Ramping up the Euro-Kitsch with Eurobeat – Almost Eurovision

It was time to enjoy some live theatre. After working and writing for several months, the stage was just what the doctor ordered.

The jaunt to Kwinana’s entertainment centre ‘Koorliny’ was a temporary escape from the domestic routine we’d been running since settling in Beckenham. I was itching to sense some of that theatre magic again and sought an appropriate show to help scratch it.

No, it wasn’t me performing this time.

I hadn’t seen a musical since the last musical I performed in when I was in Brisbane. An audience perspective was just fine this time. I just wanted to a part of it again.

So, to prove that my life is not all writing and disappearing down rabbit holes, we hit the road to see the musical Eurobeat – Almost Eurovision.

I knew nothing of this musical. I’d never even heard of its title. A friend suggested we see it, so we prepared to enjoy a night out. It appealed to both Margo and me. We always enjoy watching Eurovision when it’s on telly—something about its kitschiness really appeals to my warped sense of humour. I like the ridiculous try-hard lyrics set against sequins and puppet-styled dance routines. (Sometimes, I get my costuming ideas from Eurovision!)

Although the Eurovision Song Contest is relatively new to Australians, it’s been a European tradition for decades. Aussie TV picked it up around 2001 (I think) and has become a regular broadcast event ever since.

We laugh at the cheesy suits, ridiculous gowns, absurd hairstyles, and overall delivery of the Eurovision Song Contest.

To match the absurdity of the yearly spectacle, a locally produced theatre company would have to ramp up the kitsch to make it entertaining. And they did just that!

The music pumped to predictable beats, and the lyrics perfectly matched every country’s strength (or weakness). Sweden had its gooey ABBA variant, Iceland had its obligatory bleak noir group, and England continued the tradition of sending an entrant that ticks every box but still fails abysmally—the politically driven irony wasn’t lost on Margo and myself. It had us grinning from ear to ear.

And that’s the point of this show. It’s humourous at every turn. It mocks the Eurovision brand, encouraging the audience to laugh loud and often. And, unlike Eurovision’s long list of 40+ entrants, this compact version clips it down to a sensible ten countries. After all, it’s a two-hour show!

At halftime, the audience voted for its favourite country by popping little flags into a box in the theatre’s foyer. During the second act, the votes were tallied behind the scenes, and the winning results were delivered to the ‘competition stage’ by ‘satellite’, just like the real Eurovision Song Contest event process. In the end, the winner got to perform their number again. It’s a different outcome each night, a different winner from night to night.

And now it’s back to writing. – M