Climb aboard the double decker Spice Bus and get ready for a madcap musical adventure with the sexy phenomenons of pop - the Spice Girls. An encounter with extra-terrestrials, a night in a haunted castle, and a moment of truth in a maternity ward are just a few of the escapades the endeavored upon as the Girls gear up for their first live concert at London's Royal Albert Hall.
A grown man, reviewing Spiceworld. Well, would you trust a kid with that kind of responsibility? No sir. Would it shock you if I said this film is not good? Nope, thought not. So…..
…opening credits and we have a James Bond pastiche of slowly gesticulating female silhouettes which are revealed to be angry Spice girls. From now on I will always subconsciously replace in my minds eye the dancing girls on Bond intros with a rather baleful looking Emma Bunton, splendid. But the ruination of cultural icons doesn’t stop there, oh ho ho no, not by a long shot Mr/Mrs/Ms.
After miming (natch) on Top of the Pops and kissing Elton John (sheesh, does he get off likely), the girls retire to their tour bus, the driver being Meatloaf , who incidentally does not once drive the thing like a bat out of hell, ….pause… er hm. This bus, emblazoned with the union jack, is inexplicably cavernous inside. It’s an airplane hangar. Each girl has her own themed area; Posh has a catwalk, Baby has a swing and soft toys, Sporty has small dumbbells, Scary has a tank of fish, you get the idea, themed areas. Cheekily they have a door sign stating a maximum capacity of 5 girls (oh ho ho ho please stop), the thing has a freaking balcony for pity’s sake.
At this point I must mention band manager Richard E Grant’s sideburns, you could peel an orange on them. He looks like the teddy boy one from the flying pickets. Whilst watching it is noted, that with shades on he is a spit for Agent Smith. "Tell me Ms Halliwell, what use is a microphone… if you are unable to sing?" cue Geri’s mouth disappearing….. sigh…… if only….
A few cameos onward ( Jonathan Ross, the fat dude from Cheers, Roger Moore as the record company boss channeling Ernst Stavro Blofeld ala cat stroking mixed with bad guru analogies about pigeons) we learn there was another Spice Girl who happens to be in the family way. In a scene reminiscent of Rosemary’s Baby, they are all obsessively rubbing her bump, presumably as they have yet to discover the technicalities of childbirth under the mistaken impression it’s like summoning a genie. Posh asks at one point if Godmothers can get stretch marks. Only if they smile Posh, only if they smile. Then there’s some fantasy scene where they’re all middle aged fish wives…..?.
We are then introduced to Barry Humphries’ thinly veiled Rupert Murdochalike villain who is hunting for lascivious scoops. Kudos for referencing Tarkovskiy’s Solaris, with the rain inside his office. Then bam! Those crazy kids are giving Bergman a nod with Ginger and Scary playing chess.
Then more cameos, um, Hugh Laurie, Dominic West, Richard O’Brien, Jennifer Saunders, Sir Bob Geldof , Peter Sissons, Richard Briers, Stephen Fry telling it like it is. Alan Cumming filming it all as a documentary. It’s all pretty random. There must be a plot I’m ignoring.
All the toilets break down simultaneously on the bus so the Spices wonder into the woods, where they meet some alien fans (that’s fans who are aliens, not fans of Alien) who get confused over what part of the body you shake upon greeting. Baby signs the stomach of one whilst Ginger snogs another.
I can’t go on….. the word compromisation is used, arseless trousers are worn by male dancers during a cover version of a Gary Glitter song in a movie aimed at children, Geri Haliwell turns into Bob Hoskins in a phone box, Moore’s cat turns into a pig, both Jools Holland and Elvis Costello go way way down in my estimations. Halliwell explains how some animals express their amorous intentions by urinating on they’re prospective mate. Sporty looks mournfully on whilst gently caressing a football.
They all are there for their friend’s baby’s birth, “Now that’s what I call girl power” is uttered to much torn hair, ashes and sackcloth.
They bring a kid out of a coma.
Finally, after doing an Evel Knievel with the bus over an agape Tower Bridge, they perform at that pantheon of high art and culture, the Albert Hall (saying that, I saw James Last play there once, I mean I wasn’t there, it was on T.V. It was alright.)
Finally finally the credits are played over the cast walking around on set complaining about their character material, winky wink. After the Spices break the fourth wall suggesting the parents who took there kids to see this thing at the cinema take them off for beer and chips, we are left with the unsettling image of them watching us from the other side of screen. I won’t sleep much tonight.
Verdict: Stop right there thank you very much.
J.
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