Meet the ‘invisible’ backstage team who make the song contest tick

Just thirty-five seconds. That’s all the time allotted for a changeover at Eurovision.

It’s thirty-five seconds to usher out one group of performers and situate the next set perfectly.

In those thirty-five seconds, everything must be in order: microphones need to be set, earpieces in place.

Props must be secured and arranged with precision.

While viewers at home watch introductory videos, known as postcards, a flurry of crew members swarms the stage to prepare for the upcoming act.

“We refer to it as the Formula 1 tyre change,” explains Richard van Rouwendaal, the friendly Dutch stage manager overseeing the operation.

“Each crew member has a specific role—one person handles a single light bulb or prop. There’s a defined path to follow; straying off course could lead to collisions.

It’s akin to ice skating.”

The stage crew begins rehearsing their “F1 tyre change” weeks prior to the contestants’ arrival.

Each participating country provides detailed staging plans, and Eurovision enlists stand-ins to simulate the acts (in Liverpool 2023, local performing arts school pupils played these roles), while stagehands work to reduce changeover times.

“We typically have about two weeks,” says Van Rouwendaal, usually based in Utrecht but in Basel for the contest.

“My team consists of around 13 Dutch members and 30 locals who excel at their roles here in Switzerland.

“In these two weeks, I have to determine who’s best suited for each task. Some are great sprinters, others are adept at lifting, while some are expert organizers for backstage. It’s a bit like playing Tetris—fitting everything perfectly into a compact space.”

Once a song ends, the team springs into action.

Beyond stagehands, there are individuals dedicated to lighting arrangements and pyrotechnics, along with ten cleaners who sweep and vacuum the stage between each performance.

“My cleaners are just as crucial as the stage crew. A clean stage is essential for the dancers; plus, if there’s an overhead shot of someone lying down, we don’t want shoeprints visible.”

Attention to detail is paramount. Backstage, each performer has a personalized microphone stand adjusted to the perfect height and angle to ensure every performance looks flawless on camera.

“Occasionally, delegations request artists to switch shoes for the grand final,” shares Van Rouwendaal. “But that could misalign the mic stand, creating issues!”

Unexpected footwear changes aren’t the most daunting challenge faced. During the 2022 contest in Turin, the stage stood 10m (33ft) above the backstage area.

As a result, moving heavy stage props—such as a mechanical bull—up a steep ramp between acts was taxing.

“We were exhausted every night,” he recalls. “This year is an improvement; we have an extra tent backstage for prop preparation.”

Props play a significant role in Eurovision. The tradition began at the second contest in 1957 when Germany’s Margot Hielscher performed part of her song Telefon, Telefon into (surprisingly) a telephone.

Over the years, staging has evolved dramatically. In 2014, Ukraine’s Mariya Yaremchuk trapped one of her dancers inside a giant hamster wheel, while Romania featured an actual cannon in their 2017 entry.

This year showcases disco balls, space hoppers, a whimsical food blender, a Swedish sauna, and, for the UK, a fallen chandelier.

“It’s quite the logistical endeavor to arrange all the props,” mentions Damaris Reist, deputy head of production for this year’s contest.

“Backstage, everything is organized in a circular fashion. Props enter from the left side of the stage, then exit through the right.

“Used props are pushed to the back of the line, and so on. It’s all about strategic planning.”

During the show, various concealed pathways known as “smuggling routes” are employed to move props into and out of sight, particularly when performances require fresh elements midway through.

Consider Sam Ryder’s 2022 performance for the UK in Italy. He stood solo on stage, belting out falsetto notes in a glittery jumpsuit, when suddenly, an electric guitar appeared out of nowhere and landed in his hands.

And who was responsible for that? Richard van Rouwendaal.

“I’m a magician,” he chuckles. “But really, it was a collaboration involving the camera director, the British delegation, and the stage crew.”

In other words, Richard dashed onto the stage with the guitar while the director panned to a wide shot, cleverly hiding his presence from viewers at home.

“It’s choreographed to the finest detail,” he notes. “We may not be invisible, but we must operate as if we are.”

What happens if something goes awry?

There are several clever tricks the audience will likely overlook, Van Rouwendaal notes.

If he communicates “stage not clear” into his headset, the director can buy additional time by focusing on the audience.

For more significant issues—like a broken camera or a fallen prop—they will transition to a presenter in the green room, providing a buffer of a couple of minutes.

In the control room, a tape of the dress rehearsal runs in sync with the live broadcast, giving directors the ability to switch to pre-recorded clips in cases of a stage invasion or a faulty microphone.

Minor visual interruptions won’t activate the backup tape; as Switzerland’s Zoë Më found out during Tuesday’s first semi-final.

Her performance faced a brief interruption when the feed from an on-stage camera froze, but producers simply cut to a wide shot until it was resolved. (Had it been in the finale, she would have been offered a redo.)

“Many precautions are taken to ensure every act is showcased at its best,” says Reist.

“There are team members well-versed in regulations, who rehearse potential scenarios and our responses to them.

“I’ll be alongside our head of production, and if any spontaneous action is required, that might very well be my role!”

It’s not surprising that orchestrating a live three-hour broadcast with countless moving components is incredibly nerve-wracking.

This year, measures have been implemented to safeguard the mental well-being of contestants and crew, such as closed rehearsals, extended breaks between shows, and a designated “disconnected zone” where cameras are prohibited.

Nonetheless, Reist shares that she has worked every weekend for the past two months, while Van Rouwendaal and his team frequently log 20-hour days.

The shifts are so lengthy that, back in 2008, Eurovision production legend Ola Melzig constructed a bunker under the stage, equipped with a sofa, a “sadly underused” PS3, and two espresso machines.

“I don’t have hidden luxuries akin to Ola; I’m not quite at that level!” chuckles Van Rouwendaal.

“But backstage, there’s a cozy spot for my crew. We enjoy stroopwafels, and just last week, for King’s Day in Holland, I treated everyone to pancakes.

“I strive to keep it fun. We sometimes step out for a drink and celebrate after a productive day.

“Yes, we have to maintain peak performance and be alert, but enjoying ourselves together is equally vital.”

And ideally, if everything goes according to plan, viewers won’t notice them at all this weekend.