It was time to enjoy some live theatre. After working and writing for several months, a stage show was just what the doctor ordered. This one was all glitter and laser beams.
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 be 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 Margo and I. 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-style 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 in the early 80s (I think) and has broadcast it regularly 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 me. 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 results were delivered to the ‘competition stage’ by ‘satellite’, just like the real Eurovision Song Contest. 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.
Margo’s vote went to England. Mine went to Latvia. Neither of us picked the winner!
And now it’s time to clean off the glitter and go back to writing some more dark fiction.
–Michael (Dark Fiction. Author of SEETHINGS (the first book), free for a limited time)
SEETHINGS II follows the return of the Storm Killer as a body on a secluded beach in Moreton Bay, igniting fear and denial. While police dismiss the link, the media doesn’t. Mitchell Felding forms a dangerous bond with a man who understands his darkest impulses. When Natasha enters his life, carrying love letters from her murdered mother, intimacy deepens, and truth closes in. Some futures are inherited. Some have escaped.
Discover more from Michael Forman – Author of Dark Fiction & Drama
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