logo
Sauna-loving Swedes gather steam for Eurovision final

Sauna-loving Swedes gather steam for Eurovision final

Perth Now13-05-2025
Competition has kicked off in the 69th Eurovision Song Contest with sauna-loving Swedish entry KAJ gaining a place in the final and five countries going home after the first of two semi-finals in the pan-continental music extravaganza.
Performers from 15 countries battled it out in front of thousands of fans in Basel, Switzerland for 10 spots in Saturday's final, with the result decided by viewers' votes.
Betting market favourites KAJ, a trio of Swedish-speaking Finns, performed Bara Bada Bastu, a catchy ode to steam and heat whose title translates roughly as 'just take a sauna', accompanied by dancers dressed as lumberjacks and clad in towels.
Joining KAJ in the final is another favourite with oddsmakers, 21-year-old Dutch singer Claude with soulful, Parisian-style ballad C'est La Vie. Claude hopes to win for his country after the Netherlands' 2024 contestant, Joost Klein, was kicked out of Eurovision over a backstage altercation.
Others voted into the final include Icelandic brother duo VAEB with a rap song about rowing, R?a, Norwegian singer Kyle Alessandro's Lighter and two uber-Italian songs that aren't from Italy: DJ Gabry Ponte, representing San Marino with the upbeat Tutta L'Italia and the highly caffeinated Espresso Macchiato by Estonia's Tommy Cash.
Ukraine, Portugal, Poland and Albania also made the final. Azerbaijan, Belgium, Croatia, Cyprus and Slovenia were eliminated.
Music fans across Europe and beyond have travelled to the northern Swiss city of Basel, which is hosting Eurovision because Swiss singer Nemo won last year's contest in Sweden.
Canadian chanteuse Celine Dion, who won Eurovision for Switzerland before she became a mega-star, sent a video message that was played before some of last year's competitors performed her 1988 contest-winning song, Ne partez pas sans moi.
Viewers were also entertained with a comic song performed by hosts Hazel Brugger and Sandra Studer celebrating Swiss inventions including the Swiss Army knife, muesli, processed cheese - and Eurovision, first staged in Lausanne in 1956.
Tuesday's showdown and a second semi-final on Thursday will narrow the field of 37 nations down to 26 who will compete in Saturday's grand final. Twenty finalists will be decided by viewers' votes, while six countries automatically qualify for the final: the host, Switzerland, and the 'Big Five' who pay the most to the contest - France, Germany, Italy, Spain and the UK.
Flying the flag for Australia is singer-songwriter Marty Zambotto, better known by his stage name Go-Jo, who will perform Milkshake Man in Thursday's semi-final (on Friday, Australian time).
Eurovision was founded partly to foster unity on a continent scarred by World War II, and its motto is United by Music. But political divisions often cloud the contest, despite organisers' efforts to keep politics out.
Officials say more than 1000 police officers are on duty in Basel this week, and organisers are expecting protests against Israel's participation because of the country's conduct of its war against Hamas in Gaza.
A demonstration against anti-Semitism is also planned on Thursday, the day Israeli singer Yuval Raphael performs in the second semi-final.
Raphael is a survivor of Hamas militants' October 7, 2023, attack on southern Israel that killed 1200 people. More than 52,800 people in Gaza have been killed in Israel's retaliatory offensive, according to the territory's health ministry.
Following tensions over Israel's participation and Klein's expulsion in 2024, the European Broadcasting Union that organises Eurovision has tightened the contest's code of conduct, calling on participants to respect Eurovision's values of 'universality, diversity, equality and inclusivity' and its political neutrality.
Audience members will be allowed to wave Palestinian flags inside Basel's St Jakobshalle arena, after a contentious ban last year. Participants, however, can only wave their own national flag onstage or in other on-camera areas. Some delegations have protested that effectively bans LGBTQI pride flags from an event with a huge gay following.
Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

‘It's only right it should be polarising': Ari Aster on his bonkers COVID film
‘It's only right it should be polarising': Ari Aster on his bonkers COVID film

Sydney Morning Herald

timea day ago

  • Sydney Morning Herald

‘It's only right it should be polarising': Ari Aster on his bonkers COVID film

To say that Eddington has had mixed reviews would be an understatement. The fourth feature from wunder(no-longer-a-)kind Ari Aster has been taken by some critics as further evidence of his unique vision, and by others as proof that the promise he showed with his horror debut, Hereditary, and the Swedish folk-nightmare, Midsommar, has now been completely squandered, via the baffling Oedipal fantasy of Beau is Afraid (2023) and now this baffling, inflammatory and potentially traumatising take on the early days of COVID. For some filmmakers, that would be worrying. But for the famously contrarian 39-year-old, Aster, it's as it should be. 'This is a movie about polarisation, and it's only right that the response should be polarised,' he says. 'It feels to me like it's doing what it's designed to do.' Eddington is a sprawling modern-day Western, set in the New Mexico town of the title during the early days of the pandemic. But what exactly were you aiming for with this twisted, funny, and ultimately hyper-violent movie about a conservative sheriff (Joaquin Phoenix) and a progressive mayor (Pedro Pascal) whose opposing views escalate into outright hostility during the dog days of lockdown? 'Well, I wanted to make a film about what the world feels like right now, and specifically what America feels like to me,' Aster says. 'That's where I'm living and where the film is set, but it does feel like it's something that is happening all over the world.' The small town of Eddington, New Mexico – the state in which New York-based Aster grew up – functions as a microcosm of everything that's gone wrong with the world in terms of our seeming inability to seek or to find common ground. And that unwillingness to admit the validity of views other than our own is fed, heightened and reinforced by the media – social and antisocial – that we consume. 'We all know we're in our own echo chambers because we're trapped in a system based on feedback,' says Aster. 'The problem is that people can't remember that they know that. Eddington is about what happens when feedback ramps up beyond control and the bubbles collide.' It's not just Phoenix's Joe Cross and Pascal's Ted Garcia who are swept up in the drama. All around them, people seem locked into their own takes on what is going on, what is true, what is a conspiracy, what can be believed and what demands you 'do your research'. There are cults, there are protests, there is a wild profusion of guns. Above all, there is anger and chaos. Loading It is, says Aster, 'a movie about a bunch of people who are living in different realities, and they're all very upset about what's happening in the world. They can tell that something is very, very wrong, but none of them agrees on what that thing is. And it's about what happens when those people start to bump up against each other.' As sheriff, Joe is tasked with enforcing the law. But what happens when he thinks the law is an ass, or that it doesn't apply to him? And while Ted is tasked with managing the town, he seems to have benefited more from its move into renewables and high-tech data storage facilities than the average burgher. Does that make him smart or lucky, or simply prove he is corrupt? Doubt and suspicion and a murkiness of motive are the forces that animate Eddington. 'It's a film about a bunch of paranoid people,' says Aster. 'And the film itself becomes paranoid.' There are street protests, spurred by the killing of George Floyd and the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement, and confrontations over whether to wear masks or not. But the tension reaches its zenith when a heavily armed militia, dressed in black and wearing balaclavas, drops into Eddington and starts shooting – with both weapons and phone cameras. The film positions these interlopers as Antifa (anti-fascists), or at least as pretending to be Antifa. But it also shows them flying into Eddington aboard a luxury private jet. And for some viewers (me included), this is the most problematic moment in the movie, the moment when it tips from presenting conspiracies as the product of subjective world views to offering it up as an objective reality. It is also, says Aster, 'the moment where the film announces itself as satire, very clearly'. And the scene on the plane, he adds, 'should function as something of a Rorschach test'. But what do you think people might see in that Rorschach test? 'Somebody might see Antifa's super soldiers being sent in by George Soros,' he says, referring to the billionaire investor and backer of liberal causes who some conspiracists on the right imagine to be a shadowy puppet-master. 'Or somebody might see crisis actors being sent in to pretend to be Antifa. What we know is that those people, once they land, are filming everything they're doing, so they're putting on a production. I'll leave it at that. 'But I will say that I recognised, while I was making it – we all did – that this is the moment at which we're inviting misinterpretations,' he adds. 'But that's sort of the point.' Given that deliberate sowing of confusion, albeit as a reflection of the confusion that currently besets the US and perhaps many of the other liberal democracies in the world, one might be curious about where Aster's own sympathies lie. If that's not too mundane a question to ask. 'You're asking if I'm left or right,' he says. 'I'm left, but part of the project is about turning a mirror on myself and trying to see the humanity in people who hold beliefs that I see as being against mine, or trying to see the humanity in people we might abhor.' He sees a lot of himself in the young activists who call for the defunding of the police and bemoan the ethical ravages of white privilege. But the film holds them up to the same satirical scrutiny as anyone else. His aim throughout was to tell a story about 'a community of people who aren't really a community at all'. And its writing was informed by travelling around New Mexico, meeting and talking to a lot of people, some of whom were the polar opposite of Aster, ideologically speaking. 'Meeting a lot of these people really helped the movie get away from me in a very useful way,' he says. 'I'm trying to pull back as far as I can, and I'm trying to honour – at least to a point – as many voices in the cacophony as possible. The most uninteresting thing I could do would be to condescend to or totally dismiss the point of view of any of these people.'

‘It's only right it should be polarising': Ari Aster on his bonkers COVID film
‘It's only right it should be polarising': Ari Aster on his bonkers COVID film

The Age

timea day ago

  • The Age

‘It's only right it should be polarising': Ari Aster on his bonkers COVID film

To say that Eddington has had mixed reviews would be an understatement. The fourth feature from wunder(no-longer-a-)kind Ari Aster has been taken by some critics as further evidence of his unique vision, and by others as proof that the promise he showed with his horror debut, Hereditary, and the Swedish folk-nightmare, Midsommar, has now been completely squandered, via the baffling Oedipal fantasy of Beau is Afraid (2023) and now this baffling, inflammatory and potentially traumatising take on the early days of COVID. For some filmmakers, that would be worrying. But for the famously contrarian 39-year-old, Aster, it's as it should be. 'This is a movie about polarisation, and it's only right that the response should be polarised,' he says. 'It feels to me like it's doing what it's designed to do.' Eddington is a sprawling modern-day Western, set in the New Mexico town of the title during the early days of the pandemic. But what exactly were you aiming for with this twisted, funny, and ultimately hyper-violent movie about a conservative sheriff (Joaquin Phoenix) and a progressive mayor (Pedro Pascal) whose opposing views escalate into outright hostility during the dog days of lockdown? 'Well, I wanted to make a film about what the world feels like right now, and specifically what America feels like to me,' Aster says. 'That's where I'm living and where the film is set, but it does feel like it's something that is happening all over the world.' The small town of Eddington, New Mexico – the state in which New York-based Aster grew up – functions as a microcosm of everything that's gone wrong with the world in terms of our seeming inability to seek or to find common ground. And that unwillingness to admit the validity of views other than our own is fed, heightened and reinforced by the media – social and antisocial – that we consume. 'We all know we're in our own echo chambers because we're trapped in a system based on feedback,' says Aster. 'The problem is that people can't remember that they know that. Eddington is about what happens when feedback ramps up beyond control and the bubbles collide.' It's not just Phoenix's Joe Cross and Pascal's Ted Garcia who are swept up in the drama. All around them, people seem locked into their own takes on what is going on, what is true, what is a conspiracy, what can be believed and what demands you 'do your research'. There are cults, there are protests, there is a wild profusion of guns. Above all, there is anger and chaos. Loading It is, says Aster, 'a movie about a bunch of people who are living in different realities, and they're all very upset about what's happening in the world. They can tell that something is very, very wrong, but none of them agrees on what that thing is. And it's about what happens when those people start to bump up against each other.' As sheriff, Joe is tasked with enforcing the law. But what happens when he thinks the law is an ass, or that it doesn't apply to him? And while Ted is tasked with managing the town, he seems to have benefited more from its move into renewables and high-tech data storage facilities than the average burgher. Does that make him smart or lucky, or simply prove he is corrupt? Doubt and suspicion and a murkiness of motive are the forces that animate Eddington. 'It's a film about a bunch of paranoid people,' says Aster. 'And the film itself becomes paranoid.' There are street protests, spurred by the killing of George Floyd and the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement, and confrontations over whether to wear masks or not. But the tension reaches its zenith when a heavily armed militia, dressed in black and wearing balaclavas, drops into Eddington and starts shooting – with both weapons and phone cameras. The film positions these interlopers as Antifa (anti-fascists), or at least as pretending to be Antifa. But it also shows them flying into Eddington aboard a luxury private jet. And for some viewers (me included), this is the most problematic moment in the movie, the moment when it tips from presenting conspiracies as the product of subjective world views to offering it up as an objective reality. It is also, says Aster, 'the moment where the film announces itself as satire, very clearly'. And the scene on the plane, he adds, 'should function as something of a Rorschach test'. But what do you think people might see in that Rorschach test? 'Somebody might see Antifa's super soldiers being sent in by George Soros,' he says, referring to the billionaire investor and backer of liberal causes who some conspiracists on the right imagine to be a shadowy puppet-master. 'Or somebody might see crisis actors being sent in to pretend to be Antifa. What we know is that those people, once they land, are filming everything they're doing, so they're putting on a production. I'll leave it at that. 'But I will say that I recognised, while I was making it – we all did – that this is the moment at which we're inviting misinterpretations,' he adds. 'But that's sort of the point.' Given that deliberate sowing of confusion, albeit as a reflection of the confusion that currently besets the US and perhaps many of the other liberal democracies in the world, one might be curious about where Aster's own sympathies lie. If that's not too mundane a question to ask. 'You're asking if I'm left or right,' he says. 'I'm left, but part of the project is about turning a mirror on myself and trying to see the humanity in people who hold beliefs that I see as being against mine, or trying to see the humanity in people we might abhor.' He sees a lot of himself in the young activists who call for the defunding of the police and bemoan the ethical ravages of white privilege. But the film holds them up to the same satirical scrutiny as anyone else. His aim throughout was to tell a story about 'a community of people who aren't really a community at all'. And its writing was informed by travelling around New Mexico, meeting and talking to a lot of people, some of whom were the polar opposite of Aster, ideologically speaking. 'Meeting a lot of these people really helped the movie get away from me in a very useful way,' he says. 'I'm trying to pull back as far as I can, and I'm trying to honour – at least to a point – as many voices in the cacophony as possible. The most uninteresting thing I could do would be to condescend to or totally dismiss the point of view of any of these people.'

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store