Final analyses to the Cezar-chapter.
2013 was the year Cesar Ouatu went from being a relatively unknown countertenor in Italy, to becoming a worldwide phenomenon rockstar Hero of Romania, carrying the entire nation on his shoulders. Rarely had someone generated so much publicity, created so much worldwide fuzz, speculations and rumors from all over Europe. It's my Life was doomed from the start. Or was it?
The "vampire from Transylvania", the "modern day Klaus Nomi", the "guy without balls" split the camp of Eurovision into two separate villages. Either you absolutely hated his performance, his song and everything he stood for, OR you absolutely enjoyed every piece of him. To some he became a symbol of "everything that is wrong with Eurovision" - spectacle and weirdness with chock value replacing substance. No matter what, everyone seemed to have an opinion about Cezar.
It's not hard to see why. The serious bearded "Clearasil" look resembling a terrible late George Michael clone, the operatic mess with a dub-step-break, dance beats and Cezar's high-pitched voice, his shabby English with an unmistakable Romanian accent, the unbelievably cheesy lyrics and the clothes that would make any sane New Romantican grasp endlessly for air; Cezar in a dress filled with gigantic rhinestones, his flashed and clean-shaved breast and a huge crucifix hanging around his neck and a backslick - Cezar resembled a slick, rich behemoth, a pornstar of grandeur. All this culminating in a hilariously campy performance where the highlights appeared to be the pink lampoons hanging from the ceiling, Cezar sporting a five'o'clock shadow and in a dress. In spite of this, The Romanian Knight was destined to make an impact, he was trapped, could not escape the situation once he got there. He was locked into a persona he couldn't release himself from.
Overnight, Cezar became somewhat of an overnight sensation. People were speculating whether he was dracula or Klaus Nomi reincarnated. His balls were another subject of investigation. Cezar had become a one-man army, to bring peace and justice to the hypocritical, condescending contest (pissing off Wogan in the process). Instead of Spiders from Mars, we had Dracula from Transylvania, ready to bite and slaughter his opponents. He would do this with his incredible voice, as Cezar was by far, the greatest singer of the entire contest. But it was also a target of ridicule. Cezar would sing most of the song in falsetto. From a Månz sweatshirt to a dress, could he pull it off?
Cezar qualified from the semifinals somewhat unexpectedly. Both his enemies and comrades got fuel on their respective fire. Cezar was no longer ONLY a national hero, a weirdo or a target of ridicule - He was an enemy, an opponent that threatens to even WIN Eurovision! Romania couldn't hold back the Russians, but they could perhaps grab a hold of Europa. And they had Dracula at their disposal.
He didn't win. He ended up on top of Robin Stjernberg, (whom some saw as a potential winner) a comfortable 13th place. Let the numbers speak for themselves... 13. Bad luck or not, it was a heroic attempt.
Cezar used the momentum to release a new album and making music with Vangelis and Andrea Bocelli and made some humiliating performances in TV, forced to play games to gain promotion. His luck ended here. He separated from his wife and his album didn't sold well enough to pull off that break he was aiming at. He got the momentum then lost it immediately. People missed the strange Cezar, whom he had so tried so hard to escape the clutches from. He was trapped in this persona and when he escaped the Dracula-role, his fans were escaping him. He had lost a crucial battle after Eurovision. Cezar went back to Opera and decided to stay there. Dracula was still dead and so was Klaus Nomi.
Dracula out. Beardwurst in.
That's life. It's a bit and sometimes you die.