Break out your pen, score charts and clear that throat to complain about "bloc-voting" as we are dragged along like a "puppet on a string" by director Jamie Jay Johnson as he takes us on a journey into the musical unknown of Junior Eurovision. It says a great deal about we English and our collective lack of interest in the post- millennium Eurovision contest not only that we wouldn't be able to name this years winner, but that there was a competition, of the same name, dedicated solely to children between the ages of 11-15, which 23 million people watched, and we knew nothing about it...until now. Johnson's "popumentary" is a light hearted, yet serious affair that asks us to challenge our preconceptions by getting us to peer through the glitz and gaiety of the competition and see the real people that take, perhaps, the biggest journey of their lives. "Sounds Like Teen Spirit" charts the stories of varying acts from across the European spectrum as they transcend from mere contenders in their homelands, to challenging for the 'perspex' cup that symbolises the true importance behind the competition, the prestige of being Eurovision champion. Johnson's style of filming is a very sympathetic affair as he treats his (not always) miniature subjects with a great deal of patience and compassion, always leaving the camera rolling long enough to pick up a gem of a quote or a momentary caricatural insight. He also has a penchant for picking up, not just insights in what is said, but what is around them with revealing pan-shots giving these characters a greater sense of humanity and that they are as vulnerable as every other "normal" child. But what helps catapult this into a league of its own as an engaging piece of work is the dry wit and timing that our guide has, capturing some unbelievably hysterical moments, even by filming something as ostensibly bland as fruit. Johnson's major skill is the ability to fuse the two fore-mentioned points and create a sense of empathy from the audience, drawing us closer in to a world which belies a sense of simplicity with its use of pyrotechnics and hosts with ludicrously over-the-top floral blasers. It would be easy to be dismissive of the talent prior to a screening of this documentary as know-it-all, self-indulgent, selfish little devils and madams sporting more make-up than an "Olay" factory but that would be ill-advised. The children followed are surprisingly well- developed and philosophical about their journeys and perhaps give a greater feel of world- weariness than we are used to viewing in children, making it all the more compelling. Each bring a differing approach to the contest and each give a bit to the audience in return. Giorgos, the 11 year old Cypriot with an English accent that wouldn't be out of place in Kensington has been the recipient of taunts that he's homosexual down to his singing and lack of interest in all things football. The way he retells his tale and skulks around the school quietly singing while addressing the camera, wary of onlookers, is a heart warming and saddening affair, how someone with undoubted talent and had won his countries regional selection process, could still be so ill-treated. His philosophy, admirably, is to not pay attention and perhaps one day thank them for their jeering as a means of inspiring him to follow his dream. On the other end of the spectrum are "Trüst", the Belgian entrants that pip the very first child interviewed into the finals, who have an almost worryingly laissez faire attitude to the competition but mask a greater appreciation of the competition. While they may come across to many as "dotish", their drummers' statement that "it doesn't matter where we finish so long as we play well...if we don't play well it could kill our music career" highlights an understanding of the music worlds workings and above all a determination that could go otherwise missed. Accompanying them are Marina from Bulgaria, a member of seven piece "Bon-Bon" that hopes her father may be watching and return to his abandoned family if she puts in a performance to remind him that he's "left something good behind"; Mari from Georgia who believes, and is right to do so, that a stellar turn out of her traditional folk-dance mash up, will catapult her country into having a greater say in European affairs; and a whole host of nonsensical acts involving bright orange jackets, worryingly under-dressed "librarians" and an act solely based on the premise of "My Big Fat Greek Wedding"...no prizes in guessing their nationality.There are many references through this "popumentary" to the history of the European people and the continual battles and battlefields that we have found ourselves engaging in over the countless centuries. From the Crusades through to the Crimean there has been a history of warfare which Johnson now believes has manifested itself in the forms of the respective Eurovision competitions, noting light heartedly that there have been no European wars since the introduction of the "kids" event. While his comments are somewhat tongue-in-cheek there is an element of seriousness to his claim and perhaps leads itself into a serious commentary on current European politics and social-interaction than the mere quip would entail. Regardless, of the intent, "Sounds Like Teen Spirit" will warm even the most anti-miniature flag wavers' heart by showing these children as simply that, and not as shrunken prima donna's inflating their own sense of self importance. It is a skillfully crafted piece of cinema that manages to turn the oddest subject matter into a meaningful voyage of entertainment and self discovery. As Giorgos states in the last moments "I have had such a fun time here, but now I think someone else should have that fun" proving that many here are wise beyond their years. These truly are "Rock N Roll Kids".

So, hands up those who'd even heard of Junior Eurovision, "Europe's best-kept secret", until now? Unless you're the sort of brilliant maniac who 'does Eurovision' every year, along with your own wall charts, score cards and specially-prepared Eurosnacks, probably not. Let us not delay the introductions any further.Cuter than Anvil!, harder hitting than Spellbound, this hilarious, charming and unflinching 'Popumentary' follows a handful of hopefuls from Sweden to Belarus, competing "for Perspex" (as debut feature director Johnson's indulgently amused, though never patronizing, voice-over has it) at the fifth Junior Eurovision Song Contest in Rotterdam 2007.Joyously, there's not a pushy parent in sight. From the precocious to the plain misguided (just like the grown-up version), these finalists from 17 countries aren't mere puppets on a string but genuinely appear to be doing it for themselves. Children like 11-year-old Giorgos, a George Michael Mini-Me from Cyprus, resilient enough to survive his lousy song, tough enough to weather his classmates calling him gay because he loves singing, not football. "One day", he reflects, "I will thank them. I wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for what they did to me." They've composed their own songs too, albeit the usual Eurogum; there's nothing here to equal the towering greatness of Vicky's 'L'Amour Est Bleu' (an unjustified 4th place for Luxembourg in 1967) or Teach-In's 1975 winner 'Ding-A-Dong'. But, you know, they're *kids*, between the ages of 10 and 15 - even if they don't think they really are anymore.At the world weary age of fifteen and a head taller than most, the Belgian quartet Trust give the impression they couldn't give a stack of waffles whether they get 200 points or nul points, breezing through the rough and ready riot of bangles and braces with the kind of cool detachment that only 15-year-olds can get away with. Will they be dancing on the night? "Isn't it clear...?" shrug the Scott Walker lookalikes wryly, "We are boys?" Trust's big thing is to scatter Basmati rice over their tom-toms so that it all flies off dramatically in a shower of, well, rice. Just the sort of stuff to help their set go with a Boom Bang-A-Bang. But Trust may have already met their Waterloo during rehearsals. As drummer Laurens murmurs in one of the film's many Spinal Tap moments, "I think there's a problem with the rice..." You really get the impression that Johnson could have swung his lenses in any direction and struck gold. Or children. Because children, of course, are funny by default. They are like drunk adults, uninhibited. So when they make like adults, it's even funnier - and sometimes disturbing. If Russia's entry is pure Little Miss Sunshine, 11-year-old Ilona from Ukraine has got everyone in a lather with her "sexy librarian" costume. There's Britney, there's Tatu, and then there's Ilona. As one of the judges says, "We have a little problem with her dress"- which pulls off, a la Bucks Fizz. We aren't told whether this was Ilona's sartorial decision or an elder's, but it's pretty worrying in either case. Diggi-loo, diggi-don't.Meanwhile, some special, and especially memorable form of corporal punishment should be meted out to whoever dreamt up Belgium's De Dalton Sisters, God bless them; four scary clones in stripy leggings and bunches, whose truly toxic theme song ("We are the Dalton sisters, the Dalton sisters!!") will nest in your head for days like a plague of insatiable nits.But like Wogan with a bad case of the huffs, Sounds Like Teen Spirit is by no means a laugh a second. Representing Bulgaria, Bon-Bon's 14-year-old singer-songwriter Marina speaks Beverly Hills-English, is obsessed with Buffy (the Vampire Slayer, not Sainte-Marie) - and hopes that if she wins the contest, her estranged dad "might come back, thinking he's left something good behind. If he's watching, that means he cares." And while you expect tears at Junior Eurovision, what you don't anticipate is sweat. It's rare to see people perspiring on film, even in documentaries, because it doesn't look good. And to see children sweating is almost unthinkable. So when the camera catches those telltale rivulets on Giorgos' forehead mid-power ballad, it gives you a bit of a jolt.This mix of the coarse and the kitsch, the grit in the glitter, lies at the heart of the film, a continent away from North America's overly contrived docusoaps. As Johnson sees it, Eurovision is simply another, albeit bloodless, manifestation of centuries of warfare between European factions, with the previous century claiming the highest body count since records began.It is made abundantly clear that for some of those taking part, this is a once in a lifetime chance to draw the world's cameras, and perhaps a little peace, to their neglected, conflict-scarred homelands, Europe's shameful little secrets. As tiny, 13-year-old song-belter Mariam says, "If we are in the top five, people will know Georgia a bit more". Such faith in the leaders of the G20 is touching and appalling. And although all of the contestants are worth rooting for, Mariam, the impoverished war refugee, is the one you feel who needs your vote the most. Heartbreakingly, of course, there can be only one.If you loathe Eurovision and all it stands for, you'll already be making your mind up about watching this. But, whether you're a friend or foe of the most watched non-sporting event on planet Earth, whether you're "wetting yourself with excitement!" as our Rotterdam host claims to be, or remaining defiantly dry, it is physically impossible to emerge from this film wearing anything other than a smile as big as an upside-down rainbow. Congratulations - and jubilations!