Where Does Justin Bieber's 3D Movie Rank Among the Most Cynically Conceived Films Ever?

No matter how many reboots, remakes, sequels, fad cash-ins and the like are cranked out of the Hollywood sausage factory every year, there is somehow always room to be genuinely shocked by the film industry's cynicism. To wit: Did anyone actually see a 3D feature starring tween-pop heartthrob Justin Bieber -- and likely directed by Oscar-winner Davis Guggenheim, no less -- coming? And in any case, where does this craven catch-all of faddy phenomena rank among some of the all-time greats of Hollywood cynicism?

In fairness, Guggenheim is not exactly what you'd call a hack, so maybe this will emerge as the definitive portrait of the pop artist as a young man (with 3D, of course, maximizing both the myth of his bangs and the overall profit potential). It's impossible to know before it opens next Feb. 11. But from its doc/performance concept to the format to the rush-job schedule, it's OK to be afraid -- and to wonder if this might be the most cynical thing this most cynical town has ever done.

Let's look at some of the comparable competition (in chronological order):

The Fastest Guitar Alive (1967)

Somehow, because MGM had roped Elvis Presley into an average of two films per year throughout most of the '60s, the studio thought it could apply a similar model to the hit singer/songwriter Roy Orbison. The result was the musical western The Fastest Guitar Alive, which featured Orbison as -- and I still can't believe this -- a Confederate spy attempting to steal gold from the San Francisco Mint with a guitar that fires bullets. Boss, right? No, really: As the admittedly infectious title song declares: "I play a boss guitar." Or alternatively: "Shaped like a lovely woman / Stay right where you are / My guitar / Is a fast guitaaarrrr." Poor Roy. The movie was horrible, most of the songs were garbage, and Orbison never worked in Hollywood again.

The Forbidden Dance (1990)

I don't know who was worse: The French entrepreneur who bludgeoned the world with the hyper-sexualized lambada dance craze in the late '80s -- thus "necessitating" this piece of crap -- or the film's tale of an Amazon princess who travels to Los Angeles on a mission to stop the destruction of her tribe's rainforest home. I'm not making this up! She lands a gig as a servant in Beverly Hills, becomes her employer's son's dance partner, and... still with me? Forbidden Dance was too lazy and unoriginal to even be the first lambada movie to capitalize on the dance fad (that would be Lambada, which also sucked in the most soul-wringing fashion), but it was inspired enough to give us the one and only Laura Harring in her big-screen breakthrough.

From Justin to Kelly (2003)

Following the lambada epidemic, it would take more than a decade before Hollywood could really load up its bowels for another good, hot, suffocating dump on American moviegoers. Enter Kelly Clarkson and Justin Guarini, whose one-two finish in the first smash season of American Idol suddenly qualified them to carry a mainstream studio effort. Or so thought Fox, which cranked out this spring-break musical romcom as a canny, cringeworthy and completely unimaginative effort in brand synergy. Or cross-collateralization. Or whatever corporate euphemism you want to substitute for "godforsaken nightmare of exploitation." Viewers weren't fooled; the film grossed less than $5 million and is roundly regarded as one of the worst films of the '00s. Karma's a bitch.

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