Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Ariana Grande: Excuse Me, I Love You’ on Netflix, A Concert Film That Captures The Joy Aura Surrounding The Platinum Pop Star

Ariana Grande exists in a bubble of palpable energy, like Glinda The Good Witch gone glitch. In her Netflix concert film Excuse Me, I Love You, the biggest songs from Sweetener and Thank U, Next are delivered at full-energy levels alongside some behind-the-scenes chatter.

ARIANA GRANDE: EXCUSE ME, I LOVE YOU: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: Excuse Me, I Love You consists largely of concert footage from the London stops on Ariana Grande’s 101-date Sweetener World Tour, which wound its way through North America and Europe for most of 2019. Interspersed with the performances are documentary-style segments that capture Grande backstage, before the show, hanging with her dancers, or having her high pony wrangled. This isn’t a group to be seen poppin’ bottles pre-show. These are professionals here to do work, and appropriately the opening set of the show itself is choreo-heavy. Emerging from the darkness on a lift at center stage, Grande and her 12 dancers appear draped across a long table in a Da Vinci’s Last Supper motif, with the star at center axis singing Sweetener‘s Platinum-selling single “God Is a Woman.” They begin to writhe, shift positions, and the set quickly leaps into “Bad Idea” and “Break Up With Your Girlfriend, I’m Bored.” This tour is about hits and bangers, one after the other, and cutaways reveal a crowd in ecstatic revelry. In excelsis Deo, glory to Grande in the Highest.

The material from Sweetener and 2019’s Thank U, Next is for the most part blippy, stuttering dance-pop with lots of space in the arrangements for Grande’s trademark trills and vocal runs. She hits all of those notes live, to the point that her vocal is the hottest thing in the live mix, though an onstage band of drums, guitar, keys and electronics does produce a good bit of volume. This is Grande’s show, though, and that of her dancers, who are a whirlwind of synchronized, herky-jerky, high-stepping movement. The frequent guest shots from hip-hop major leaguers like Nicki Minaj and Big Sean are piped in over the monitors, but even if they weren’t, those parts appear, shouted to the rafters by the audience. “Gun pop and I make my gum pop; I’m the queen of rap, Ariana run pop.”

With numerous costume changes revolving around a theme of thigh-high stiletto-heeled Versace boots, there’s visual pizzaz to match the music’s buoyancy, and in the doc sections of Excuse Me, I Love You, Grande proves to be a bundle of youthful verve, clip-on lashes and determined professionalism, forever thinking about her next moment on stage, giving it all to the fans.

Performance Worth Watching: During “You’ll Never Know,” Ariana descends from the main stage for a touch-the-fans moment with the Arianators inside the audience pit, and the camera catches one kid who embodies the vibe of this lucky group. He’s singing along with each lyrical trill, eyes shuttling between hysterically squinched shut and straight popping out of his skull because his fingers are touching his queen as she sings. His iPhone is clutched in his other hand, filming as he holds in front of half his face, and its glittery case matches the charms glued to Grande’s cheeks. One of the fluttering play money C-notes from the set’s earlier run through “7 Rings” sticks out from his fist. This kid’s nickname should be “High Pony.”

Memorable Dialogue: Scott and Brian Nicholson are a twin brother pair who feature heavily in the Ariana Grande universe as her BFFs as well as principal choreographers and creative directors. During one between-song segment, the camera follows Scott as he is led by security to the upper reaches of the arena. He’s searching for a fan to give main floor tickets to, and we learn this is a tour tradition. “We have a criteria,” Nicholson says. “We like a single parent with their kid. Definitely someone dressed crazy. Somebody already practicing the choreography in their seats; a superfan.” “Drag queens,” Another dancer adds. “Drag queens are really good.” Cut to Nicholson and Grande’s mother Joan gifting a grateful woman a set of the primo tickets as her youngest daughter melts down with joyous emotion.

Sex and Skin: Grande and her dancers are an immaculately lithe bunch.

Our Take: Excuse Me, I Love You is admirably performance-heavy. While the snippets of crosstalk and behind-the-scenes chatter are fun, and will certainly be revealing for fans (the choreography rehearsals are particularly interesting), it’s a thrill to see and hear all of the singer’s most giant singles come to life onstage, complete with that elaborate choreo to go with each one. Grande works hard, singing as she hits each mark alongside her dancers, draping herself along the lip of the stage for the audience pit to drool over, and periodically moving to the B-stage or runway to be spotlit in all of her pop star glory. Her recent material is a mixture of empowering personhood and the celebration of a certain brand of bling-forward lifestyle, and that’s the vibe in the room for the entirety of the show. This is music and star power met well within a dynamic live setting, no smoke and mirrors necessary.

While its direction is as straightforward as the material deserves, there are some nifty editing touches. A dancer on the catwalk uses a handheld camera to capture Grande in jittery verite; slow motion edits drop in here and there to capture the high pony in a sweeping turn, or someone firing fake dolla dolla bills out of a money gun into strobe-lit smoke. And as we are introduced to the various performers and support staff in Grande’s tour circle, the assortment of onscreen captions are charmingly first-person, as if Grande herself scrawled them with a sparkly pen in the margins of a yearbook. Allison Kaye isn’t just the president of SB Projects; she’s a “bad bitch.” When the singer herself is seen disembarking from the tour jet, perhaps having been overserved, the caption reads “Still drunk; who am I waving to?” These little touches are endearing, and help demystify the pop star whose public persona is one of perpetually posing in elaborate makeup and boots that touch the sky.

Our Call: STREAM IT, ‘cause this one’s for the Arianators. Excuse Me, I Love You sprinkles in some behind-the-scenes intimacy, but the bulk of this film is performative. At its heart, it’s a tour document for the heads who couldn’t be there.

Johnny Loftus is an independent writer and editor living at large in Chicagoland. His work has appeared in The Village Voice, All Music Guide, Pitchfork Media, and Nicki Swift. Follow him on Twitter: @glennganges

Watch Excuse Me, I Love You on Netflix