful of a title, Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga is one of those Will Ferrell comedies set in an insular world filled with wacky, larger-than-life personalities, with Ferrell playing the wackiest, largest personality of them all.
In that regard, Eurovision Song Contest delivers, albeit with diminishing returns. Once again, Ferrell steps into the role of an oblivious man-child, and once again, Ferrell lends him just enough sweetness that he falls on the side of perversely endearing rather than unbearably obnoxious. If the act doesn't feel quite as sharp as it has in the past, he still pulls it off with enough aplomb that it's hard to complain.
But he isn't the real shining star of Eurovision Song Contest(opens in a new tab). That would be Rachel McAdams, who, with help from a good-natured script by Ferrell and Andrew Steele, elevates what could have been a retrograde love interest role into a protagonist worth rooting for. She imbues her role with surprising depth while also serving up her funniest line reading since Game Night's "Oh no, he died."
Ferrell and McAdams play Lars and Sigrit, two halves of a musical duo from small-town Iceland. Like its heroes, Eurovision Song Contest gets off to a rocky start. In the early going, much of the film's humor seems rooted in broad stereotypes of Icelanders, and while the film never quite crosses the line into meanness, one does wonder how actual Icelanders might feel about being painted as a bunch of aggressively quirky weirdos.
By the time Eurovision reached its climax, I was bursting with so much Icelandic pride I'd almost forgotten I am not, in fact, Icelandic.
At least they're likable quirky weirdos. Lars's dream, since childhood, has been to compete in the Eurovision Song Contest; Sigrit's dream has been to be with Lars, which means trying to make it with him into the Eurovision Song Contest. The problem is that they're not very good — their own friends and family jeer their efforts to share new music, demanding they play endless rounds of a cheesy number called "Jaja Ding Dong" instead. Fortunately for Fire Saga, and unfortunately for all of Iceland's other hopefuls, someone's looking out for them. A grotesque stroke of luck gets Lars and Sigrit into the show, and before they know it, they're being whisked off to Edinburgh for the Olympics of pop music.
Their entry into this dizzying, dazzling world is where Eurovision Song Contest starts to pick up. Lars and Sigrit are wide-eyed as they wander city streets and meet the competition, including a snake-hipped Russian named Alexander Lemtov (a scene-stealing Dan Stevens) and a seductive Greek diva named Mita (Melissanthi Mahut) — and wider-eyed still as Lemtov's pre-competition rager turns into a "song-a-long," a joyous explosion of vocal talent that serves as both the centerpiece of the movie and an excuse to feature real Eurovision contestants from years past.
Colleagues of mine who are way more into Eurovision than I am tell me Eurovision is full of references like these — cameos by former participants, performances modeled on past shows, in-jokes about the international politics of the votes. But take it from me, a person who's never seen more than a few minutes of the real show: You don't need to know much about the real Eurovision to enjoy the fake one.
Eurovision Song Contest does all the work for you of making you care about the competition, even if you never had before. For starters, the songs it delivers are straight-up bangers — Fire Saga's "Double Trouble" wouldn't sound out of place on pop radio, give or take a Will Ferrell vocal — and the spectacles accompanying them are sharp and sleek. Eurovision Song Contest may be here to poke fun at the Eurovision Song Contest, but it's clear it comes from a place of affection, not condescension. You'll come away with an appreciation for the artistry of it all, even if it is all a bit goofy.
More importantly, however, the film adds genuine emotional heft to the proceedings through Sigrit. As character journeys go, hers is pretty modest; Lars, who comes within grasp of his impossible aspirations, arguably has a more dramatic one. But McAdams gives such an openhearted performance as Sigrit that Eurovision Song Contest starts to feel more like her story than Lars's. She's the reason I stood and cheered for Iceland, even as I giggled at Fire Saga's latest mishaps.
By the time the competition reached its climax, I was bursting with so much Icelandic pride that I'd almost forgotten I am not, in fact, Icelandic. But such is the power of Eurovision Song Contest. Sure, the "underdog makes good" formula is a well-worn one. Sure, we've seen Ferrell run through this journey before, albeit never with this particular accent. But leave it to McAdams to turn what started out looking like another familiar Will Ferrell vehicle into a showcase for her own underappreciated talents. Sigrit and Lars would be thrilled.
Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga is now streaming on Netflix(opens in a new tab).
