![]() “I think my brothers and I became closest when we found a common ground beyond music and family,” Nick notes, pausing for dramatic effect. Cue the teen-idol megafame and everything that came with it. “But now we’re older.” The trio’s 2007 sophomore album, Jonas Brothers, blew up thanks to the Disney Channel, which played the peppy video for “Year 3000”-a cover of a song from the Brit pop-punk band Busted-practically on a loop. “It was fun when we were young,” goes the chorus of “Rollercoaster,” a falsetto-hooky new tune teased during the documentary’s opening moments. ![]() But you can almost taste it, almost sense it melting. The ice cream, unfortunately, does not appear on camera. “Literally 30 minutes ago, we were crushing ice cream outside Dairy Queen in the sunlight.” How apt that even the sight of that house, and especially that church, would trigger foul weather. “I mean it’s sort of perfect,” Nick notes in the van. Everyone heads for the van but Joe, who for a few seconds just stands there, mesmerized and pissed. “It was a humongous part of our life,” Nick had explained earlier, but their father was cast out, and now they can’t even walk in. The boys, all in their late 20s or early 30s now, walk to that church and mill around at the edge of the lawn, reminiscing with aggrieved looks on their faces. “Feels like we would walk back in there and be 6 or 7 years old.”īy “cult album,” I mean that very few people bought It’s About Time, and the Jonas Brothers’ first record label, Columbia, dropped the band right around the time their father’s church dropped him. ![]() “I mean, it’s even trippier because, like, nothing’s changed about the house at all,” Joe continues. Frozen in time.” The Brothers had written “Please Be Mine,” a tender ballad off their cult 2006 debut album, It’s About Time, right there in that front living room with the red curtain. The Jonases convene at the edge of the street and stare at their old house, striking, subconsciously or otherwise, a photo-shoot superhero pose suffused with grief, as though they’re paying their respects at a war memorial. “I want to see it, too-I’m not just here to, like, be filmed.” (Kevin and his wife, Danielle, starred in a polarizing 2012-13 reality show called Married to Jonas, which makes him an expert in this realm, if possibly only in this realm.) “They’re not even close to being ready,” Kevin protests. “They’ll follow,” Joe calls back, dismissive. Joe bounds out of the van that brought them all here and heads toward the house, unheeding. What Will Be the 2019 Song of Summer? Our Official Guide Presents the Early Contenders. 1 single.) But the documentary radiates a winsome and bracingly sour sort of vulnerability throughout, a bittersweet nostalgia that leads, here amid their childhood stomping grounds, to a little Brotherly bickering. (It has already generated the trio’s first-ever no. Chasing Happiness, released Tuesday, is on the one hand mere self-aggrandizing sponcon for the Jonas Brothers’ unlikely comeback, which will culminate Friday with the release of Happiness Begins, their fifth studio album and first in 10 years. The Jonases are not allowed to film on the property itself, nor the property of the church two doors down, where their father, Kevin Sr., served as pastor until his then-teenage sons’ stratospheric (and secular) music career fouled things up in the mid-2000s. Specifically, we’re on a suburban street outside the modest childhood home of Nick (the extra-hunky one), Joe (the extra-quirky one), and Kevin (the extra-brooding one). The scene takes place in Wyckoff, New Jersey. ![]() It aims for that gravitas, that pathos, that aura of wistful rebellion in the face of time’s inexorable march toward death, toward obliteration. The best scene in Chasing Happiness, Amazon’s gently profound new documentary about the Jonas Brothers, is the boy band equivalent to Johnny Cash’s “Hurt” video. ![]()
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