A big city, cheap rent, abundant talent, small egos and a disregard for commercial success. There were so many elements that went into making Broken Social Scene that it's amazing that they exist at all. Yet, the friendships of its sprawling membership — the literal social scene — have always been the Toronto collective's foundation. According to It's All Gonna Break, a new documentary about their early years and first brush with fame, that's as true today as it was at the beginning.
Mixing footage from the band's formative years with current-day interviews, filmmaker Stephen Chung chronicles their genesis, from Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning's early projects to their initial meeting, the slow absorption of players into the BSS orbit, and their eventual explosion into international indie rock stars.
Like the band's career, the film really takes off with You Forgot It in People. Chung captures classics like "Stars and Sons" as they take shape in the studio under the helpful tutelage of producer Dave Newfeld. Watching one track transform from a Dinosaur Jr. ripoff (literally called "The Dinosaur Jr. Song") into "Almost Crimes" after arrangement suggestions from Newfeld and James Shaw is truly thrilling to watch.
You Forgot It In People catapulted the band to a level of renown few could have imagined for an amorphous collective from Toronto. It was also a high tide that lifted the boats of everybody's main gig: Stars, Feist, Metric, Do Make Say Think and more. But that created a situation where who was on stage at any single gig was anybody's guess.
Compounding the pressure, the transitory nature of the group's lineup also meant that their follow-up was being written and recorded piecemeal, whenever members made it to the studio between their busy schedules. As It's All Gonna Break's title suggests, the band eventually hit a wall and had to pump the brakes on the whole thing.
Chung's access to the band at such a formative point in their career is unparalleled. The studio footage and images from tours around the world showcase just how good at harnessing chaos the group could be, including one gig where they recruited horn players off the street hours before the gig. He's similarly able to recruit all the key players, including Drew, Canning, Feist, Shaw, Emily Haines, Amy Millan, Justin Peroff, Andrew Whiteman, Charles Spearin, Evan Cranley and Dave Newfeld for their reflections.
But his proximity ensures that, if there is tea to be spilled, it's not happening here. In the present-day interviews, everyone keeps it professional and effusive in their praise of the group. It would have been nice to see more group interviews; the conversation between Feist and Canning is charming and shows off the chemistry that still exists between them today.
To Chung's credit, he leans into his personal biases. There is a version of It's All Gonna Break that has existed since 2007. Chung presented a rough cut to the band for consideration, but they ultimately rejected it. There wasn't enough of a story they said. Chung uses that rejection as a framing device. Like everyone in the BSS orbit, Chung was as much of a friend as he was a chronicler of the band, and the rejection weighed heavily on him for years. It was only through his determination to resurrect the project, this time with the benefit of some distance, that all this footage saw the light of day.
BSS are an iconic indie rock band, but they're also a group of friends like countless others. Some find success, people fall in and out of love, priorities change and relationships drift. But the bonds remain, and, when you come back together, it's like no time has passed.