Those of us discreetly looking forward to a theatrically released film featuring One Direction were perhaps hoping for something more captivating and ingenious than a glorified electronic press kit. We wanted something that didn't represent the depthless, scandal-mongering, narrow-minded, pleasure-seeking spirit of the times; the efficient result of a few business meetings, and the occasional quasi-creative one, that would then rely on cultural obedience to generate the babbling publicity necessary for it to be certified an authentic cultural event.
Those foolishly fancying a sudden implausible twist in the life of a plastic pop group, insolently brokered on a spiritless talent show, were perhaps hoping that 1D's hard-working behind-the-scenes masterminds fancied commissioning the genuinely unorthodox — Louis CK channeling Nam June Paik, Tom Ford following "Dogme 95" film-making rules, a tortured "Glee"/"Game of Thrones" hybrid directed by Leos Carax, Trey Parker and Matt Stone animating the group's story as a sequel to "Team America." The cultural skill in this case, though, is to generate so much excited attention with such a puny, gutless and horribly competent product — a true sign of the times.
For us aging pop romantics, this was surely a chance cleverly to present the lively, idiosyncratic, possibly sinister truth about One Direction, and the number of bold, luxuriant lies you need to tell in order to so successively sell an entertainment illusion, in such a way we would now think of the group not as feather-brained puppets on course for bankruptcy, shame, scandal and trash television but as pioneering escapist activists unexpectedly in control of their own destiny.