When Milli Vanilli emerged 35 years ago, the pop music landscape changed forever. Their rise and fall may seem trivial to a generation who grew up with celebrities doing lip-sync battles on television, but the duo were at the centre of one of the generation's biggest music scandals. After years of articles, interviews and the even the first-ever VH1 Behind the Music episode explored the controversy, there is still plenty left to unpack.
Premiering on Paramount+, Luke Korem's latest documentary, Milli Vanilli, illustrates how time brings clarity. Just as band member Fabrice "Fab" Morvan is flooded with memories when reflecting on pictures he hasn't seen in years, the documentary plays like a time warp for those of us who experienced it all in real-time.
In exploring the events that led to the infamous lip-sync scandal, the documentary shows that, while the world may have vilified Milli Vanilli, the two men at the core were arguably victims themselves.
When Morvan met future bandmate Rob Pilatus in Munich at 18 years old, the two young men bonded instantly over their love of dancing and music. Each had endured tough childhoods, were homeless, and knew what it was like to be one of the few one of few Black men in a predominantly white society. Despite the hardships, they shared a dream of making it big as musicians. Going from backup dancers on a popular television program to forming their own band, Empire Bizarre, they knew that they were close to cracking the code to stardom.
They had the look and the moves — they just needed a producer who could propel them past the final leg up the mountain towards fame. Enter Frank Farian, the man who helped Boney M. — a German disco band that had their own lip-syncing allegations to deal with — rocket to international stardom.
Seeing the potential in Morvan and Pilatus, Farian and his right-hand woman Ingrid "Milli" Segieth, his secretary and girlfriend, signed the duo to a contract that neither man read fully. According to Morvan, it was Farian who presented them with the song "Girl You Know It's True" and asked them to lip-sync over it in a music video and during live performances. If they refused, they would have to pay back all the money they had received from the deal, a point that Segieth seems to dispute when interviewed by Korem.
Whether coerced or done willingly, the men played their parts thinking it would be a one-time thing. However, when Farian released the track in Europe, "Girl You Know It's True" became a hit, and Milli Vanilli experienced success beyond their wildest imagination.
One of the recurring themes in Milli Vanilli is the addictive nature of fame. As the group's songs started to dominate the charts worldwide and the pressures to keep their secret mounted, the allure of celebrity was too enticing to pass up. The duo came from nothing and suddenly had everything offered up on a shiny platter.
While Morvan acknowledges his and Pilatus's role in the scandal, the film makes it clear that the punishment and humiliation they ultimately received from fans and the media didn't fit the crime. The documentary carefully shows how everyone, from Farian to music guru Clive Davis to the folks at Arista Records, all played a crucial role in perpetuating the lie. However, they never faced the same vitriol as Morvan and Pilatus.
As Korem documents the harsh reaction to the duo once their secret was revealed and how Farian systematically constructed the ruse, Milli Vanilli contemplates the ways Black artists are manipulated, exploited and discarded in pop music. The deception wasn't a problem when everyone was making money off of the duo — their debut album All or Nothing (Girl You Know It's True in North America) sold 8 million copies and was one of the biggest debuts of the time — yet they were discarded once the gravy train dried up.
The fact that Farian had a history of using the same deceitful formula with other Black artists, like Boney M., makes the fall of the duo, and the tragedy that came after, even more heartbreaking.
Milli Vanilli doesn't absolve fans of the part they played, either. Korem's film touches on the importance that we all play in wanting to believe our pop stars are something beyond human. We want to buy into the image being sold, even if it's just a mirage.
Capturing the heavy price that comes with an addiction to fame, Milli Vanilli offers a cautionary tale that recontextualizes a band that few really knew. Featuring interviews with Morvan (Pilatus sadly died of an overdose in 1998, as Milli Vanilli readied a comeback), Segieth, "Downtown" Julie Brown, Timbaland, Diane Warren, other key industry players, and the artist who actually sang the hit songs, the film offers a well-rounded look at an infamous moment in music history.
While the documentary will travel plenty of familiar terrain for viewers of a certain age, there are more than enough nuggets of insight to maintain interest. You can "Blame It on the Rain," but Korem makes it clear we all carry some responsibility.
(Paramount Pictures)Premiering on Paramount+, Luke Korem's latest documentary, Milli Vanilli, illustrates how time brings clarity. Just as band member Fabrice "Fab" Morvan is flooded with memories when reflecting on pictures he hasn't seen in years, the documentary plays like a time warp for those of us who experienced it all in real-time.
In exploring the events that led to the infamous lip-sync scandal, the documentary shows that, while the world may have vilified Milli Vanilli, the two men at the core were arguably victims themselves.
When Morvan met future bandmate Rob Pilatus in Munich at 18 years old, the two young men bonded instantly over their love of dancing and music. Each had endured tough childhoods, were homeless, and knew what it was like to be one of the few one of few Black men in a predominantly white society. Despite the hardships, they shared a dream of making it big as musicians. Going from backup dancers on a popular television program to forming their own band, Empire Bizarre, they knew that they were close to cracking the code to stardom.
They had the look and the moves — they just needed a producer who could propel them past the final leg up the mountain towards fame. Enter Frank Farian, the man who helped Boney M. — a German disco band that had their own lip-syncing allegations to deal with — rocket to international stardom.
Seeing the potential in Morvan and Pilatus, Farian and his right-hand woman Ingrid "Milli" Segieth, his secretary and girlfriend, signed the duo to a contract that neither man read fully. According to Morvan, it was Farian who presented them with the song "Girl You Know It's True" and asked them to lip-sync over it in a music video and during live performances. If they refused, they would have to pay back all the money they had received from the deal, a point that Segieth seems to dispute when interviewed by Korem.
Whether coerced or done willingly, the men played their parts thinking it would be a one-time thing. However, when Farian released the track in Europe, "Girl You Know It's True" became a hit, and Milli Vanilli experienced success beyond their wildest imagination.
One of the recurring themes in Milli Vanilli is the addictive nature of fame. As the group's songs started to dominate the charts worldwide and the pressures to keep their secret mounted, the allure of celebrity was too enticing to pass up. The duo came from nothing and suddenly had everything offered up on a shiny platter.
While Morvan acknowledges his and Pilatus's role in the scandal, the film makes it clear that the punishment and humiliation they ultimately received from fans and the media didn't fit the crime. The documentary carefully shows how everyone, from Farian to music guru Clive Davis to the folks at Arista Records, all played a crucial role in perpetuating the lie. However, they never faced the same vitriol as Morvan and Pilatus.
As Korem documents the harsh reaction to the duo once their secret was revealed and how Farian systematically constructed the ruse, Milli Vanilli contemplates the ways Black artists are manipulated, exploited and discarded in pop music. The deception wasn't a problem when everyone was making money off of the duo — their debut album All or Nothing (Girl You Know It's True in North America) sold 8 million copies and was one of the biggest debuts of the time — yet they were discarded once the gravy train dried up.
The fact that Farian had a history of using the same deceitful formula with other Black artists, like Boney M., makes the fall of the duo, and the tragedy that came after, even more heartbreaking.
Milli Vanilli doesn't absolve fans of the part they played, either. Korem's film touches on the importance that we all play in wanting to believe our pop stars are something beyond human. We want to buy into the image being sold, even if it's just a mirage.
Capturing the heavy price that comes with an addiction to fame, Milli Vanilli offers a cautionary tale that recontextualizes a band that few really knew. Featuring interviews with Morvan (Pilatus sadly died of an overdose in 1998, as Milli Vanilli readied a comeback), Segieth, "Downtown" Julie Brown, Timbaland, Diane Warren, other key industry players, and the artist who actually sang the hit songs, the film offers a well-rounded look at an infamous moment in music history.
While the documentary will travel plenty of familiar terrain for viewers of a certain age, there are more than enough nuggets of insight to maintain interest. You can "Blame It on the Rain," but Korem makes it clear we all carry some responsibility.
