‘Girl Group’ Review: Rebel Wilson Writes, Directs and Stars in Derivative Pop Slop as Bland and Unimaginative as Its Title

Rebel Wilson mostly got a pass for her ebullient 2024 directing debut, The Deb, adapted from a well-received Australian stage musical by one of the show’s authors. In her second multitasking job on both sides of the camera, Girl Group, Wilson goes it alone as screenwriter, with no pre-existing material to supply the bones. The result is another ersatz Pitch Perfect, a thrown-together grab bag of familiar ideas both painfully unfunny and narratively anemic, relying primarily on charm-deficient pop nostalgia for any appeal it can muster. Which can’t be much when you start wondering, “Was Spice World really that bad?”

Of course, Spice World was that bad — at least the half-hour of it I got through on a plane — but in hindsight, its shameless cribbing from A Hard Day’s Night seems kind of endearing. Wilson is clearly a fan of the Spice Girls and other girl power purveyors of the era, judging by the presence here of the artist formerly known as Sporty Spice, Mel C; Shaznay Lewis from All Saints; and not one but two Pussycat Dolls, Ashley Roberts and Nicole Scherzinger. None of them has a lot to do, but they appear to be having fun, which should at least entitle them to a participation trophy.

Girl Group

The Bottom Line Slapdash and tuneless.

Venue: Toronto International Film Festival (Gala Presentations)
Cast: Rebel Wilson, Chabely Ponce, Lilah Pate, Bailey Stender, Daniela Couso, Ana Yi Pung, Miracle Washington, Mia Kaplan, Randall Park, Loren Gray, Jamie-Lee O’Donnell, Sally Hawkins, Jennifer Coolidge, Nicole Scherzinger
Director-screenwriter: Rebel Wilson
1 hour 43 minutes

Those retro-pop recruits play grown-up versions of the members of Gurlfriends, a group that rose to popularity following a high school talent contest in the late ‘90s, when they dazzled the crowd with their zesty take on “Wannabe.” Their first professional single, “Summer Snog,” was a smash and they were riding high when core Gurlfriend Tassie Young (Wilson) dropped out to go solo. That career move quickly fizzled, leaving a sloppy drunk has-been in the debris.

Now Gurlfriends are getting back together for a reunion tour, but when sozzled Tassie turns up ready to resume her place in the lineup — a bid to boost her self-esteem and finances — she is bluntly informed that her services are no longer required. Replacing her is Scherzinger’s unnamed diva — billed as “Popstar” in the credits — a character that takes sporting digs at the actress and singer’s own long-standing reputation. Playing a raging narcissist intoxicated with her own vocal calisthenics, Scherzinger gets one of the movie’s rare amusing moments, warbling in airy Mariah Carey melisma style even while weeping.

Discarded by her former bandmates and her flouncy manager Gabriella (please stop doing this to Jennifer Coolidge), Tassie gets smashed and charged with a DUI. As court-assigned community service, she’s sent to a youth center run by nice guy Ken (nice guy Randall Park), where she is obliged to serve as musical coach to a crew of teens eager to former a girl group.

At first Tassie merely goes through the motions, turning up and pretty much dozing off her hangovers while her charges shoot her disapproving glances. Wilson is not really acting so much as doing shtick, but as Tassie starts listening to the girls’ stories, she’s inspired to take her mentorship role more seriously. She even stays on as a volunteer once her required community service is done, preparing the Gen Z teens, who settle on Xplode as their name, to enter a record label contest to find the next great girl group.

The young actors are appealing, led by Lilah Pate and Chabley Ponce; there’s a sweetness and naturalness to their cameraderie that stands out amid so much mugging and gives the film a lift. Tassie’s sudden dedication to them is such that when she runs into her ex-Gurlfriends at the funeral of their beloved high school music teacher (Sally Hawkins, smart enough to make a quick exit), and the Scherzinger character’s monstrous antics get her kicked out, Tassie declines to replace her replacement in favor of completing her mission with the up-and-comers.

The musical numbers are better when the cast is doing covers — Pussycat Dolls’ “Don’t Cha,” Destiny’s Child’s “Survivor,” etc. — than the handful of forgettable originals. But although the young crew have strong voices and deliver pretty harmonies, the pop performances sound so processed that you could be forgiven for asking if anyone is doing their own singing. (All songs are credited as “performed by cast.”)

With its garish colors and deadening lighting, this is a cheap-looking movie so tacky and synthetic — U.K. locations standing in for Los Angeles will fool no one — that nothing seems genuine, including a hurried bit of token feminism when the Gen Z kids turn up their noses at the hypersexualization of female pop stars.

Because there needs to be rivalry to adhere to the formula, an ambitious girl group called the Cream Team gets folded in. Their coach is the scheming Miss Candy (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell from Derry Girls), who has some sort of score to settle with Tassie, though don’t ask me what. There are tender moments between Loren Gray’s Cream Team leader Jess and her younger sister Bailey (Bailey Stender), part of Team Tassie, but mostly this additional crew just clutters up the flimsy scenario with too many characters.

The broad comedy constantly falls flat, running from jaw-droppingly tired to witlessly vulgar to brazenly derivative — Gabriella urges Tassie to promote a colon cleanse power bar called Splurtz, which evokes the epic bridal store poonami scene in Bridesmaids. (Wilson’s small role in that film was one of her finer moments.)

The script is entirely out of ideas by the time the big finale rolls around, with Gurlfriends joining Xplode on stage — and poor Coolidge on piano accordian, like some deranged beer hall escapee. The wrap-up reminded me of daffy Broadway musicals like Mamma Mia! in which the writers simply slap on a celebratory mashup of hits.

The one redeeming thing about seeing Girl Group was that it instantly sent me to Spotify to rediscover Mel C’s 2000 duet with the late Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes from TLC, “Never Be the Same Again,” a silky-smooth dose of millennial R&B likely to stand the test of time better than anything in Wilson’s crude confection.