Joel on Film

The ability for a movie to leave viewers in a constant state of wondering how in the world the filmmakers pulled off the various jokes within it is an underrated pleasure, if only because the sensation comes along so rarely and is actually achieved even less commonly. The makers of Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie pull it off every 20 minutes or so, and because each successive big visual gag—borne of conceptualization that promises a gag of the magnitude being delivered—is so unique, it’s sort of a difficult movie to review without giving some of them away. That’s the funny thing about the phenomenon of “spoiler” culture.

Simply mentioning, for instance, that the two protagonists begin their wild and wacky journey by planning to jump from the Canadian National tower in Toronto and soar straight into the Skydome of Rogers Centre provides absolutely no information about the jaw-drop thrill of seeing it happen. Later, these two hapless fellows embark upon an even riskier and funnier plan, borrowed from their favorite movie, which lands them in a Toronto of the distant past—specifically, 2008, when Matt (Matt Johnson) and Jay (Jay McCarrol) plotted their first of many silly plans. That was the origin of their deeply abiding friendship, which remains strong 17 years later.

Now might be a good time to mention that the movie and its amusingly elaborate title spun off from a show created by the two stars, who have also written whatever amounts to a screenplay for this big-screen treatment. “Nirvanna the Band the Show” wasn’t too well-known beyond its Canadian TV run, though, so Johnson (who also directed) and McCarrol (who also composed the score) wisely don’t lean too heavily upon any necessary prior awareness. This critic, who was unaware entirely of the series before the movie’s buzzy festival run in 2025 and unable to partake, had no problems keeping up with everything.

The concept here is that Matt and Jay are being filmed by an incredibly faithful cameraman (who, it is implied, has remained in their company for all 17 years in the interim between the end of the show and now) in their attempt to play the Rivoli, a local theatre company, by simply announcing a show there and hoping for the best. That’s already funny, but it’s even funnier that they’re still at it after all this time, with Matt plotting things out on a trusty whiteboard and never losing hope that somehow, someday, that performance will happen. The internal conflict here is that the wait is really starting to get to Jay.

After the CN Tower stunt doesn’t quite work the way they hoped, Jay tries to go off and plan something of his own, which is where the real problems start for these two. An amusing implication of the plot is that this friendship might actually be holding the very fabric of reality together. Naturally, it splits apart at the first sign of trouble.

That’s what happens when Jay, initially just wanting to make a quick exit, drives fast enough to transport himself and Matt, an unintentional stowaway, back in time to 2008, where Johnson, as director, takes advantage of the setting to give us a few telling cultural landmarks. They range from pretty obvious—a poster for a recently released superhero epic—to discomfortingly amusing—a pair of advertisements for disgraced media figures—though the funniest one is itself a minor but significant comic achievement. Let’s just say it manages to craft a big guffaw out of a disreputable modern comedy “classic” and, specifically, how deeply unfunny it actually was.

There is a shaggy-dog quality to this whole thing, which means that Johnson and McCarrol aren’t really setting out to make some Big Grand Point—and, well, they sort of don’t. The actual point of the movie is to force the friends apart in the grandest way possible and then use this silly scenario to force them to confront the actual fabric of their friendship. Maybe that’s deep enough to inform the performances from the actors here, especially the more ruminative McCarrol—though, obviously, we’re talking about the little moments when the movie lets the actors breathe.

The real accomplishment of Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie is that it is very, very funny and often outrageously so. That’s especially true in the movie’s most gut-busting moment, which would be sort of cruel to reveal in its entirety: It’s an old standby, though, involving an alternate reality, sudden global fame, a lavish tour bus and a very real weapon confused for a toy—you know, the typical ingredients for the funniest on-screen movie joke in a long, long time.

Rating: ***½ (out of ****)