Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie Dir: Matt Johnson (13th Floor Film Review)
You stop wondering whether they’ll ever succeed. The real question becomes whether they even know how to stop.
Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie emerges from a cult Canadian web series that began in the late 2000s, following Matt Johnson and Jay McCarrol’s long-running attempt to book a show at Toronto’s Rivoli. The feature doesn’t reboot the premise. It simply commits harder.
The film stands on its own even if you haven’t seen the series, though its origins reveal the scale of the commitment behind it. In feature form, the idea doesn’t change so much as escalate.
Matt Johnson directs with the same handheld immediacy that defined the series, a style he has said finds its form in the edit. The film moves between mockumentary, reality and performance, where apparent spontaneity is carefully shaped. What looks improvised rarely is. It knows exactly how far reality can be pushed before it snaps.
On screen, Matt and Jay play heightened versions of themselves, convinced their breakthrough is just around the corner. The Rivoli becomes less a venue than a symbol, something fixed in a city that otherwise ignores them. They treat it like destiny, the final boss of Toronto culture.
Seventeen years into the story, plans don’t fail. They misfire spectacularly. And somehow, it still works, and it’s funny.
The time-travel idea, involving a homemade machine and inspired by Back to the Future, might sound wild but follows naturally from their internal logic. If jumping off the CN Tower feels like a reasonable idea, bending time becomes just another logistical hurdle. By folding original footage from the early web series into new scenes, Matt Johnson lets past and present occupy the same frame. Nostalgia isn’t just a reference. It becomes part of the mechanism.
Matt and Jay are not simply chasing a stage. They are protecting a shared delusion. Nearly two decades later, they have not outgrown it so much as amplified it. The comedy moves through reckless schemes and surreal encounters, gradually pulling strangers and the city itself into the performance. Toronto becomes part of the game. The film treats the city as more than scenery: a hyperlocal world of inside jokes, landmarks and a distinctly Canadian sense of humor.
What keeps the whole thing from drifting into pure absurdity is the imbalance at its centre. The comedy comes from the gap between conviction and doubt. One still believes completely in the dream. The other is starting to see the cracks. That small shift gives the comedy weight, letting a hint of vulnerability slip into what might otherwise have been pure farce.
Just as one begins to pull away, time itself pulls them back together. Not sentimentally. Not neatly. Inevitably.
For a moment, it looks like their shared project might not survive adulthood. And yet, it does.
By the end, the Rivoli and success feel beside the point. What matters is that they’re still standing next to each other, still pitching the same impossible plan. Occasionally the world plays along. Not because they deserve it. Because they insist.
Ridiculous? Absolutely. And, against its better judgement, kind of tender.
Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie isn’t about making it. It’s about refusing to exit the frame. Not duty. Not romance. Not obligation. Just two people who keep choosing each other long after the original goal has lost its urgency. Friendship like that rarely follows logic and that’s exactly the point.
Celia Merdji
In cinemas now. Click here for tickets and showtimes
