John Chu's account of Bieber's rise from YouTube urchin to arena-packing teen Adonis is as impeccably groomed as our hero's hairdo, but that's fine - anyone looking for a gritty, warts-and-all Bieber bio is probably a miserable shit. It's a decent pop spectacle: big songs, adorable backstage horseplay, and some genuinely surprising demonstrations of talent. The third quarter gets a little bogged down in throat drama: phlegm, swollen vocal cords, cancelled concerts. Nobody wants to see Bieber lying on a couch, sullenly tweeting. Prepare for tween hysterics. The matinee screening I caught was only half full, but engulfed in constant shrieking. Some of the screams came from the sound system, but most were right there in the room. A few - like the squeals that arose when Justin busted a slo-mo hair flip in glorious Real 3D - may have come from my own mouth. If you're a pop fan, a chicken hawk, or a 14-year-old girl, Never Say Never is a sure thing. If not, you'll probably come away a little of each.
