Preporučujemo da tokom naredne nedelje, pod OBAVEZNO pročitate tekst o izboru za „Pesmu Evrovizije“ koji je pisao Tyler Brule, jedan od najznačajnijih svetskih pop-kult novinara ( rođen u Kanadi od oca fudbalera, završio BBC školu novinarstva, pisao za Vanity Fair, osmislio i osnovao Wallpaper, potom započeo novi snobiš magazin Monocle, furao sa poznatim dizajnerom cipela Patrikom Koksom itd. )
Dakle, Brule poredi Evroviziju sa svetskim prvenstvom u fudbalu, a prevod bi vam samo smanjio ugođaj, pa zato u originalu to ide ovako:
Tyler Brûlé: Notes of high camp at Eurovision Song Contest
In exactly three weeks all eyes across Europe will be locked on Finland and Helsinki in particular. In living rooms from Cork to Ankara, Tromso to Tarifa, millions will have settled down with specially prepared buffets, elaborately designed score cards and refrigerators stocked with a favorite local brew and plenty of pinot grigio.
At first glance it has all the trappings of a major international football event with London pubs filled with clusters of supporters from Sweden, Poland and Spain. On closer examination there are perhaps too many gay men gathered around giant plasma screens and a far too complex scoring system to make this some kind of European cup final that will be pitting Italy against France.
Moreover, the absence of muscular corporate logos plastered all over the TV make this an event unlike any other broadcast spectacular in the world.
For the host country, the three-hour event can do more to raise or tarnish the national profile than a full six months of holding the revolving presidency of the European Union. For the winner, runners-up and losers, both ancient alliances and animosity will play a decisive factor in how the scoring goes and how certain nations fare.
To the best of my knowledge there's nothing quite like the Eurovision Song Contest for offering up a must-watch mix of good old state-funded entertainment and high camp.
For readers not familiar with this very particular and oddly compelling institution, there's nothing quite like it anywhere in the world. In fact, if your schedule is open in three weeks, arrange to either be in Europe so you can settle down to watch it or arrange for a massive satellite dish to be delivered so you can downlink it in all its full screen glory. Yes, you can probably pull it in over the Web, too, but this is a spectacle that demands as large a screen as possible.
The Eurovision Song Contest is an institution that predates American Idol, Pop Idol, The X-Factor and all of the other talent contests that have been syndicated, spun-off and repackaged in myriad formats. Indeed, one could argue that the European Broadcasting Union might have a case for a claim against some of the production companies that have clearly stolen more than a few elements to concoct their own talent formats.
Come May 12, performers from 24 European countries will take to the stage to belt out their tunes. It's important to stress the word performers, as anyone who's caught even five minutes of a Eurovision broadcast over the years can confidently claim that singing is not necessarily a key ingredient to the whole extravaganza - costumes, catchy dance routines and lip augmentation count for just as much. After the chosen nations have sung their songs, the whole thing is put to a vote and the battle lines are drawn.
No matter how dreadful Norway's performance, Denmark and Sweden will tend to offer maximum points. Likewise France will always support the one country that the rest of Europe has agreed should come bottom of the group. Last year Finland's heavy metal group Lordi picked up the top prize for its theme park costumes rather than its musical abilities, and as a result the country's state broadcaster YLE gets to pick up the bill for playing host at the ceremony this year.
With so many state broadcasters under extreme budgetary pressure either to slash spending or look for new revenue opportunities, forward thinking Finland still has a couple of weeks to come up with some new ways of broadening both the appeal and relevance of the event. Given that channels around the world are saturated with 19-year-olds desperate to become the next great Canadian, American, Brazilian or German pop sensation, Europe's state broadcasters have a unique chance to improve the fortunes of all by exploring entirely new avenues of celebrity.
Imagine how much happier Britons would be if the European Broadcasting Union launched the Eurovision Builders Contest and there was a televised event that pitted Swiss, Austrian, Dutch and English builders against one another? Faced with the prospect of enormous celebrity or being humiliated in hundreds of millions of households across Europe, Britain's tradesmen would have to improve their skills and an entire country would benefit as a result.
At the same time there could be a Eurovision Service Contest that could go some distance in improving table service in France and inflight service in Spain. Clearly the broader implications of taking the whole concept global could improve everything from education through to farming techniques if a nation's best efforts were put to the test against their neighbors, friends and foes. FIFA, soccer's worldwide governing body, and the International Olympic Committee, have created enormous war chests from selling rights to their various contests, the European Broadcasting Union, could do the same by taking their curious little slice of pop culture on the road.
( italic u tekstu - redakcijski )
Na fotografiji, Bruleov stajling dokazuje ono o čemu Monen piše u "Malom brevijaru snobizma" - "snob nije žrtva mode".