Screamtime: Justin Bieber
EVER WONDERED what the Nuremberg Rallies might have looked like with glow sticks and backpacks? Oh boy, this is the movie for you.
A 10-day documentary account of Justin Bieber’s preparations for a sell-out gig at New York’s Madison Square Gardens, Jon Chu’s tour diary is every bit as slick, giddy and refined as its subject matter: dad breaks down watching Justin perform, cheery well-wishers include Snoop, the Obamas and David Beckham; backstage group prayers are a frequent sight.
As the big day looms, Master Bieber’s back-up team, a vast posse of groomers, managers, and coaches, attempt to whip up some drama around the wunderkind’s vocal cords. We are, despite their best efforts, never unduly concerned as to the outcome, although the incident does provide a tantalising glimpse of mucus on the great one’s vocal cords.
Pay attention to the snot: it’s as close as we ever get to a “warts and all” moment. The film, though professionally assembled, never really probes much further than the greatly feted haircut, the cutsey-pie warble and the purple boxer boots.
The “real” Justin, as Usher, LA Reid and the various moguls pulling the strings are keen to point out, is not a Disney moppet or Nickelodeon nubile. He is a grassroots, YouTube phenomenon, a human sneezing panda; the nasally challenged ursine pointedly pops up in the opening section.
A cynic might well shrug and ask how come such studio-owned “tween” products as Miley Cyrus and Jaden Smith wound up on this ballsy, independent tour. A cynic might also note, that in common with these “mainstream” rivals, Team Bieber is all about the paradoxical snake oil of using sex to sell chastity.
Then again, a cynic has no business being at Never Say Never. Though unlikely to be mistaken for A Hard Day’s Night, the film has plenty of merit as a screamalong. Reluctant punters, perhaps ill-disposed to swooning at the sight of baby Bieber in a ski-suit, will still find something moving about the sight of Justin’s army, an irregular troop of scrawny legs, puppy fat and train-track braces in their poignantly hand-painted “Mrs Bieber” T-shirts.
This is their film and their sneezing panda and they're entitled to it. After all, a billion YouTube users can't be wrong, now can they? TARA BRADY
