KIEV, Ukraine — Eurovision just got serious.

The musical competition — known for its excessive bonhomie and costumes exploring the outer limits of good taste — is threatened by discord between this year's host Ukraine and the contest's governing body, the European Broadcasting Union (EBU).

Ukraine’s security services issued a travel ban last month to Yulia Samoylova, Russia’s entry. Samoylova performed in Crimea in 2015 — which the Kremlin has annexed from Ukraine — but didn’t apply for special permission from Kiev as Ukrainian law requires.

EBU head Ingrid Deltenre, however, insisted Samoylova should be allowed to travel to Ukraine for the contest since, she said, the Russian singer posed “no security risk.”

“We are increasingly frustrated, in fact angry, that this year’s competition is being used as a tool in the ongoing confrontation between the Russian Federation and Ukraine” — EBU head Ingrid Deltenre

“We are increasingly frustrated, in fact angry, that this year’s competition is being used as a tool in the ongoing confrontation between the Russian Federation and Ukraine,” she wrote to Ukrainian Prime Minister Volodymyr Groysman.

Ukraine’s actions, she said, could have a “very big negative impact on Ukraine’s international reputation as a modern, democratic European nation.” And she warned that some participants could, as a result, pull out of this year’s final, which begins May 9.

“Please be aware that should we not be able to find an agreeable solution to this matter, it will without a doubt place the future participation of Ukraine in the Eurovision Song Contest under threat,” she said.

Officials at Ukraine’s public broadcaster responded with a letter that sounded more like a challenge to a fight than an attempt to find a peaceful solution. In it, they wrote that EBU’s statements might be construed as interference in Ukraine’s internal affairs. They also warned the Europeans to “avoid” making direct threats of expulsion from future contests, which the Ukrainians said they “especially noticed.”

“We urge Ms. Deltenre and ... EBU in general to respect the sovereignty of Ukraine, to refrain from making EBU an instrument of amplification of extraneous political manipulations,” the state broadcaster said.

Politics by other means

That the platform for this political brinkmanship is a cultural event that launched the careers of ABBA and Celine Dion should really not come as a surprise. For many people, the Eurovision Song Contest is much more than a musical competition.

To the uninitiated, a bit of explanation: Eurovision is the world’s largest songfest, annually drawing more than 200 million viewers, twice the amount of the Super Bowl.

It embraces a universe all its own, with fan clubs and enthusiastic national contingents, who follow their countries’ competitors with all the passion of the most rabid football supporters. Participants also hail from some clearly un-European countries like Azerbaijan, Israel and Australia, since all EBU member states can participate.

The songs are Europop writ large: full of special effects, rousing crescendos, often nonsensical lyrics — and largely forgettable melodies. And then there are the singers and groups themselves: some are merely flamboyant, others are beyond outré. Still others — like Moldova’s 2011 entry, “Zdob Si Zdub,” which featured men in towering pointed wool hats and a woman dressed as a what appeared to be a fairy on a unicycle — have to be seen to be believed.

“The Eurovision Song Contest is kindly, diverting, flamboyant, efficiently run, and surprisingly tough. In fact, there is only one thing wrong with it. The music,” wrote Anthony Lane in a New Yorker profile of the contest, “Only Mr. God Knows Why.”

Although Eurovision presents itself as an alternative to — if not a victory over — the Continent’s history of strife and division, politics have always lurked just below the surface. Many of these rifts become visible during the final voting process, which is partly conducted among the national populations: traditional linguistic, religious and political groupings vote for each other, while adversaries like Azerbaijan and Armenia steadfastly reject any opportunity to bury the hatchet.

Last year’s Eurovision was perhaps the most politicized of all, with Crimea again at the center of attention. Ukraine’s representative was a dark-eyed diva with the range of an opera singer named Jamala.

Her somber composition, “1944,” stood out, to say the least, among the manically happy entries that typically populate the competition: It told of Stalin's deportation of her family and more than 200,000 Tatars from Crimea to Central Asia during World War II.

“You think you are gods/but everyone dies,” she sang.

Russian officials objected that the song was a thinly veiled musical attack on the Kremlin — which also supports anti-Kiev separatists in eastern Ukraine. The Eurovision organizers demurred, saying the song was “historical” and not “political.” Jamala went on to win, beating out Russia’s entry, and earning Ukraine the right to host this year’s final.

Showdown in Kiev

One year later, the political controversy threatens to become even deeper. Russian officials complained that Jamala’s victory was evidence of a rigged vote, claimed that Russian fans would be under threat in Kiev and spoke of possibly boycotting the contest.

At the last minute though, they selected Samoylova, a previous runner-up on Russia’s version of the “X Factor” TV show, who has been confined to a wheelchair since childhood. On March 22, Ukrainian officials announced their ban on her entering Ukraine.

“Another outrageous, cynical and inhumane act by the Kiev authorities” — Grigory Karasin, Russia’s deputy foreign minister

Moscow’s condemnation was swift. “Another outrageous, cynical and inhumane act by the Kiev authorities,” Grigory Karasin, Russia’s deputy foreign minister, said.

Samoylova echoed the outrage, asking how the Ukrainians could see “some kind of threat in a little girl like me.”

EBU officials tried to thread the needle, offering the option of her performing via satellite from Moscow but Russia’s state broadcaster rejected this as a non-starter.

However, some observers saw a calculated campaign by the Russians. “[Moscow] chose a disabled person as Russia’s Eurovision entrant in the full knowledge that Ukraine would be compelled to ban her and, thus, sully its own international reputation,” wrote Ukrainian political scientist Anton Shekhovtsov.

“The Kremlin presented Ukraine with two options, both of which were mousetraps,” he added. “Were Ukraine to allow Samoylova to enter the country, it would violate its own law and tacitly recognize the ‘Russian status’ of Crimea.”

“Were Ukraine to stick to the rule of law and ban her — and this is what happened — it would indirectly tarnish its image as a country that adheres to European values.”

The show will go on

All this takes place against a backdrop of conflicts in Ukraine itself over the preparations for the final, which is just weeks away.

In February, 21 members of the Ukrainian organizing committee resigned, complaining that their work was being blocked and that the entire process lacked transparency.

Few doubt that the final will be less than a rousing organizational success.

Eurovision was supposed to be Kiev’s moment to unveil the reformed, Euro-centric country that emerged from the pro-Western revolution three years ago.

Western officials say, however, that although Ukraine has succeeded in establishing new, reform-minded institutions, these are falling under the control of people who continue to work against political change.

“It’s so frustrating — I see the old guys coming back,” said one European diplomat, speaking on condition of anonymity. “We create these new bodies, and then they’re hijacked by the old guard.”

Some significant reforms have taken root, to be sure, and the EU looks set to grant Ukrainians the right to travel to Europe without a visa — a milestone in Kiev’s desire to draw closer to Europe.

But in other key areas, reforms are either moving at a snail’s pace or have stalled completely — and some say that Eurovision is a case in point.

Few doubt that the final will be less than a rousing organizational success. Still, observers worry that the run-up is following a familiar Ukrainian path: mismanagement, insider deals and possible cost overruns.

The head of the Eurovision organizing committee, Pavlo Hrytsak, in interviews has dismissed fears that the contest is facing any difficulties. Everything will be ready by the end of the month, and within budget, he says.

Others harbor concerns, however.

Eurovision "is a litmus test for Ukraine, and so far, I see two areas where we’re on the road to failure,” the diplomat said. “The price tag for the contest — that ‘it must take place at any cost’ — and the reputational damage to Ukraine.”