In 2005, filmmaker David Dobkin struck comedy gold with “Wedding Crashers,” an oafish, but hilarious bromantic buddy comedy—shades of Todd Phillips’ “Old School”— with some earnest notes of sweetness that has become something of a contemporary comedy classic (it celebrates its 15th anniversary this summer, please call us so we can do an Oral history of this masterpiece, David). Dobkins veered much too far into the dunderheaded, toxic side of bro-ish masculine comedy in 2011’s coarse “The Change-Up,” but for his latest effort, his first feature and comedy since then, “Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga,” the filmmaker finds a sweet spot of zany comedy that lays on the sentimental feel-goodery rather thick. And yet, surprisingly, as mawkish and corny as the movie can get at times, ‘Eurovision Song Contest’ is surprisingly touching and moving too, featuring a terrific, genuinely affecting performance by Rachel McAdams.
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While “Wedding Crashers” stars Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn, its ace in the hole was easily its third lead McAdams, who gives the movie some terrific heart, soul, and emotional dimension (see the incredible scene she has opposite Christopher Walken and you can almost see how he’s surprised how toe-to-toe she goes with him despite having little dialogue.). So, Dobkin wisely hires her, alongside Will Ferrell, as the co-leads of a ridiculous comedy about two small-town Icelandic singers and will-they-or-wont-they-lovers who attempt to chase their pop star dreams at a global music competition.
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And while this is a film seemingly built to employ Ferrell’s ludicrous, over-the-top comedic antics and rightfully exploits the innocent inner-idiot filled with unearned confidence thing he does so well and leverages it for poignant effect against his mean-spirited shitty dad (Pierce Brosnan), McAdams easily runs away with the film, outshines Ferrell, and almost relegates him to a secondary character. It’s a campy bizarre film, tonally— given the almost odd mix of earnestness, schmaltz, and hilarity— but less so when you remember Ferrell has a fondness for strange comedy blends like the Mexican telenovela “Casa De Mi Padre” and the Lifetime movie “A Deadly Adoption.”
‘Eurovision’ starts in a small fishing town in Iceland, where Lars Erickssong (Ferrell) and Sigrit Ericksdottir (McAdams) obsess over cheesy Europop like ABBA (who are genius), and dream of one day entering the famous annual Eurovision contest. Their band Fire Saga is a local joke and Lars’ father is abusive in his barely-hidden contempt with his oafish son’s delusions of superstar grandeur. But the sweet and sympathetic Sigrit, more naïve than the moronic Lars—who pines for the affections of her oblivious musical bandmate—always urges him on, sees the bright side of things and acts as a counterbalance to his dispiriting father.
READ MORE: ‘Eurovision’ Trailer: Will Ferrell & Rachel McAdams Sing The Story Of ‘Fire Saga’
When Fire Saga is selected to enter the local Icelandic finals of Eurovision through sheer dumb luck—selecting the group who will enter the contest and represent the nation—they naturally self-destruct due to Lars’ bumbling idiocy and need to hog the spotlight from the clearly-more-talented Sigrit. But something nefarious is afoot it seems and when the entire Icelandic Eurovision finalists are blown up in a freakish yacht accident, Fire Saga are selected to represent Iceland by default.
And so begins the journey of Fire Saga, Lars, and Sigrit, competing all over Europe in competitions to reach the Eurovision finals. While there are plenty of self-sabotaging obstacles—including the arrogant, conniving, possibly gay, and self-involved Russian singer Alexander Lemtov (a scene-stealing Dan Stevens, rather hilarious despite the slight twinges of problematic homophobia inherent in his character)— the duo seemingly stumble and inch their way towards the finale for a wonderful crescendo of a third act.
Ultimately, “Eurovision: Song Contest” isn’t all that funny, especially when considered next to some of Will Ferrell’s more gut-busting comedies or even “Wedding Crashers” (which Ferrell had a cameo in). But it’s arguably not trying to be, especially in the third act when it mostly discards the idiots failing upward comedy (more centered on Ferrell) and shifts towards a more uplifting, feel-good dramedy about underdogs pulling an unexpected victory out of their ass, a la “Bad News Bears” and frankly, a lot of the sports comedies that Ferrell’s been in about basketball, competitive figure skating, and NASCAR racing.
The difference is, instead of the absurdism of say “Talladega Nights,” Dobkins’ film moves into a saccharine, earnest mode centered around McAdams and her character’s hidden songwriting talents, heretofore ignored by Lars’ fatuous ego. It’s a transformation that will likely disappoint traditional Will Ferrell comedy fans, but not only is it unique and unexpected, but McAdams is also so damn convincing and emotionally honest—even in the dumbest of scenes—so “Eurovision” and its ending totally works. Even the movie’s closing-the-loop subplot with Brosnan, finally awakening to his son’s talents and dreams is surprisingly poignant.
If anything, “Eurovision” is somewhat confused with what it wants to be—a wacky comedy that wants to be a feel-good “beautiful losers” story and or an underdog tale that feels obligated to use some of Ferrell’s gifts towards the inane (there’s a weird subplot with Demi Lovato as a ghost that’s just too bizarre to elaborate on). And ironically, the movie is co-written by Will Ferrell himself, strangely enough, given its decisions to lean into Sigrid and not his character. But it points to the movies hope to do something a little different, a little unexpected, and a little warm and affectionate.
“Eurovision Song Contest” might be best summed up in its use of accents. Ferrell’s is absolutely hysterically terrible. In the rare instances that he does actually try, the accent sounds riotously off. McAdams, on the other hand, sounds persuasively like Björk’s cousin having spent months vocal training with Sigur Rós (unsurprisingly, the Icelandic post-rock group is all over the soundtrack). And it’s McAdams’ believability, even tangibly intense commitment to this absurd role, that really sells Dobkins’ winning film and makes it sing sonorously, warts and all. [B]