It’s not every day a film review makes you want to write a full review for the first time in over a year. But then again, Matt Johnson’s work has a way of doing that. Having already fallen for his previous films like The Dirties, Operation Avalanche, and the critically acclaimed BlackBerry, I was practically buzzing with anticipation for his latest venture, Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie. Knowing he used the success of BlackBerry to fund this passion project, a cinematic adaptation of his web series, only amplified that curiosity.
And honestly? We’re barely into 2026, and I’m already calling it: Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie is the funniest, most clever, and downright entertaining film of the year. It’s the kind of movie that makes you lean forward, nudging your seatmate with a whispered, “How did they even do that?”
For those unfamiliar, the original Nirvanna the Band the Show was a mockumentary sitcom that followed the hilariously inept adventures of Matt Johnson and Jay McCarrol. These two dim-witted Toronto musicians harbored a singular, burning desire: to play a gig at the legendary Rivoli music venue. But calling up the venue? Too simple. Matt, ever the schemer, would concoct elaborate, often absurd plans, which Jay would dutifully accompany with a whimsical piano score, all while camera operators documented their every endeavor and inevitable failure. Jared Raab, a frequent collaborator, was often behind one of those cameras.
The film carries this spirit forward beautifully. Much of Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie sees Matt and Jay politely navigating the world, their ever-present cameramen capturing their interactions with unsuspecting strangers. This isn't about staged pranks; it's about immersing themselves in public spaces, working with a loose script (or perhaps no script at all), and weaving the real people they encounter into the fabric of their narrative. It’s a “ask forgiveness, not permission” approach that injects a palpable sense of fun and spontaneity into the production, reminiscent of Borat or Jackass, but with a distinctively Canadian, less confrontational charm.
Even without prior knowledge of the series, the film is an absolute blast. I saw it twice – once with a friend completely new to Johnson’s style, and again with my fiancée, who has a passing familiarity. Both companions were equally captivated. But understanding the filmmaking process behind it? That’s where the magic truly deepens.
The opening sequence is a prime example. Matt’s audacious plan: scale the CN Tower, snip safety cables, and parachute into the Skydome during a baseball game. It sounds utterly insane, yet they pull it off. They’re inside, parachutes in tow, even fielding a question from a security guard about their pliers (Matt’s flimsy excuse: trimming loose threads). The sheer audacity and the successful execution are mind-boggling, leaving you to ponder the logistics long after the scene ends.
This sense of wonderment continues throughout the film. After the skydiving escapade hits a snag, Matt, inspired by a worn-out copy of Back to the Future, retrofits their RV into a makeshift time machine. His goal? To convince people he’s broken the time-space continuum and that the only way to fix it is for his band, Nirvanna, to play at the Rivoli. Astonishingly, the contraption works, transporting Matt and Jay back to 2008, the very year they first hatched their Rivoli gig plan. Spying on their younger selves offers a chance to explore alternate paths, adding a layer of introspection to the comedic chaos.
I’ll leave the finer plot details and the best punchlines for you to discover. What truly resonates, however, is the film’s heart, which lies in the enduring, albeit strained, friendship between Matt and Jay. Seventeen years of wacky schemes have taken their toll, and Jay is visibly weary of their life on the fringe. The film masterfully balances its outlandish scenarios with a genuine exploration of long-term camaraderie and the pursuit of a shared, albeit peculiar, dream.
