How does one begin to talk about Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie? The title itself suggests an unwieldy temperament; a film unwilling to be complacent or predictable. I guess we can start with the original web series, Nirvanna the Band the Show, which began as an incredibly lo-fi production in 2008. It eventually became a more legitimate operation with subsequent seasons airing on Viceland, a now defunct television network. I’ve never seen an episode of the series, and even though it has a passionate cult fanbase, I get the impression many viewers of this film version haven’t either. And one of the first strokes of brilliance in Matt Johnson’s hysterical comedy is the efficiency with which he catches you up to speed on the adventures of the fictionalized versions of himself and his best friend, musician Jay McCarroll.
Our basic premise: Matt and Jay are a couple of Toronto-based performers who dream of getting their band, Nirvanna the Band (no association with the other band), a gig at the Rivoli, a beloved and hip music venue that has graced Queen Street West since 1982. Jay is the true musician of the two, a multi-instrumentalist who prefers to watch Matt take the lead in scheming their way into the beloved club. Their music seems to be secondary to their actual goal. In the film at least, the songs are mostly haphazard, involving Matt filibustering on the mic over a basic rhythm that Jay has created, mostly on the piano. Playing the Rivoli is a not an easy task, but it’s attainable enough for a group that has any kind of genuine creative ambition. But the ambition itself is the Rivoli, a very specific goal that feels rather modest in comparison to the vigor with which Matt and Jake take in trying to accomplish it. And that’s the engine that makes the outrageous nature of their plotting so incredibly funny.
And this is where I recommend that knowing as little as possible about Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie before going in is incredibly beneficial. The screenplay, written by Johnson and McCarroll, hums steadily, deceptively simple before introducing larger and larger stakes all while keeping the bandmates’ central motivation. It expertly shows us Matt and Jay in their 2008 days before fast-forwarding to 2025, where they are in very much the same position: sitting in their living room, trying to find a way to play the Rivoli. The decade and a half plus has taken a toll on Jay, who is beginning to show fatigue with Matt’s voracious hope that they will eventually reach their objective. Their collective delusion begins to crack, and Jay’s initial flirting with going it alone sets the stage for an absolutely outrageous sequence of events that, truly, must be seen to be believed.
The 2008 footage that we see in the film recalls the digital video, Mumblecore aesthetic of the time: bad lighting, worse sound, a style more amateur DIY than cinema-verité. At home videography has become much more sophisticated since then, but Johnson keeps the camerawork as DV as he can, including giving us glimpses of the cameramen in mirrors, not to mention fourth wall-breaking addresses to said cameramen. It all lulls you into an expectation that Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie consistently and continuously breaks against, revealing itself to be part Jackass, part Mission: Impossible, with a not insignificant amount of Back to the Future. But even that is probably saying too much. Part of the glory of this movie is watching with your mouth agape as you see Matt and Jay continue to top each crazy moment, while maintaining a level of comedy that never lets you stop laughing. It’s a viewing experience that’s unlikely to be rivaled this year.
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Directed by Matt Johnson