Tattoos on Justin Bieber‘s upper torso are an odd combination, no? To me it’s like watching a Care Bear on a Harley or My Little Pony dead lifting a weighted barbell. Yes, our little Justin is growing up. And with shaved fringes, highlighted tips and a wardrobe from the Junior Jersey set, he now resembles a young Vanilla Ice. Be still my raging heart; I don’t think I can take this twice in a lifetime.
Huh, now he looks to me a little like Miley in “Wrecking Ball.”
“Now, why is Justin back with another film?” You ask. I don’t know. And, quite frankly, neither does Justin. As he stammers though unasked questions like a lost foreigner on a game show, Justin Bieber, a mere two years removed from his last documentary, makes a sympathetic hero. Is it fair to say he puts the “pathetic” in sympathetic? No. I like him better than that. The kid does genuinely seem to have a good heart. And Justin Bieber’s Believe made me believe that the “man” is indeed an artist. I don’t question that he loves to invent music and plie his trade. I question that his vocabulary is on par with that of Stephenie Meyer. I question that there exists no muse for his art. I question, “will you please give up that ridiculous carpet lint over your upper lip?” It’s obvious you can’t yet grow a moustache there, Burt Reynolds.
In Believe, we learn a little more about Justin Bieber. I think that’s good; his fans will be pleased. It’s hit and (mostly) miss for the rest of us. The most touching moments of this documentary center around a six-year-old named Avalanna Routh. Avalanna had a rare form of cancer and Justin made a very big deal of giving her attention before and immediately after
her untimely end. I don’t wish to discount this at all. I think those lucky enough to know stardom have a responsibility to their fans and I give Justin kudos for understanding that. Yes, Believe is a puff piece, but most puff pieces don’t have material enough to show the star befriending a dying child. That is cool.
On the other hand, his obsession with Jon M. Chu is not cool. OMG! It’s the executive producer of Step Up Revolution and the director of G.I. Joe Retaliation! And then we meet this *ahem* talented man. A lot. And he hangs out with Justin and asks the pressing questions like, “have you ever been in love?” Well, when you’ve loved and lost like Justin has, you really know what it’s all about, doncha? Yes, that’s an homage to a better mockumentary. *sigh*
And there’s some music, too, I suppose. Justin gets introduced to screaming throngs these days as an angel with wings made entirely of musical instruments. Not wild about the symbolism, but I’ll give you props on the get-up. Then, for Lord
knows what reason, his dancers change into cheap spacesuits. With a fella to his left taking on a very Yaphet Kotto headband look, I wondered if his music was now a tribute to the magnificent horror/sci-fi original Alien. Ooooh, is something gonna pop out of Justin’s chest and start attacking fans? Pleeeeeeeeeeeease? No? Aww. Nah, the space crap was just a gimmick. Justin still sings about love. Not sure how that relates to space, but, as stated, I already have a problem with his symbolism. At least (unlike Justin Bieber: Never Say Never 3D) this set of concerts avoided focusing on the throne of shame.
As there was no arguable reason for this film to be made, Justin Bieber now needs one of two things. NEEDS, mind you; this is no longer a suggestion: One) he needs to hit rock bottom. His art is stagnating because his life is stagnating. All he knows is the mercurial fame bubble. He’s protected from every bit of stimuli that one needs to create art. He knows nothing more of the common man or common experience than your average one-percenter. If he is a true artist, he needs to suffer for his own good. Two) Assuming the first will never happen, Justin Bieber now needs an Elvis career. If he’s gonna make crappy movies, he needs to stop making documentaries and start making drama with screen romance and car chases, and then sing all the dialogue just like The King did. Original? Of course not. But it beats the Hell out of these tired exercises in pre-pubescent masturbation.
♪Do you believe in life after shlock?
I can feel something inside me say
Your entire career is a crock
Do you believe in life after (peach) fuzz
Next time I have to watch this crap
I’m gonna do it with a massive buzz♫
Rated PG, 92 Minutes
D: Jon M. Chu
W: Sarah Landman — wait, we have a writing credit on a documentary?!
Genre: Puff Piece
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Are you kidding me?
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Their parents
♪Parody inspired by “Believe”
