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 However
the definition might be parsed, the concept of the Boy Band is nothing
new: A group of young, good looking fellows, primped to perfection and
trained within an inch of their lives to sing and dance their way into
the hearts of an unsuspecting female public has been revived over and
over in various forms since the dawn of the recording industry. As
shown in the documentary, Backstreet Boys: Show ‘Em What You’re Made Of,
in a world muddling through the permanently overcast ugliness of the
late 80s/early 90s grunge years, full of grubbiness, drug abuse and
death; from the sunny shores of Florida came a quintet of young men so
perfectly prefabricated and squeaky clean, they seemed to wash away the
dirt of an entire era with one waterlogged video clip. Crooning
romantic lyrics over bubblegum perfect pop and sliding into smooth moves
clad in candy-coloured silk pajamas under a torrent of rain; what was
many Americans’ first iconic vision of the Backstreet Boys in their clip
for “Quit Playing Games (with My Heart)” would launch them on a journey
they are still on two decades later.
The
Backstreet Boys were the biggest, plain and simple. No one could touch
the imprint they’d left on their generation in terms of albums sales and
chart topping. The template was tried, true and simple; five
picturesque young fellows assembled by a wealthy Floridian, interested
in the entertainment industry, who placed the pretty boys against a
backdrop of can’t fail music producers. There was the older, wiser,
model-handsome leader, Kevin Richardson, elfin, powerhouse vocalist,
Brian Littrell, sensitive, soulful, puppy dog, Howie Dorough, black
sheep bad-boy, A.J. McLean, and the impish babyface, Nick Carter (all
of 15 years old at the time of their first album). From their
overrunning cup of success flowed their closest rivals (and
labelmates) *NSync, undisputed bubblegum goddess, Britney Spears,
Christina Aguilera, 98 Degrees, Mandy Moore, O-Town, LFO, and dozens
more further down on the Tiger Beat magazine food chain.
In
celebration of their 20th anniversary, the group has produced
this chronicle, retracing their history and present course and what they
believe will be the ostensible future for Backstreet Boys, despite all
the naysayers who might regard them as relics of a past best forgotten.
In the
age of YouTube and Itunes, so much has changed since the Backstreet
Boys’ heyday and one of the biggest alterations is not having a standard
place to show music videos, which was at one time, the most important
tool for introducing a group to the world. MTV and VH1 ruled in that
regard and were absolutely instrumental in the group’s success. I
mention the loss of those stations because without a doubt, Backstreet
Boys: Show ‘Em What You’re Made Of would have been a perfect fit to play
on one of those channels, as it has almost no reason either in its scope
or narrative to play in any movie theatre or even as a video-on-demand
offering. What the filmmakers have presented is a documentary with so
few surprises and eye-opening moments as to wonder why they even
bothered? I was left with far more questions than answers about the
movie’s subjects.
Having
the group itself as producers might’ve been the worst possible choice in
making this film. It is obvious there are plenty of no-go zones and
stories that were splashed all over newspapers and entertainment
television at the time and might still beg clarification or comment are
glossed over, directed elsewhere, or never addressed at all. What’s
odder still, is that often the group brings these issues up themselves:
After introducing *NSync into the conversation as a betrayal by their
Svengali/crook manager, Lou Pearlman, how did they feel to watch the
younger group steal their thunder? How did they feel about the battalion
of copycat acts they inspired? Why did Kevin Richardson leave the band?
What were the discussions that brought him back? Why do the married
members never talk about their families, or the effects of the reunion
and tour on their home lives? How did they know they were over as a
hitmaking entity? What did they do in the years that they stopped
making records? We’re given a little bit of Richardson’s reaction, but
how did the other members respond when A.J. kept falling back into
addiction? They also ignore the fairly weighty gorilla in the room of
not only manager/creator Pearlman’s financial misdeeds, but his sexual
ones; glaring rumours about the older man’s predatory behaviour with his
young protégées that were rampant for years and had included a complaint
from one Backstreet Boy’s mother. Even something as simple as why they
have taken on this Herculean task of completing a world tour with very
little prep time and many shows scheduled, when none of the members (except
perhaps Howie Dorough) are at their physical peak isn’t explored.
Some very obvious questions that never get any answers or insight.
Instead, we are fed some incredibly cliché “homecoming” footage of each
of the guys going to their old neighbourhoods, or old elementary schools
and getting teary-eyed at some memory, or demonstrating how they
remembered their old training routines.
It’s
not that one needs to dig in the dirt to make a good documentary, but
when the subject is the most successful boy band in history, with
millions of girls thrown at their feet at such an early age and a very
detailed history of strife, the extremely obvious lack of grit then
becomes conspicuous and manipulative. Almost as a bone to the audiences
who will be lulled into a stupor by the pallidness of this telling, we
are shown a few moments of interest; one occurs when the group gather in
London to record a new album and we see - for a quick minute - that they
can actually play instruments, sing and write. Another intriguing scene
takes place at a group meeting where Carter decides to take years of
frustration out on Littrell, who is suffering from voice issues, and it
practically comes to dozens, with each one hurling invective at the
other:
Carter: “I’m not afraid of you anymore” “Are we going to talk about
the fact that you don’t necessarily sound as good as you used to? Are
we going to talk about when we get into the studio and producers come to
us and tell us they got problems because of your fucking voice?”
Littrell: “Yeah, cos I can’t do your job, anymore.”
Just
when your ears perk up and you think you’re seeing something
interesting, it’s over; never visited again and all that follows is
hunky-dory, leaving one to wonder if the scene wasn’t manufactured to
inject some much needed spark into what surely even the filmmakers
must’ve seen were pretty dull proceedings.
I
would have liked a bit more on their work with the Scandinavian
hit-making factory, led by writer-producer, Max Martin, that was
responsible for not only Backstreet Boys’ debut single, "We've Got It
Goin' On," but megahits like “Quit Playing Games (with My Heart),”
"Everybody (Backstreet's Back)," "Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely"
and "I Want It That Way." We get a little bit of insight on those days
from Howie Dorough, who felt pushed aside by this new direction, and his
talent and contribution discounted, but then it’s dropped. To that end,
I might have also liked to hear how bit by bit the guys did get
self-penned tracks onto their albums, or perhaps to talk about their
dissatisfaction - if there was any - with being regarded as talented Ken
dolls, propped into position, or the image they had to uphold. We
aren’t even shown enough of how very talented the men are as vocalists:
We catch quick glimpses that remind one why that music stuck with them,
or, how epic Brian’s bit on that song was, or how A.J. really did bring
the funk to that track, but then we’re back at this or that member’s old
dance school watching Carter, the baby of the group, having trouble
keeping up with the choreography of his own song, while young ballerinas
who might have been conceived to "As Long as You Love Me" outdance him.
What
is remarkable is seeing how not particularly well-preserved the members
are. Their current ages range from 35-43, but some of them come off
considerably older; between physical ailments, lack of conditioning, and
in some instances, a rather elderly-seeming dispassion. From their
look, it might seem their road was harder than many rock stars, but one
couldn’t tell that for sure from this non-stick documentary.
Back
to my longing for the days of VH1; I think the makers of the old Rock
Doc series, Behind the Music would’ve come up with a much more
interesting offering that pulled far fewer punches than this film.
Because there’s no clear sense of tribulation, there’s not even a
feeling of triumph or completion by the film’s end. One gets the
impression this whole 20th anniversary tour was simply a
thing to do because they’d reached 20 years in the business - longevity
versus creativity. Plenty of other far less successful groups have done
same, but few have documented the shallowness of their reasoning as
aptly as this.
There
was a lot of room for discussion and content in this story, but instead,
as producers, it’s clear the Backstreet Boys opted for a puffier piece
that feels more like a promotion for their tour or upcoming ventures
than an effort to make anyone truly understand their struggle. It’s a
pity. I definitely did not want it that way.
~ The
Lady Miz Diva
Jan 30th,
2015
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