“What if the world’s greatest boy band was a group of grown-ass men?”
I mean, most “boy bands” are legally adults by the time they break out, but they’re usually in their late teens-mid twenties at most. But the eponymous group of Sean Cisterna’s latest feature Boy City are all well on their way to a midlife crisis without having found fame.
The line-up of Boy City consists of wide-eyed dreamer Jastin (Gregory Ambrose Calderone), angel-voiced Rispin (Christian Smith), dance-challenged Frezz (Alex Spencer), bad-boy Philip-Jesse (Joe Bucci), and Shyamalan-idolizing rapper Bo-Bo (Matthew Karzis). Together, they add up to a….mediocre boy-band tribute group at best, but Jastin (who swapped a vowel in his name in deference to Justin Timberlake) still believes the group’s chance is just around the corner.
But when the rejections pile up and the gigs fizzle, the group considers going their separate ways and starting their lives with “real jobs”. But at the 11th hour, Philip-Jesse comes through with angel agent Yanni (Jonas Chernick) who actually seems to believe in the group’s potential and has a solid four-point plan for success, including a killer launch track “Summertime Girl”.
That’s the good news. The bad news is that due to that single also being in the crosshairs of a rival Euro buoy band, the story takes an early-Shyamalan twist involving the Swedish mafia and an unusual amount of gunplay for a music mockumentary. Will boy City’s claim to fame end up a posthumous one?
This film left me far more puzzled than usual as it strives to be a biting satire of the boy band genre but often forgets its dentures in the glass. The whole endeavour has a rather inconsistent tone and execution (it seems to forget it’s a mockumentary several times) along with an 11th hour twist that actually gets telegraphed in the opening minutes and leads to a rather dark and cynical ending that gives the cold shoulder to the audience.
The film’s saving grace is its stellar cast who works overtime to keep the film above water. Their personalities are finely drawn and certainly sharper than the film itself with Bucci and Karzis being particular stand-outs. One can’t help but wonder if the energy they bring could have been better utilized in a shorter and tighter form with a more satisfying conclusion.
Boy City ultimately only has enough gas in the tank to merit a solid short film, rather than the 94 minute feature we’re presented with. The film’s muddled message leaves the audience more deflated and puzzled rather than intrigued or inspired. If you’re seeking some boy-band satire, I’d recommend just watching 90 minutes of The Merkins instead.
4/10
Boy City screens virtually as part of the online position of Whistler Film Festival until Jan 2, 2023