“They don’t just sing!” Apparently.
Geri, as Maleficent, ponders life’s big questions.
Let’s get one thing straight: Spice World is a masterpiece. If you were a little girl (or little gay) in the 90’s, you loved the Spice Girls. If you try and claim you weren’t attracted to their garish dress sense, Quality Street-esque ‘there’s one for everyone’ personalities, insanely catchy pop music and even more insanely high shoes, you’re a damn liar and I have no time for you. I could literally talk all day about how the Spice Girls shaped my childhood. How they were my first obsession, how I realised I didn’t fancy any of them, and instead, wanted to be like them. And how, as a young, seven or eight year old boy, there was an acceptable level to which one was allowed to like the Spice Girls. You could own a CD but not the dolls. You could watch them on Top of the Pops but not record it for posterity and destroy the tape due to frequent rewinding. You could talk about them in the playground in-between bouts of Pokemon but certainly not dream to own six versions of the VHS of the movie, one for each alternative cover they released. And so we begin, friends, at that moment of peak ‘Spice’. Post-global domination, pre-Geri collectively breaking the hearts of the world. A time when someone thought to themselves, these girls can carry a movie (spoiler klaxon: they struggle) and ultimately, creating a film that was pretty much the death knell for music phenomena releasing anything other than a tour movie. 1 hour and 32 minutes of cinematic platinum that made me feel like that same screaming little boy who longed for a pair of platform shoes as well as my Adidas tracksuit. Collected here, the ten valuable lessons I learnt from Spice World.