Spice World (1997) Review

By Andrea Baylis

Zigga zig huh. That’s what they said. Posh, Baby, Scary, Ginger and Sporty: those spunky English girls called Spice and their big f***ing shoes. All sparkly and spandexed and with aerosol galore, as of this writing the Spice Girls are no more. And although the zigga zig huhs made no sense, we listened. We listened a lot. Damn those catchy songs.

As their reunion tour has ended last month, I bring you a review of the critically-panned craptastic Spice World. Purchased on VHS in perhaps what what can be attributed to a drunken haze, I have since soberly admitted to viewing this movie far too many times. I like it, I really really like it.

Plot: C

The double-decker bus has long been a symbol of London and more specifically, English culture. Those big behemoths clunk around Big Ben, 10 Downing Street, Harrods and other such landmarks while providing interested tourists with tidbits and lore. In Spice World, we quickly learn that the Spice Girls procured one of these vehicular beasts. With Meatloaf as their driver and their stressed-out manager in tow, the Girls are, in what I can assume to be a silly sense of irony, driven to exhaustion. That said, didn’t Meatloaf once proclaim that when in love he would do anything for it but he wouldn’t do that? Looks like he did.

Spread over the course of a few days, Spice World follows the Girls around their busy schedule all the while planning a sellout gig at the famed Albert Hall. As if the Girls weren’t busy enough, a sleazy tabloid editor seeks salacious headline material. Kevin McMaxford is the editor and he also likes to spit a lot. McMaxford employs the help of a paparazzo who, in a later scene, proves as flexible as a teeny Chinese contortionist by concealing himself within workings of a toilet.

Throughout the course of the movie, the Girls meet several unsavory types and as such, various unwanted encounters occur. One particular scenario goes something like this….Overworked and spread thin, the group’s manager (who himself is generally a dick) books the Girls for just about everything which provides exposure. Cut to an Italian television show featuring a parade of scantily clad Romanesque beefcakes with bronzed buns of steel and rocking assless pants. Ahh, cinema!

Upon returning from Italy, the Girls pack in the Spice Bus and begin chugging down a nameless country road. (I still don’t get why they were taking a scenic drive. I’m still pretty sure London isn’t rural. Perhaps artistic license? Heightened suspense? Ha, who the hell am I kidding.) Although the interior of the bus is larger than my apartment and probably smells infinitely better, the bus somehow lacks proper plumbing fixtures and fresh water. Miraculously, through a wonder of science, all 5 girls suffer some kind of spontaneous bladder fit. They gotta pee and they gotta pee like now. Totally. For real. Meatloaf reluctantly pulls over and off they go trotting into the English forest. In what proves the most plausible part of the film, a spaceship carrying little green men plops down right in front of the Girls. Conveniently carrying Sharpies through the space-time continuum, the little rubberized chartreuse dudes declare their space SpiceLove and request autographs and tickets to the upcoming gig. Happy to oblige their intergalactic fans, the Girls then squee about their little squidgy noses and the Girls scamper away back onto the bus. Just another day in the life of a Spice Girl.

Later on, there is yet another bit of comedy gold. We find that the group’s management team has arranged a dance workshop led by a psychotic instructor, Mr. Step. I don’t know who the actor is but man, he’s just awesome. For any straight guys reading this review, this is the part of the movie where you should pay attention. (Warning: potential tent pitching here.) This bit features the Girls in multicolored active wear with choreographed bouncy breasts. In the spirit of friendly competition they also get wet and dirty. In the end, through all their wacky encounters, the Girls do get to their gig and lip-sync their jolly good crumpets off. Everyone is happy. And so concludes Spice World a wonderfully kaleidoscopic acid trip of a movie and one of this reviewer’s favorites.

Fashion: D+

As was mentioned previously, the Girls were known for wearing big damn boots, shoes and all things pedal. If they looked orthopedic or had lots of straps, it was a done deal. Not my thing.

Eighty percent of the Girls now have babies so such footwear is inappropriate for chasing around little poop machines. Mommyhood is about
practicality.

A few of the girls like to wear the Union Jack as an article of clothing. While I suppose such an act is quasi redeeming, trendy and fun and a
demonstration of nationalism, something about having the flag wrapped around your backside just ain’t right. The literalness of being able to shit on your country is well, um, laughable.

Hair: B

Like the shoes, it’s big. I like it.

Cameos: A

Bob Geldof
Elvis Costello
Jennifer Saunders (I have serious AbFab love so this garners an automatic A)
Bob Hoskins
Elton John
Mark McKinley
Roger Moore
George Wendt
Meatloaf’s role, while not technically a cameo, also gets big points from me and I’m not even a fan. A cover of Paradise by the Dashboard Light would have been so bonus here. Celluloid gold.

Paris Hilton Hot Factor: C+

The Girls are generally good-looking but let’s not forget this is set in England starring…English people. They’ve had a few hot exports but the U.K. certainly isn’t famous for their pool of scorching sexy DNA lovechildren. Don’t believe me? Amy Winehouse, Kelly Osbourne, Kate Moss, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Pete Doherty, etc. Britain: The land of super jacked teeth.

Overall: C+

This movie is bad, I won’t lie. Like George Washington said, “I cannot tell a lie.” However, this reviewer is a sucker for sh**ty cinema. But sometimes it’s so bad it’s good. My advice? Go get hammered one snowy eve and watch this movie. You’ll do one of two things: laugh your ass off or hurtle an empty Guinness bottle across the room and f*** up your perfectly good television. I vote for the first one.

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