There is no good popstar movie. There, I said it. But before you start lashing out, allow me to explain. You might be thinking, “Perfect Blue exists,” and I agree; however, it mainly focuses on mid 90’s J-pop and the obsessive nature of the idol system—and it’s an anime. So let me rephrase: there is no good Western, live-action popstar movie.
I’m talking about a big, hairy film, one that unabashedly depicts what it actually means to be a pop star: a product and an artist, shaped by adversities and pressures thrust upon them. For the record, I’m not a popstar myself, but the popstar media available to film fans consistently misrepresents the common trials and tribulations they face.
Many popstar characters do not have that bloodshot-eyed ambition to be the biggest star alive. Their dreams are handed to them, the opportunities arrive simply because they find it fun to sing. These movies also omit the creative flow states popstars actually live in when they become both critical and financial successes, releasing hit after hit consecutively à la Rihanna. And when roadblocks finally appear, they barely register. There’s no urgency. No real cost. They hit a dead end, weep in the bathroom, pop a Xan and the boo boo’s gone. That’s not enough. Do they pull a Britney and have the world’s most famous, warranted crash-out? Do they pull a Madonna and tell the people what they want to know through some iconic bangers? Hell, do they pull a Weeknd and write about their true self disappearing inside the machine? No! Scenes like these should be non-negotiable for the perfect popstar movie. After consuming all the relevant media available, it’s clear what’s missing. So, I’ve devised a formula to create my perfect popstar movie.
The Rider:
- A protagonist with the lifelong dream of being a popstar
- A relentless pursuit of that dream where the end justifies the means
- A record-label acquisition scene
- A creative flow state sequence filled with wins up the wazoo
- A “someone’s getting fired” moment
- A high stakes climax:
a) a flop era
b) paparazzi everywhere
c) existential crisis and the quest to find one’s true self
d) all of the above - A compelling fall from grace or persistent battle against one
- A killer soundtrack of pre-existing pop songs
Optional: Good original songs to be sung by the popstar in diegetic performances only
Many films have attempted to pass as great popstar movies, but most either ignore my criteria entirely or just merely tick a few boxes. Let’s take a closer look at them.
The first movie to outright fail this rubric is Vox Lux. Directed by Brady Corbet, the film chronicles a popstar’s before and after, beginning at peak stardom. That was its first mistake. Celeste (Natalie Portman) gains media attention after performing a song at a memorial for the victims of a school shooting she survived. From there, an unnamed manager (Jude Law) takes her under his wing and propels her towards pop stardom.
The only thing the first act gets right is Corbet’s portrayal of the commodification of trauma through media. Celeste is able to become a successful product because of her traumatic experience. However, Corbet chooses to skip over the depiction of her ascent into stardom. This omission is fatal. Celeste’s career progression is not shown, leaving the audience to fill in twenty years of missing context. How many hits did she have? How did her sound evolve? What looks does she experiment with? These questions ruminate in the watcher’s mind as they encounter the khia’s final form. The buildup is 86’d, draining any weight from the sink-or-swim moment Celeste is meant to face. Seeing her in a murky end zone without witnessing her buildup also begs the question if her crumbling is even deserved. Some may argue that this is an intentional authorial choice, that Corbet wants to grant Celeste’s metamorphosis to the audience. But to create a captivating popstar film, the illustration of the rise before the fall is paramount.
And then there’s the aesthetic failure. The costume and cosmetic choices in this film are insulting, degrading popstars to wacky girls that throw sci-fi shit on to get attention. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the movie is genuinely boring, which is impressive for a tale about someone whose job description outlines the creation of fun.
The next example, one that was miles ahead to get it right than Vox Lux, is Smile 2. The second installation of the psychological horror franchise follows a freshly rehabbed popstar, Skye Riley (Naomi Scott), who becomes a victim of that disease where people smile at you creepy. I liked the first Smile film because it was fun, spooky, and knew when to shut up at a time when every movie just had to say something. And I really enjoyed Smile 2 because, obviously I fuck with popstar stories. However, it can’t be the great popstar movie because it’s bound and gagged by its genre.
Skye falls victim to the happy plague after linking with her plug so you could say her demise was “terrible but like…inevitable?” Instead of a raw, gritty downward spiral linked to the consequences of her past catching up to her, the audience just gets jump scares. Though those scares are clearly inspired by horror classics about artistic obsession like Perfect Blue and Suspiria, these gourmet frights don’t translate into anything truly meaningful. Skye’s descent into madness is characterized by the possession of the entity rather than the pressures of fame catching up to her. Because of this, the impact of her madness is lessened and the required arc doesn’t happen effectively. The entity’s impact isn’t manifested in her music or style thus failing the rubric. Otherwise, Skye still kind of belongs in the “wacky girls that throw sci-fi shit on” category, but with respect to Demi and Miley in their flop eras. And while the original songs made for this film are decent, they can definitely be discerned as a movie song rather than a standalone pop song.
The closest attempt to the perfect popstar movie isn’t a movie at all. Sam Levinson’s ever-so-polarizing HBO series, The Idol, is the clearest blueprint for how pop-stardom should be tackled, stylistically at least. The plot is simple, in theory. Jocelyn (Lily Rose-Depp), a popstar recovering from an onstage mental breakdown, wants to reclaim her title as an it-girl so she gets into a relationship with Tedros, (Abel “The Weeknd” Tesfaye) who happens to be the leader of a pretty freaky cult.
In reality, the show is definitely more of a vibes-off with some captivating vignettes from Jocelyn. The story starts at Step 6 of my rubric, but weaves insights of the previous steps throughout. Jocelyn hits a creative block, and seeks out inspiration through Tedros in unconventional ways. Those ways being sadomasochistic sex and occasional party drugs—avenues that could be interesting to see onscreen—but the prudes on the internet disagree, unable to see past the explicit content. Nevertheless, I think the execution of this practice came off as cringey because of The Weeknd’s acting. His performance exudes Disney Channel bully mixed with a Dhar Mann reject, which totally erases the intrigue behind Jocelyn’s inspiration for her new sound. Be that as it may, these popstar diary entries still give us glimpses of Jocelyn’s quest to reclaim her fame, with the audience initially unaware that she was the one with agency the entire time.
Depp plays Jocelyn with heartbreaking conviction. In one standout scene, after overindulging in Tedros’ inspiration diet and wrapping up a gruelling video shoot, Jocelyn calls out into a dark soundstage for her dead, abusive mother, then gaslights her team into thinking she didn’t say anything, then laughs maniacally. It’s reminiscent of Vicki from RHOC’s Freudian slip about her dead mother, while also evoking Rachel Berry’s failed NYADA audition (a.k.a. pleak)—said here in the most complimentary degree.
Those bite-sized intimations of Jocelyn’s past with her mother, along with the introduction of the hairbrush as a symbol, were enthralling scenes. Like “that’s what the fans wanna see:” sneak peaks into the personal complications of pop-stardom and how their fucked up nature is masked by glittering lights, electrifying beats, and sharp outfits. These pockets could’ve been teased out more, which docks the show’s marks for the Perfect Popstar Piece of Media, but it’s also due to the show’s messy backstage quotidian impeding it from doing so.
The Idol ticks the killer soundtrack box. The promotional materials featured needle drops from Justice and an epic remix of Britney’s “Gimme More,” while the show itself diegetically incorporates tracks from Fiona Apple and Madonna. They clearly know what they’re doing. Even the original songs made for the show are bangers. Jocelyn’s comeback single, “World Class Sinner,” features lyrics intentionally reminiscent of a naughty “Barbie Girl” parody, satirizing the Popstar but the beat still fucks. Featuring the musical stylings of The Weeknd, Lily Rose-Depp and Blackpink’s Jennie, the dark-pop behemoth became certified platinum in 2023.
Jocelyn’s performance outfits are typical, but it’s her off-duty looks that really serve. A short, skimpy two-piece complimented by Chanel cat-eye sunglasses and a Superslim for dance practice…Gag!
Overall, The Idol is held together by semen, spit and Elmer’s school glue, which eliminates it from being the definitive popstar media, but it was the best attempt so far. Until…
The Moment, written and directed by Aidan Zamiri is a mockumentary chronicling a heightened retelling of the cultural frenzy following the release of Charli xcx’s hit album: brat. The film portrays how the chaos is managed, and muted, by xcx’s label determined to control the narrative by taming the brat beast into a commodity. The Moment puts the mock in mockumentary. Like, the film is hilarious, thanks in large to Alexander Skarsgård’s portrayal of Johanness, a kooky tour director dressed like a Bali gentrifier, alongside Charli’s own quippy one-liners. The film is also unapologetically British with its idiosyncratic dry humour and peri-peri references. Crucially, the film leverages being funny while also delivering emotional popstar snapshots.
Since the film is based somewhat on true events, it effectively begins at Step 4: Charli already in a flow state in peak brat-dom. The audience is expected to know the backstory, so the crashouts here aren’t your typical slow climb to the top of the big ass slide at the funfair followed by the bumpy come-down, but more like a laggy loading bar where it ramps up, halts with a mini crashout, continues on, then builds up to a fucking rebirth.
Charli navigates her life with her new found fame after being a relatively niche artist for the majority of her career. Once she reaches that height, she misreads earnest advice from success scion Kylie Jenner, bending herself to her label’s wishes in hopes to make “the moment” last forever, never to return to the khia asylum. Finally, she comes to a more radical realization: she can move on. She can be a “million different people,” she is capable of change and can watch how that change manifests in her work.
That conclusion is quite a hopeful one for this canon, and quite satisfying, in my opinion, especially with Charli’s take on the eras discourse—a direct counterpoint to a certain popstar who made billions from a tour promoting her eras popularized the claim that eras are a by-product of industry misogyny, something to be re-loved by the public.
The film also toys with physicality in a really interesting way. During rehearsal where it seems like Charli is on top of the world, label peeps and Johannes sit in. After she greets them, the camera pans to the jumbotron where xcx steps back, overlayed with a fringe of chains and the camera lingers, appearing as if xcx has walked herself into a trap. Later, after a failed facial appointment, Charli bumps into Kylie Jenner while looking frizzy, flushed, and has an overgrown lady stache; her physical signs of stress are juxtaposed with flawless Jenner in a sexy bikini and an effortless soft-glam look.
Then comes a Hannah Montana-coded moment: Charli removes the Disney-fied slime-green extensions and Vanessa Hudgens Coachella face gems in a passive-aggressive reveal to show that underneath it all, “she’s just an ordinary girl” that “gets scared,” “feel(s) ignored” and “chokes on” her “own words.”
The visuals fuck heavy (thank you Sean Price Williams, you are my sunshine) accompanied by strobe lights, loud music, and dancing galore (roderick_yes_meme). Though there were no original songs made for the film for a diegetic performance, A.G. Cook’s wicked score paves the way for more electronic music to be featured in film. They understood the assignment.
So, for now, the Perfect Popstar Movie crown belongs to The Moment. It’s a cohesive, self-aware, and realistic look into the inner workings of a popstar. The Idol would be tied here if it had a neater package, but its vibe is exactly what we need for a darker, twisted version of a popstar movie.
The future is bright for popstar movies though, as Mother Mary, a film depicting a popstar’s estranged relationship with her former stylist is set to release later this year, and the trailer looks quite promising. Charli is also making some songs for the film so maybe, just maybe, Charli xcx has the Midas touch for popstar movies. It takes one to know one, after all.