I felt a great disturbance in the Force, as if millions of tween girls’ hormones suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly inflamed with lust. I fear something terrible has happened.
– Ancient Jedi proverb
A few minutes ago, despite contemplating Dan Aykroyd’s career trajectory, I was having a mostly peaceful evening. Then Deadline (luckily without a GOTCHA! or a TOLDJA!, because fuck Nikki Finke if she saw this coming and didn’t do anything about it) reported this delightful bit of news. My instant, unfiltered reaction via Skype:
AJ: 3D BIOPIC OF JUSTIN BIEBER. THIS IS A THING THAT IS HAPPENING.
Paul: *spit* *choke* WHAT?!? Oh my God. The decline of Western civilization.
Yes, Paramount Pictures will be making a 3D Justin Bieber biopic. Starring Justin Bieber. Featuring his music. In 3D. For what I assume will be at least 90 minutes, a tragic 90 minutes played again and again in large, overstaffed movie theaters the nation wide for several months. The very talented documentarian Davis Guggenheim, maker of good films like An Inconvenient Truth or It Might Get Loud, will direct, apparently looking to make him some o’ that Bieber bank. This enterprise assumes that Justin Bieber, at 16 years of age (though let’s be honest, he’s really only 12), has lived a life worth making into a major motion picture. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that, international fame or no, he has not. That’s right, folks. No one’s ever made a major biopic of Elvis Presley or the Beatles or Marilyn Monroe, but some kid who’s been popular for a year is getting the big screen Lifetime treatment.
Parents, clench your wallets in terror. Male tweens, put your arms around your girls and hope for at least a little tongue for being willing to tag along. Cash-hungry executives, get ready to reap your twisted, nightmarish reward. For here comes…JUSTIN 3D-EBER IN THE 3D STORY OF HIS LIFE!!! IN 3D!!! In 3D theaters on 3D Valentine’s Day in 3D 2011. 3D.
UPDATE: Having regained his faculties, Davis Guggenheim has backed out of the project. I can’t put it better than The A.V. Club did, so I won’t even try. However, may I suggest Uwe Boll as Guggenheim’s successor?