It sure is a hard knock life being a Eurovisional critic. Because behind every brilliant entry, that is sure to make your heart pound, your head spin and your level of endorphins grow entirely out of proportions, there will be a few not so good ones. Some entries could even classify as bad. And some are so entirely annoying you end up spending your whole weekend feeling sorry for yourself for ever having to review it.
Germany is reserved a special and lonely place in that last category. The reason is not so much the utterly exaggerated cougar-diva-pumped-up-with-botox-and-restylane-and-silicone-style that might have worked if the artist Natalie Horler was a fabulous drag queen, which she definitely is not. What’s worse is the horrid scheme this seems to be based on.
To us it seems like Germany sat down, decided to make a song that would make the stereotype fags and faghags of Europe go ballistic so that they could reuse the Dusseldorf arena next year. Angela Merkel might even have been involved to make sure no other European country would win and go bankrupt and ask for more money from the bank of Europe. Sounds like a good plan, but the problem is careful planning never makes good culture. We need the unexpected instead of the repeats; the rearrangement instead of the copies; the genuine empathy instead of soulless delivery. Instead, Germany graced us with a predictable readymade not even Jeff Koons could have fixed.
Whenever this happens, Thomas G:Son is usually involved, but not even he would have taken it this far and for that we salute him. This is totally without interest, without message, without flare and without point.
That is why our review will end here the same way.