The arena is heavy with the scent of cheap drug store fragrance, candy-flavored lip gloss and pre-pubescent perspiration spiked with raging hormones and adrenaline-fueled hysteria. As their interchangeable, flavor-of-the-month idol hits the stage, his purple hat slightly askew (to match his ersatz hip hop beats), the crowd is consumed by a wave of mass insanity so violent and acute that it cuts through the otherwise potent preteen pulse like a detonated nuclear warhead. For the next 100 minutes or so, the crowd is fixated with rabid desire on the festering fad gadget known as Justin Bieber, and no critic is going to contain their over-emphasized obsession -- not a one.
Paramount, like the House of Mouse before with Miley "Hannah Montana" Cyrus and The Jonas Brothers, have decided to go concert documentary with the pageboyed bane of 2011 pop culture, and for the most part, Justin Bieber: Never Say Never, is a winning affair. The storyline is set up with mandatory manipulation (teen mother, early showcased talents, a meteoric mainstream rise) and, interspersed, we see songs from the pop icon's sold out Madison Square Garden show -- all in the pimply-girl-squeal specialness of 3D. Such a feigned closeness is liable to give "Bieleibers" fits, making the cinematic experience akin to an unconscious coming of age. All that's missing are the training bras.
There is no denying Bieber has talent of a type. He is shown playing jazz drums at ten and busking for change while still in grade school. He has the kind of weak-kneed tenor voice that make boys choirs drool and a wholesome "aw shucks" style that allows his budding sexuality to be completely safe for the world's weary daughters. He's no different than a Tiffany or a Leif Garrett or a Backstreet Boys, except that in the social network neutralized media of the 21st century, his star can skyrocket into the stratosphere after mere months in the limelight.
It's interesting to see the suggested reasons for his success (he was backed by Usher and the mega-conglomerate concerns of Island's LA Reid) compared to the local Canadian boy made good angle pimped to the viewer. Also, the familiar Christian-powered family values get a five-hanky workout, especially in a sequence where Bieber's grandfather breaks down after describing his beloved grandson moving to the States. Along the way, vocal coaches kvetch, managers and stylists cheerlead, and awkward looking children profess their undying affection for this prepackaged pop chart spectacle.
The sad thing is, Never Say Never illustrates that Bieber doesn't need all the flash and finery to make compelling music. During his initial radio station push for his first single "One Time", he provides numerous acoustic versions of the track that, when stripped of all the commercial overproduction, come across as real and very sincere. Similarly, the ballads offer a much better window into who Bieber, the future superstar, could be. He can hold a stage, and sans splashy guest stars (Boyz II Men, Ludacris, Jaden Smith), he is a natural entertainer.
Still, watching Never Say Never is akin to being an aging suburbanite circa 1964 and accidentally walking into a packed screening of A Hard Day's Night. The twisted panties of the braying fans feels like a purposeful rejection of everything your generation stands/stood for. Indeed, one is instantly aged by this film, forced to recognize that the trends that take up the vast majority of our youth's free time are rapidly racing towards a place to which we no longer have any access. The confusion comes from watching a clearly capable artist being marketed and morphed into something saleable,...and slight. Justin Bieber deserves better. His legions of admirers, however, deserve this calculated big screen infomercial.
Paramount, like the House of Mouse before with Miley "Hannah Montana" Cyrus and The Jonas Brothers, have decided to go concert documentary with the pageboyed bane of 2011 pop culture, and for the most part, Justin Bieber: Never Say Never, is a winning affair. The storyline is set up with mandatory manipulation (teen mother, early showcased talents, a meteoric mainstream rise) and, interspersed, we see songs from the pop icon's sold out Madison Square Garden show -- all in the pimply-girl-squeal specialness of 3D. Such a feigned closeness is liable to give "Bieleibers" fits, making the cinematic experience akin to an unconscious coming of age. All that's missing are the training bras.
There is no denying Bieber has talent of a type. He is shown playing jazz drums at ten and busking for change while still in grade school. He has the kind of weak-kneed tenor voice that make boys choirs drool and a wholesome "aw shucks" style that allows his budding sexuality to be completely safe for the world's weary daughters. He's no different than a Tiffany or a Leif Garrett or a Backstreet Boys, except that in the social network neutralized media of the 21st century, his star can skyrocket into the stratosphere after mere months in the limelight.
It's interesting to see the suggested reasons for his success (he was backed by Usher and the mega-conglomerate concerns of Island's LA Reid) compared to the local Canadian boy made good angle pimped to the viewer. Also, the familiar Christian-powered family values get a five-hanky workout, especially in a sequence where Bieber's grandfather breaks down after describing his beloved grandson moving to the States. Along the way, vocal coaches kvetch, managers and stylists cheerlead, and awkward looking children profess their undying affection for this prepackaged pop chart spectacle.
The sad thing is, Never Say Never illustrates that Bieber doesn't need all the flash and finery to make compelling music. During his initial radio station push for his first single "One Time", he provides numerous acoustic versions of the track that, when stripped of all the commercial overproduction, come across as real and very sincere. Similarly, the ballads offer a much better window into who Bieber, the future superstar, could be. He can hold a stage, and sans splashy guest stars (Boyz II Men, Ludacris, Jaden Smith), he is a natural entertainer.
Still, watching Never Say Never is akin to being an aging suburbanite circa 1964 and accidentally walking into a packed screening of A Hard Day's Night. The twisted panties of the braying fans feels like a purposeful rejection of everything your generation stands/stood for. Indeed, one is instantly aged by this film, forced to recognize that the trends that take up the vast majority of our youth's free time are rapidly racing towards a place to which we no longer have any access. The confusion comes from watching a clearly capable artist being marketed and morphed into something saleable,...and slight. Justin Bieber deserves better. His legions of admirers, however, deserve this calculated big screen infomercial.
