From Valletta to Vladivostok: Malta’s Eurovision fans eye Russia’s revived Intervision contest

**Glitter and Soviet nostalgia: Russia revives Eurovision rival contest**

While Valletta’s Eurovision village was still buzzing from this year’s Liverpool spectacular, Moscow quietly dropped a glitter bomb of its own: the Intervision Song Contest is back, baby – and Malta’s vintage euro-philes are feeling all the feels.

For anyone under 40, Intervision sounds like a dodgy streaming service. Yet between 1977 and 1980 it was the Eastern Bloc’s answer to Eurovision, staged in the Polish resort of Sopot and beamed from Vladivostok to Havana. Think tacky disco, state-approved ballads and the occasional Finnish entry smuggled in as “neutral” entertainment. When the Wall fell, Intervision fell with it. Now Kremlin broadcaster VGTRK has announced a 2025 reboot, promising “a celebration of traditional values” and a 20-nation line-up heavy on Russia’s current allies.

Cue flashbacks in Malta’s living rooms. “I was 14 when Intervision ended,” chuckles 57-year-old Ħamrun collector Marco Cassar, sliding a dusty VHS labelled “Sopot ’79” into an ancient recorder. On screen, Polish diva Czesław Niemen croons in front of a giant red star. “We picked this up on Italian TV because RAI used to relay the signal for laughs. My friends and I taped it thinking it was hilarious. Today it’s pure nostalgia – even if the politics were grim.”

Cassar is part of a tiny but devoted circle of local “Inter-nuts” who meet monthly at the Café Jubilee in Valletta to trade memorabilia and bootlegs. The group’s WhatsApp exploded minutes after VGTRK’s press conference. “Half of us are thrilled, half are horrified,” says president Maria Pace, 48, from Sliema. “On the one hand it’s camp history. On the other, it’s blatant soft power in a war year.” Pace, who owns what is probably Malta’s only complete collection of Intervision vinyl, plans to screen the 2025 final at the University of Malta’s Sir Temi Zammit Hall – “with context panels, because memory without critique is just propaganda”.

State broadcaster PBS has so far stayed diplomatically silent, but insiders say Malta will not be rushing to buy in. “We barely afford Eurovision,” one senior producer sighs. “And politically, it’s a minefield.” Instead, local attention is shifting to the cultural after-shock. Vintage Soviet synthesizers are suddenly hip with Valletta DJs; a pop-up “Intervision Karaoke” night at Strait Street bar Cheeky Monkey sold out in two hours last weekend, with patrons belting out 1978 Soviet winner “Darogoi dlimoy” in questionable Russian.

Tourism operators smell opportunity. Natalie Bugeja, who runs boutique agency RedStar Getaways, is already sketching a “Sopot Retro Weekend” package for autumn 2024: direct flights to Gdańsk, coach to the Polish coast, Cold-War-era hotel, and a private tour of the forested Intervision amphitheatre. “Maltese travellers love quirky nostalgia,” she says. “Combine that with cheap Polish zloty and you have a winner.”

Not everyone is amused. “Glorifying Soviet pop is like putting glitter on oppression,” argues history lecturer Dr. Antoine Farrugia. “Intervision wasn’t just cheesy – it whitewashed regimes that shot dissidents.” Farrugia plans a counter-exhibition at Spazju Kreattiv next spring juxtaposing Intervision glitter with archive footage of 1980s bread queues and Baltic independence protests. “Let the music play, but let’s remember the cost,” he says.

Back at Café Jubilee, Marco Cassar queues up another tape: 1980 winners, the Soviet all-girl group Siabry, in matching peasant dresses. “We Maltese know better than most how culture can transcend borders,” he smiles, nodding to the bar’s Eurovision 2023 wall calendar. “But we also know when a song is covering up a tank. Enjoy the glitter, keep your eyes open.”

As 2025 approaches, one thing is certain: whether you watch for the camp or the cautionary tale, Intervision’s resurrection will be impossible to ignore – even from our little rock in the middle of the Med.