Sia wrote the film with children’s book author and inspirational Instagrammer Dallas Clayton, a hash of a script that never feels sourced in anything true. The film merely gestures toward tangible, credible life in its flurry of aggressive whimsy. YouTube stars these days
often talk of authenticity as being the true commodity of the present day; though drenched in YouTube-y color,
Music presents as the furthest thing from authentic.
Sia makes a jaw-dropping cameo, as Sia, in the film—she was unable, it seems, to protect even herself from her movie’s toxic gravity. By the point she arrives, it has become clear that Music is not actually the focus of
Music at all. She is merely ancillary window dressing, much like Leslie Odom, Jr.’s wise immigrant boxing instructor character, Ebo. Even Zu’s life, her struggles with addiction and other self-destruction, don’t seem to be the central care of the film.
Music is really about its creators’ own vanity, an advertisement for Sia’s and Clayton’s brands. “The people who made this are good and magical,” the film insists in every frame, even as it makes one ugly, unforgivable blunder after another.
Music is a song best left unplayed—spare your ears, your mind, and your heart the trouble