The Bieber epidemic that seems to have gripped the world as effectually as a medieval plague is everywhere, so it was inevitable that our mainstream cinema screens would not be spared their own bout of tween fever. Bombarding our screens in 3D, we can all join together and squeal in (attempts at) pre-pubescent joy as a larger-than-life version of Bieber looks out of the screen and points at us mid-song. It’s like being on stage with him! Joy! (*scoff*)
Putting that sarcastic scoff aside, the truth of the matter is that Never Say Never is not quite as laughable as the various naysayers will have expected it to be, and as the likelihood of cynics going within five miles of a screening are remarkably low, it should delight the screaming girl-children that flock to see it. However, any biopic of someone aged 16 is of course ridiculous and clearly serves only on£ purpo$e. But while this concert movie-slash-documentary goes some way towards explaining the phenomenon of Bieber Fever, we get nowhere nearer to understanding Bieber the boy.
The concert parts of the film will be as intoxicating for a Bieber fan as heroin was to Renton. They are slathered on to the big screen in sumptuous 3D and colour, displaying various performances with many special guest stars. The equally-nauseating Miley Cyrus makes an appearance, as does Usher in all his pop-locking glory and we are also treated to the croonings of Boyz II Men and Sean Kingston. The other parts are an amalgamation of home videos, YouTube clips and back-stage shenanigans.
One strange point that has to be made about NSN is that despite the fact that this is a film revolving around the life of Justin Bieber, not once do we actually have any sort of interview with the singer or the chance to delve into how he feels about the furore that surrounds him. It is a master class in how to promote while also protect a celebrity product; the audience watches 105 minutes of this film and feel as if they have somehow got to know the star, in reality we get nowhere near the personality of the lad. Instead we have countless interviews with the people that surround him; his mum, (who gives eye-rolling moments of pure Americana cheese), his grandparents and the touring management that all form the ‘functioning dysfunctional’ Bieber family.
One of the members of this awful crowd is the stylist; if the Oscars suddenly decided to add in ‘The Biggest Douche Bag’ category to their annual shindig, then he would be rightly stood at the podium accepting the award in a few weeks time. He seems to froth through a tirade of hideous yelps and impressions in some strange attempt to be ‘down’ with the Bieber and therefore the kids, and the worst thing is that Bieber seems to love the man. If that was me I’d be using my star power to invest in some cyanide.