'Strength and courage and a Wonderbra'

By Darby Saxbe and Jessica Winter

We can't help but feel a little protective of the Spice Girls lately. Returned Yale-in-Londoners tell us of the solemn candlelight vigils dotting the British landscape in the days after the January issue of the American Vogue hit the stands, with sordid revelations about Posh's dearth of vocabulary skills and a regrettable Spiceified "fashion spread" that really amounted to little more than mug shots. Evidently, Vogue's editor-in-chief Anna Wintour decided that at least two of the Fab Five take too many crumpets with their tea to rub shoulderblades with the likes of supermodels Stella and Shalom. We dreaded what loomed as the inevitable Courtney-fication of these ill-dressed, loudmouthed lasses of dubious talent, whereby Ginger would be trading in her Wonder Woman gear for Prada and Posh would be looking into rhinoplasty. These pressing concerns evince why SpiceWorld is such a promising title for their debut film: it pledges a cinematic experience on the Spice Girls' own terms, even if those terms don't provide much in the way of plot, music, or acting ability.

Matt Wiegle/YH

With an off-the-cuff style and documentary feel, SpiceWorld places itself in the tradition of A Hard Day's Night in chronicling the trials of life on the road and the jubilation of worldwide success. But SpiceWorld is too heavy-handed and self-conscious--rather than light and self-reflexive--to match the charm of the Beatles paradigm. Moreover, A Hard Day's Night was driven by infectious, innovative tunes, while Spice songs tend to be pallid, derivative synth-pop affairs. But credit them with at least some of the cheeky insouciance that propelled their moptopped antecedents to stardom: the Girls wreak cheerful havoc on snooty industry parties and do their best to exasperate their long-suffering manager. They also manage to save their movie from complete derivativeness by infusing it with an oddly feminist slant. To what do they credit their success? Ask Ginger: "Strength and courage and a Wonderbra!"

Undergarments notwithstanding, SpiceWorld is strictly G-rated fare. For a group that mounted the charts clad in ensembles that appeared constructed from little more than glue and rubber bands, the Spice Girls express little interest in sex. As they rehearse in Italy, a troupe of male dancers sporting skimpy boxers jump on stage. Gyrating ensues. Our Girls demand the immediate exit of the boy toys, because as Ginger points out, "We don't want to seem tacky." Meanwhile, Baby explains to one dancer that her bed is too cluttered with stuffed animals to accommodate a mate, Scary and Posh recoil from the twitching carved pectorals of another, and Sporty flexes her biceps for a third. And that's as close as this movie comes to a sex scene, except perhaps when the Girls convene in bed for a cuddle session; the film is more lesbo-erotic than anything else.

Taken in its shambling entirety, the movie is a mess. The plot is a thin joke, there are plenty of broad gags that fall flat, and the whole thing looks a bit dingy. Director Bob Spiers was also at the helm of the BBC's Absolutely Fabulous, and both productions share a certain high-end home-movie quality. But Ab Fab's low-rent look and often clumsy direction is integral to its amoral, irreverent absurdism, while SpiceWorld's seediness seems to collide with its youngster-friendly script. But the movie has its share of sharply-observed moments and a slew of amusing cameos. Roger Moore is an enigmatic boss seen stroking in turn a cat, a rabbit, and a suckling pig; Meat Loaf drives the tour bus; and the Girls' managers lament the transience of fame in a dank bar tended by Elvis Costello.

SpiceWorld is canny enough to recognize the absurdity of its subject. The Girls stay resiliently in character throughout: Baby is never without her lollipop, Posh has a mini-runway installed in the tour bus, and Sporty passes all her free time on an exercise bike. But the filmmakers can't decide whether to spoof the Girls or to valorize them. When they try to do the latter, the movie becomes as kiss-kiss cheesy as the clueless media folk it wants to satirize. "It's about friendship and commitment, things you wouldn't know about!" Ginger barks into her cell phone. Eyes roll and mouths yawn. But the Spice Girls never promised us clever repartée, generation-defining songs, or mind-blowing performances (has anyone else noticed that our muse Ginger cannot sing or dance?). What they have pledged is their smiles, their cleavage, and their giddy all-together-now girlyness, and on none of these counts does SpiceWorld disappoint. All they need is love. Somebody tell Anna Wintour.

Sites related to this article
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• Spice up your life at the official Spice World site.
• Experience girl power at the official Spice Girls homepage

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