In their own way, Take That are as fascinating a British working-class success story as Oasis. That becomes evident as you watch the new \ufeffthree-part Netflix \ufeffdocuseries, Take That<\/b>, about the northern boyband. It\u2019s all here\ufeff. The creation: the group \u2013 \ufeffGary Barlow, Robbie Williams, Mark Owen, Jason Orange\ufeff and Howard Donald \ufeff\u2013 were put together by manager\ufeff \ufeffNigel Martin-Smith\ufeff as a vehicle for singer-songwriter\ufeff Barlow. \ufeff The early scrabble for success\ufeff: Barlow continuing his solo gigs at the \ufefflocal\ufeff Royal British Legion, \ufeffcrooning The Phantom of the Opera\ufeff\ufeff, then gyrating \ufeffhis oiled, Lycra-clad body with Take That.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n The glory: \ufeffmore than 45\ufeffm records, sell-out arena tours\ufeff and hits such as Back \ufefffor Good and Pray\ufeff (\u201cWe were all working-class lads given the golden ticket,\u201d says Williams). The disasters\ufeff: leaving the \ufeffgroup in the mid-1990s, the hugely successful Williams trash-talked his erstwhile bandmates \u2013 particularly Barlow \u2013 with vicious glee. After Take That split in \ufeff1996,\ufeff Barlow spent years in the pop\ufeff wilderness, developing bulimia, piling on weight (\u201cI killed the pop star\u201d).<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Then\ufeff the triumphant comeback(s) as a four-piece, a five-piece (Williams rejoining for a bit)\ufeff and the current three-piece\ufeff (Orange retired in 2014).\ufeff Well, you know the story. This is a problem for the series: anybody, myself included, with a \ufeffsoft spot for the greatest-ever UK boyband \ufeffcould recite the Take That narrative in their sleep.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n And where the feck are they? \ufeffThe docuseries is made by David Soutar\ufeff, who \ufeffco-directed 2018\u2019s hilarious Bros: After \ufeffthe Screaming Stops\ufeff<\/i> (considered the This Is Spinal Tap<\/i> of pop documentaries). Here, however, it\u2019s notable that Take That don\u2019t appear\ufeff as talking heads on screen. It\u2019s wall-to-wall footage, spliced together\ufeff with new audio interviews from Barlow, Donald and Owen, and with Williams and Orange heard in older clips.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Is this enough? With the heritage music industry in full swing, there\u2019s been a plethora of 1990s\/\ufeff2000s documentaries, from band profiles (\ufeffTake That: For \ufeffthe Record\ufeff<\/i>, Boyzone: No Matter What\ufeff<\/i>) to overviews \ufeff(Boybands\u00a0Forever<\/i>)\ufeff. We\u2019ve also seen the rise of the big, celebrity-documentary, PR-approved \u201cconfessionals\u201d with personal flourishes, including Williams lounging\u00a0in his undies for \ufeffRobbie Williams<\/i> (2023)\ufeff. He was also portrayed as a CGI monkey in the Hollywood biopic\u00a0\ufeffBetter Man<\/i> (2024).<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n By contrast, Take That<\/i> feels like a cobbled-together home movie. It boasts rare early footage and it is unafraid to face boyband demons: egos (Barlow admits to feeling superior to the others, initially hogging the songwriting and royalties)\ufeff, mental health (after the split, Donald considered jumping into the \ufeffThames) and guilt (\u201cI never ever considered that the most insecure and emotional person in the band was Robbie,\u201d\ufeff reflects\u00a0Barlow).<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n There\u2019s \ufeffan element of rushed homework to\ufeff the docuseries\ufeff, but the footage-first approach whizzes along\ufeff with none of the usual drag of watching celebrities navel-gazing on neutral hued sofas in flattering diffused\u00a0lighting. If Take That<\/i> has undermined the increasingly wearying \u201cm\ufeffy b\ufeffig \ufeffglossy \ufeffdoc\u201d template, it\u2019s done us all a favour.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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