Brits think Eurovision is all politics

YouGov’s EuroTrack survey released today reveals that Brits are most cynical about the Eurovision Song Contest.

As if our MPs squabbling over Britain’s EU membership wasn’t enough, a poll has revealed that Brits are the most cynical about the Eurovision Song Contest.

A new survey released just a day before the 2013 Eurovision Song Contest final in Sweden, a pan-European YouGov poll has shown that Brits are most likely to say that some countries suffer unfairly from political voting, and don't have any real chance of winning the annual talent contest.

YouGov’s EuroTrack survey, which tracks public opinion in Britain, Germany, France, Denmark, Sweden, Finland and Norway, found that a monstrous 75% of Brits believe some countries don’t have a proper chance of winning Eurovision because of political voting by other competing nations.

Britain has won five times since the competition began in 1956, but has done particularly poorly since 1999 when the rule that songs must be performed in one of the official languages of the participating country was abandoned. It has only finished in the top ten twice since 1999, and last year’s entry, musical veteran Engelbert Humperdinck, ended second last in 25th place.

In the past it has been suggested that voters were reluctant to vote for Britain following the start of the war in Iraq in 2003. Indeed that very same year, Britain’s entry of male-female duo Jemini received a record 0 points. The pair admitted they had sung off-key but claimed they were unable to hear the backing track due to a technical fault. Performer Chris also claimed Terry Wogan had warned them before the contest that they would not get any points due to the Iraq War.

It is worth noting, however, that while the number of competing nations has increased over the years, the probability of Britain winning has naturally decreased. There were only seven countries represented when the competition started and in recent years there have been 26. Britain’s entry this year is veteran Welsh singer Bonnie Tyler, who will perform ‘Believe in Me’ tomorrow night at the final held in Malmö, Sweden.

Does Eurovision really unite Europe?

The Eurovision Song Contest was started after World War II with the aim of bringing European countries closer together around a programme of fun, light entertainment.

However, the YouGov EuroTrack survey shows that all of the countries surveyed, and especially Britain, are rather skeptical about Eurovision’s capacity to unite. The Swedes are most likely to see Eurovision as a unifying force, with a third (33%) saying it helps bring Europe closer together, whilst only 14% of Brits felt the same.

Commenting on the EuroTrack findings, YouGov Director of Political and Social Research Joe Twyman said: “We haven’t won Eurovision since 1997, and a more than decade-long losing streak has obviously had an impact on how people in Britain feel about it. While all of the countries we surveyed have some degree of cynicism about Eurovision, it’s interesting that the Swedes – who won last year – are most likely to say it helps bring Europe together. I think it’s reasonable to assume that were Bonnie Tyler to win, or even finish strongly, Brits might start to feel just a little more enthusiastic about Eurovision.”

Last year's Eurovision winner Loreen of Sweden. Does the contest really bring Europe together? (Getty Images)
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The filmmaker forcing the British Board of Film Classification to watch Paint Drying for hours on end

The film does what it says on the tin.

Would you watch paint dry for several hours? If you work for the British Board of Film Classification (BBFC), you might not have much choice in the matter. As a protest against problems he sees within the organisation, British filmmaker and journalist Charlie Lyne has launched a Kickstarter to send the BBFC a film he’s made called Paint Drying. It does what it says on the tin: the film is a single, unbroken shot lasting several hours (its length is determined by the amount of money raised) of white paint slowly drying on a brick wall. Once Lyne has paid the fee, the board are obliged to watch it.

“I’ve been fascinated by the BBFC – and censorship in general – for ages, but it was only when I went to a BBFC open day earlier this year that I felt properly frustrated by the whole thing,” Lyne told me. “There was a lot of discussion that day about individual decisions the board had made, and whether they were correct, but no discussions whatsoever about whether the BBFC should have the kind of power it has in the first place.”

The 2003 Licencing Act imposes the following rules on cinemas in the UK: cinemas need licenses to screen films, which are granted by local authorities to the cinemas in their area. These licences include a condition requiring the admission of children to any film to normally be restricted in accordance with BBFC age ratings. This means that in order to be shown easily in cinemas across the country, films need an age rating certificate from the BBFC. This is where, for Lyne, problems begin: a certificate costs around £1,000 for a feature film of average length, which, he says, “can prove prohibitively expensive” for many independent filmmakers.

It’s a tricky point, because even Lyne acknowledges on his blog that “this is actually a very reasonable fee for the services rendered”. The BBFC pointed out to me that its income is “derived solely from the fees it charges for its services”. So is the main issue the cost, or the role he feels the BBFC play in censorship? The Kickstarter page points out that the BBFC's origins are hardly liberal on that front:

The British Board of Film Classification (previously known as the British Board of Film Censors) was established in 1912 to ensure films remained free of 'indecorous dancing', 'references to controversial politics' and 'men and women in bed together', amongst other perceived indiscretions. 

Today, it continues to censor and in some cases ban films, while UK law ensures that, in effect, a film cannot be released in British cinemas without a BBFC certificate.

It might be true “in effect”, but this is not a legal fact. The 2003 Licensing Act states, “in particular circumstances, the local authority can place their own restrictions on a film. Film distributors can always ask a local authority for a certificate for a film banned by the BBFC, or a local category for a film that the BBFC has not classified.” The BBFC point out that “film makers wishing to show their films at cinemas in the UK without a BBFC certificate may do so with permission from the local authority for the area in which the cinema is located.” There you have it – the BBFC does not have the absolute final word on what can be shown at your local Odeon.

While the BBFC cannot officially stop cinemas from showing films, they can refuse to categorise them in any category: something Lyne says mostly happens with “quite extreme horror films and pornography, especially feminist pornography made by people like Petra Joy and Pandora Blake, but it could just as easily be your favourite movie, or mine.” This makes large-scale release particularly difficult, as each individiual local authority would have to take the time and resources to overrule the decision. This means that, to get screened easily in cinemas, a film essentially needs a BBFC-approved rating. Lyne adds, “I think films should also be allowed to be released unrated, as they are in the US, so that independent filmmakers with no money and producers of niche, extreme content aren’t at the mercy of such an expensive, censorial system.”

Does he think Paint Drying can make that a possibility? “I realise this one small project isn’t going to completely revolutionise British film censorship or anything, but I hope it at least gets people debating the issue. The BBFC has been going for a hundred years, so it’s got tradition on its side, but I think it's important to remember how outraged we’d all be if an organisation came along tomorrow and wanted to censor literature, or music. There's no reason film should be any different.”

Anna Leszkiewicz is a pop culture writer at the New Statesman.