Many popular musicians have a Berserker-like confidence, and it is in this spirit that the comedy troupe the Lonely Island go for broke and set their sights high. No musical mockumentary can avoid comparisons to This Is Spinal Tap, so you may as well go for a near carbon copy. The gamble pays off.
At first, Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping threatens to be nothing more than an extended Saturday Night Live-style sketch, but co-writer and star Andy Samberg and his collaborators Akiva Schaffer and Jorma Taccone understood their Justin Bieber parody needed more than cheap shots. There’s some genuine entertainment industry satire in this enjoyable, dopey movie and occasional forays into absurdism aimed at a part of the brain that isn’t impressed with TMZ. (Although Will Arnett’s impersonation of the lead TMZ dingus is a solid recurring gag.) Mocking the moronic mores of bratty boy bands is shooting fish in a barrel. The Lonely Island has the wherewithal to bring other means of destruction into the mix.
Samberg, our lovable lead dunce, is Connor Friel (AKA Connor4real) and he’s about to release his second solo album. His first one was a major hit, but he was still riding off his association with lyricist Lawrence (Schaffer) and DJ Owen (Taccone). The three were late-90s sensations in a group called the Style Boyz, and their fashions and dance moves ought to get chuckles.
The bulk of Popstar is spent watching Connor’s career and life go into free fall, from his asinine sponsorship with a household appliance brand (new tracks are uploaded to your refrigerator) to the stupidity of his latest material. This is a bit of a story disconnect, as the new Connor4real songs aren’t any less idiotic than the ones that were beloved by the stream of celebrity talking heads (Questlove, Mariah Carey, Simon Cowell). But these stage sequences aren’t really about making sense. When the Lonely Island are doing their thing (see Dick in a Box, Jizz in My Pants, or any of their other puerile anthems), there’s an undeniable magic: their preposterous lyrics are indistinguishable from the style they’re lampooning. If you didn’t speak English, Spinal Tap’s Stonehenge could certainly pass for Jethro Tull and Tonight I’m Gonna Rock You Tonight could be Kiss. Connor4real’s tunes’ rap-infused pop sounds like the stuff I hear blasting out of cars today. Only the topics are slightly more ridiculous.
Connor4real’s road to redemption is obvious from the first scenes. It means ditching his entourage and respecting Owen, who stayed part of his “band” (meaning he presses play on an iPod) while wearing an absurd Daft Punk-via-Galactus helmet, and reconnecting with Lawrence, who has grown a beard and now works on a farm in Colorado. Along the way are a slew of cameos from comedians and musicians, and some decent supporting turns from Tim Meadows as Connor4real’s beleaguered manager and Chris Redd as a maniacal underground hip-hop star whose opening act starts overshadowing the marquee player.
There are laughs found in almost every scene, though not many big ones. There’s also the problem that no amount of parody can top the real thing: even on peak form, the Lonely Island could never top the aphasia-like poetry of Kanye West’s declaration to run for president. Then there are the potential pitfalls faced by any movie so loaded with celebrity guests. Jimmy Fallon’s appearance doesn’t poke fun at his neo-vaudeville antics, but encourages them. It’s a cringeworthy moment that stops the film dead in its tracks, but is, luckily, the exception. (Ringo Starr only has a few lines, but he nails them, as does DJ Khaled.) Seeing so many real-life mainstream entertainers is a reminder of just how unfunny this movie could have been. Like most of Top 40 radio, Popstar may not linger for too long, but it’s agreeable while it’s here.
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