20 Years On, ‘Spice World’ Is Better Than It Was Ever Given Credit For

Spice World — known to some as “the Spice Girls movie” — turns 20 this year. Released at the zenith of the pop group’s fame, the film killed it at the box office (no big surprise, given the group’s “it” status on the charts at the time). But Spice World shamefully never received the recognition it deserved, and most critics (although not all) tore it to shreds.

This mostly came down to one of two reasons. Apparently morphing into music critics for a day, some writers observed that Spice World is an obvious homage to the Beatles’ A Hard Day’s Night (both movies are mockumentary-style glimpses into their subjects’ lives as pop stars) before grumping, as Roger Ebert did, that “the huge difference, of course, is that The Beatles were talented”. Other critics quickly derided it as nothing more than a shameless money-grab for preteens. It’s a bit of a thoughtless criticism, considering all Hollywood movies are made with the aim of being profitable for studios. At least Spice World was semi-transparent about it, given it was tied in with the release of the Girls’ second album, Spiceworld. 

Few critics gave the film much thought beyond making comments like “ew, pop music” and “ew, preteens”, save for the occasional complaint that there was no plot (ironically, A Hard Day’s Night was similarly devoid of a storyline, and was critically lauded for it).

But watching the film back, it’s bracingly clever. Spice World is self-aware, and doesn’t hesitate in owning the fact that the Spice Girls — and subsequently, their fame — are totally artificial, an invention on the part of record label executives with a complicit media. The band was, of course, created by a record label and not organically — similar to the way a reality TV producer might assemble a cast.

The movie doesn’t deal with the formation of the Spice Girls, but it is more than happy to talk about the fact all five of the women are playing one-dimensional roles. The film’s acknowledgment of the Spice Girls’ fakeness is one big knowing wink. Spice World takes the artificial, hyper-styled identities of the band and pushes them so far that the movie is in some ways a parody.

The Spice Bus (a London double-decker decked out in a large Union Jack) is the most literal example of this; its “interior” is inexplicably large, a comfortable living space for all five Girls, defying the laws of physics. Just like the movie, it’s not meant to be realistic — it’s meant to be silly.

Much of the appeal of Spice World is in its artificial nature; the world of the Spice Girls is so surreal, and the narrative offers pure escapism. This is most apparent in one gag when the Girls visit a friend in hospital — the parents of a comatose boy ask them to visit their son. Just by talking to him, the Spice Girls are such flawless idols that he awakes from his coma, cured of whatever malady ailed him (the film doesn’t go into much detail, as the narrative has little regard for non-famous normals).

Critics complained that each Spice Girl had a singular personality trait and lacked depth but… that’s the point.

Spice World crafts a host of jokes around its stars’ plasticity and perfectly one-dimensional identities. Various critics complained that each Spice Girl had a singular personality trait and lacked depth (Baby is infantile; Posh is snobby, etc.), but again… that’s the point. As stars, they’re not fully-formed individuals like “Geri Haliwell”; they’re defined by monikers like “Ginger”. In a photoshoot sequence, the Girls swap clothes and assume each others’ identities. As Scary imitates Ginger, squawking “blah blah blah, feminism, girl power!” at the camera, the movie is acknowledging how fabricated and interchangeable the Girls’ assumed personalities can be.

We do see cracks in those plasticky veneers, and this is another source of Spice World’s humour. These jokes seem to focus around Baby, who fantasises about using her image of innocence to commit crimes (she does ultimately use the “baby” thing to get out of a pickle with a cop, later in the movie). Baby — or perhaps her “real” persona, Emma Bunton — clearly has a dark side. She even suggests changing her name and identity to “Trainspotting Spice”. It’s a funny moment of relief from the cardboard-y identities the Girls are obliged to put on, and not the sort of joke the average shameless Hollywood blockbuster would usually make.

The ridiculous artificiality of Spice World is a large part of its appeal, but the movie’s self-awareness seals the deal. Spice World knows that its raison d’être is as a fluff piece to sell albums and movie tickets. It even reminds the audience of this, by featuring a documentary crew within the storyline; they are filming the girls for their own fictional fluff piece, trying to make something meaningful out of a bunch of footage of five women at their day job.

But finer still is the film’s nod to the ridiculous nature of the Spice Girls’ mega-fame, as concocted by the media. The subplot where an unscrupulous tabloid editor secretly records Ginger using the idiom “is the Pope a Catholic?” and turns it into a fabricated scandal wherein the Girls are an anti-religious trojan horse is a witty farce that’s a stone’s throw away from the reality of tabloid media (not to mention it predicted the UK’s tabloid newspaper hacking scandal). It also pins the joke on the kind of audiences who lap up celebrity news, and again, is a knowing hint at the fact that celebrity identities are fabricated — by the media, labels, or otherwise.

All self-reflexivity and postmodernity aside, Spice World is just a fun movie. The cameos (including Meatloaf, Stephen Fry, Elton John and Bob Geldof) are cracker, the jokes are at turns unexpected or come with just the right amount of cheese. “Fame is a fickle thing,” one character points out; you may as well enjoy it and have a laugh while you’ve got it.

20 years on, Spice World is a great reminder to get out of the arthouse circle jerk and enjoy some fun for 90 minutes.

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Tim Forster is an Australian writer and broadcaster based in Montreal, Canada. He is editor of food news site Eater Montreal. In his spare time, he can be found cycling militantly, exploring urban landscapes and tweeting tacky Canadiana at @timothyjforster.