Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga, the Will Ferrell and Rachel McAdams-starring Netflix film that's sweeping the nation, is based on a genuine, bonafide musical competition. The Eurovision Song Contest has been a mainstay of European culture since 1956. During each competition, countries submit just one song to represent their "best song of the year," competing against other countries in lavish, delightful, and usually very silly performances. A jury comprised of representatives from all of these countries assign each song a series of points (they're not allowed to vote for their own country), yielding a winner that is, as "technically" and "objectively" as possible, the best song in the world. The winner's country gets a bunch of pride and hosts the competition next year.
It's Europe's equivalent of the Super Bowl and Academy Awards combined. It's a big, honkin' deal. As such, a musical comedy made about the subject needed to get its ducks in a row and craft some banging tunes that deserve the Eurovision mantle.
Luckily for all of us, David Dobkin's Eurovision is packed with wonderful, earnestly catchy, professional-quality original songs. The songwriting teams and vocalists gathered for the film have put in their work and thensome (with many of them written and performed by actual Eurovision competitors and winners), resulting in a soundtrack that will stand the test of time even in its dated-on-purpose silliness. But which of these songs stands above the rest?
It's time to have our own mini-Eurovision. I've pitted all original tunes from Eurovision against each other (disqualifying songs like the cover of "Happy," the disco-post-punk of Anteros' "Fool Moon," the beyond beautiful jazz waltz of Salvador Sobral's "Amar pelos Dois," and the unbridled medley pleasures of the "Song-A-Long"), and I have yielded a champion.
Here, now, are all of the original songs from Eurovision, ranked. For more from this magical world, here's our own Jeff Sneider's ranking of the best Will Ferrell movies.
10. Hit My Itch
Sunny, fun, and technically impressive, "Hit My Itch" is, I think, a style parody of the sort of "retro-leaning throwback bubblegum pop" that's popular not just in the real Eurovision contests (I'm remembering a 1980s tune that was a '50s Beach Boys pastiche), but on our normal-ass American charts as well (think Meghan Trainor). "HIt My Itch" is rife with delightfully surprising, Motown-vibing chords and melody movements; the chorus' descending line from root to major seventh to sixth and back up is so lovely, there's enough tasty key changes to feed Jacob Collier for nine years, and when we revisit the chorus several times, its progression hits that "root to tritone" sweet spot of retro pop. But the song simply doesn't stick with me. There's not a real comedy game being played, so I don't laugh at it. And everything from a theory standpoint gets so convoluted, that it's hard to hum later. It feels like a wisp of pleasant enough air blowing through the wind, not sticking to my bones for any real reason or amount of time.
9. Coolin' with da Homies
To quote the always quotable Childish Gambino, "This joke rap shit's gotten out of hand / Only ones who do it well's Lonely Island." I don't think we need to cancel all of "comedy hip hop," but Gambino does make a good point. Why does the Lonely Island (Andy Samberg, Jorma Taccone, Akiva Schaffer) succeed in such a difficult genre to wade through? I think there's two reasons. One: Their songs, from a pure "the craft of bangers" standpoint, slam hard. Two: Their comedy games slam even harder. Unfortunately, "Coolin' with da Homies," Eurovision's entry into the joke rap game, kinda does neither. Its beat is fun enough, with a pseudo-reggae style that beefs up to a double-time brass-infused chorus that might get in your head. And its game is mildly clear: An out-of-touch performer performs out-of-touch hip-hop slang. But this game is not nearly hit hard enough, instead resulting in lyrics that are "passable enough," instead of the hard absurdism and heightening it needed to be funny. Although: The "people say I talk too fast" run is very, very good.
8. Lion of Love
Dan Stevens stans (Stan Stevens?) may get upset with me, and I fully get it. My colleague Allie Gemmill gets into why his character Alexander Lemtov is such a wonderful, heartfelt, silly-and-sincere addition to the world of Eurovision, and they're absolutely right. But Stevens' big showpiece song, "Lion of Love," is not quite the slam dunk home run I want it to be. It's so fun, so theatrical, and performed with such gusto by Stevens and vocalist Erik Mjönes. The verse melody shape is catchy, smart, and silly; its oscillations between major and minor chordal centers and modes are so ear-grabbing and evocative of the character's Russian heritage; and its multiple key changes are so appropriate to the Eurovision vibe. But the chorus just does not grab me! It's busy, impatient, not soaring high or slow enough to honor Mjönes' majestically operatic baritone. I want this tune to be Lemtov's big, grandiose statement. Instead, it's a paragraph in desperate need of some cutting.
7. In the Mirror
Demi Lovato is one of my favorite contemporary pop stars, and she absolutely brings the thunder on "In the Mirror," a soaring ballad-with-a-beat. "Then why does it feel like I'm the loneliest girl in the world" pre-chorus line is rife with emotion, and the rapid step down in melody on "world" slams me every time. And when she hits that chorus? My word. The melody climbs right on up to the big, showy root before immediately diving back down, mimicking the emotional journey of the song perfectly. I also love that on the second time we hit the pre-chorus and chorus, we hear the original, catchy, invigorating melodies while the instruments and Lovato's soaring, ad libbed vocals heighten to a place of shimmering pop show-offy goodness! However: The song's undeniable powers hit a snag in their unfortunately generic lyrics, and completely unmemorable verse melody. I want this tune to have a much stronger, more specific POV to match Lovato's strong, specific performance. And I've said it before, I'll say it again: Your verse has gotta be as catchy as your chorus!
6. Come and Play (Masquerade)
This song, perhaps more than any other song on the list so far, feels like a genuine Eurovision track. "Come and Play (Masquerade)" is theatrical, glam-emo-pop at its finest, like if you hired Gerard Way or Brendon Urie to moonlight on a top 40 artist's new single. It wears "sex" with purposeful glee and not much lived-in maturity. It's the perfect tune for a theater kid who just watched Cabaret for the first time to learn every word to. The game -- "come into our world of madness!" -- is so clear and so accurately, delightfully, intoxicatingly rendered, hitting that sweet spot of "earnest and funny" that the whole film lives in. I love the chromatic-centered melody lines throughout the tune, I love the pompous swing it's predicated on, and I love that there are two key changes, which is such a Eurovision move! It also, beyond its self-contained pleasures, fits perfectly into the narrative of what's happening in the film. As for the final, solo "masquerade" delivered by vocalist Petra Nielsen? I've got chills. What a tune!
5. Double Trouble
Wait, what was I saying about "Come and Play" sounding like a real Eurovision tune? Because this... is a real Eurovision tune. "Double Trouble" is wonderful, wonderful piece of Europop, down to its immediately catchy title. The first verse melody is a work of mastery, evocative of classical construction, traditional Scandinavian folks, and syrupy sweet contemporary pop goodness. The final lift on the pre-chorus, from the root of the five to the third of the five, gives me goosebumps -- doubly so when its harmonized in the second pre-chorus! As for that chorus itself? Wowie zowie. It's rich, it's earned, it hits the perfect intersection between "coming from a genuine place of emotional authenticity" and "being delicious nonsense predicated on a deliciously nonsensical phrase." I will say -- Ferrell's second verse skirts a little too far into "easy jokes" (especially that "I don't really give a WHAT" line, cringe city) and I wish it mimicked the perfect melody of the first verse. But from its songwriting to its production and just about everything in between, "Double Trouble" will be on repeat more than twice for me. I don't understand why everyone viewed it so askance in the film!
4. Jaja Ding Dong
I'm with you, Hannes Óli Ágústsson. I also want "Jaja Ding Dong" to be playing constantly, and if it is not, I will scream at the top of my lungs until it happens. "Jaja Ding Dong" is supposed to be an embarrassing song for Fire Saga, a hacky, basic, pandering folk tune that doesn't represent Ferrell and McAdams' true goals and aspirations. The problem is... it's really good. It's a blast of utter joy, a rollicking, foot-stamping, call-and-response number that is more and more infectious the more you hear it. It's also sneakily adventurous: the move to the minor sixth near the back half of the verse provides a lovely touch of variation before heading back toward the sunny major center, and the major second in the chorus is a wonderful bit of "positive tension." Also, the lyrics, before our characters even know it, speak to the lessons of collaboration and love they need to learn! Do I wish the verse was twice as long? Do I wish the vocal lines had some harmonies rather than straight unison? Perhaps. But when a song is this blissfully joyful, small quibbles easily melt away. Hot Take: If they had submitted this song to Eurovision up front, they would've had a big chance at winning.
3. Husavik
"Husavik" is earth-shatteringly beautiful. It's the climactic number of the film. It organically satisfies many of the dangling emotional and narrative threads, including McAdams' desire to sing in her native Icelandic, and the mythical high note that closes the number. It is what the production will undoubtedly submit to the Oscars for Best Original Song, and it has a high chance of winning. I cried when I first watched it. How on earth is "Husavik" not an automatic number one?!
Yeah, it breaks my heart, too. But the unfortunate fact is that "in my hometown" is a sonically clunky hook to hang a pre-chorus on, despite its obvious emotional, narrative satisfactions. And here, more than on any other song, we hear the difference between Ferrell and vocalist Molly Sandén, whose voice was blended with McAdams' to create her character's final singing voice. And the difference is... exposed. Ferrell coming in on the second verse with supporting vocal lines before boosting the Icelandic chorus should be a perfect move, but he simply cannot blend with what the song needs from him, his flat affect sticking out in what should be the most dramatic moment of the song and film.
Still, though. "Husavik" is undeniable. The opening progression and melody shape underneath, lifting up to a major chord before falling to a minor, are simple and devastating. The melody shapes on each part are wonderful. The chorus, in all its Icelandic glory, soars above us. The final note is breathtaking, and the decision to leave in Sandén's actual breath after sustaining this note for so long is... um... "breath-receiving?" A powerful, emotional song that won't go away from my consciousness for some time.
2. Running with the Wolves
Hell... yes! In just a little over one minute, "Running with the Wolves" does everything it sets out to do perfectly. I love the wild, Gwar-like theatricality of the lead vocal performance in the verse -- not to mention the in-film, monstrous horrorcore costumes and vibes the band performs with aplomb. The game of the song, the vibes of the song, the lyrical and melodic content -- it's all so crystal clear. And then, in the pre-chorus, everything changes. A lilting, subtly soaring, even gentle female vocal comes in, taking us directly into candy-coated, Evanescence pop-industrial territory. Reader, my jaw dropped. And when the progression below them lifts into this incredible, out-of-nowhere major color chord, and the two harmonize closely with each other, it becomes surprising, enticing, beautiful. As for the chorus? My goodness, this chorus. A perfect chord progression that honors every disparate vibe set up before it, an instantly catchy hook with a clear focus, a point of view that offers something for every taste. "Running with the Wolves" is a perfect object on par with Michelangelo's David, or peanut butter. I have listened to it 8,000 times, and I will listen to it 8,000 times more. We are all #RunningWithTheWolves.
1. Volcano Man
From top to bottom, "Volcano Man" clears every goal Eurovision and its songs try to accomplish with double back flips. It's so earnest and so silly. Its aesthetics hop and jump through, like, all of European music, classical and pop, with a sense of childlike glee taken very seriously. Its lyrics immediately evoke the powers of music ("I heard floating chords, they guided me"), the powers of love, and the powers of one's hometown -- all themes explored throughout the rest of the film. But they're also so blissfully dumb, heightening to that wonderful "Volcano Man" reveal that is true and utter nonsense, popping hard because of the dramatic base reality before it.
I love the sparseness of the arrangement in the beginning, with Ferrell's constant bass notes guiding us through the intuitive chord progression while McAdams/Sandén's vocals simply glisten atop. This sparseness makes the fullness of the chorus hit even harder, soaring over the picturesque everything of Iceland, and descending beautifully into a major-seventh-using vocal harmony. I also love the tune's hopping between being centered around a minor key and/or its relative major, giving it both a sense of hope and melancholy simultaneously.
Like the movie it stems from, "Volcano Man" is fun, sweet, emotionally deep, and an absolute blast. It is the perfect encapsulation of all things Eurovision. The United States of Gregory Lawrence gives it 12 points.