The Bee Gees: How Can You Mend A Broken Heart

For as long as I can remember, music has played an incredibly important role in me and my younger brother’s lives. We both picked up our first instrument in elementary school and since then I always had the dream of playing in a band with him one day. Being two and a half years apart, it never quite worked out for us. He was always a grade too low or at a school too far away and when I watched The Bee Gees: How Can You Mend A Broken Heart (2020, dir. Frank Marshall) for the first time, the regrets of having never played with my brother came flooding back to me. 

This past summer was my brother’s last summer before going to college in New York City so the realization that there weren’t going to be any real possibilities to play with him again hit me like a truck. Coupled with the fact that it was the summer I watched the Bee Gees documentary for the first time, it allowed me to evaluate the film in an entirely different context. The documentary prominently touches on the theme of brotherhood and its importance to The Bee Gees’ longevity throughout the run time and uses relevant, family-focused talking heads — both contemporary and archival — to prove that point. The Brothers Gibb (B.G.s — Bee Gees): Barry, Robin, and Maurice grew up playing music together and in Maurice’s words “often thought [they] were triplets” because of their similar music tastes and senses of humor. They had remained a band from their inception in 1958 until their brief breakup in 1969. Their brotherly bonds caused them to regroup only a few years later, remaining together until the two younger brothers tragically passed away. 

Seeing how Barry Gibb, the eldest Gibb brother, is the only remaining member of the Bee Gees his interviews are the only ones that can be seen in every era of the Bee Gees, right up to modern day. But no matter what time period the interview was from, he always came back to the topic of his brothers. Even having butted heads with them in the past, Gibb knew that their collective success was due to their near-unbreakable familial bonds. Marshall doubles down on this idea in his film by primarily including segments about the Bee Gees as a band and not going into too much depth on their solo careers. If the film had strayed from that core theme and gone into their brief solo careers, I believe that it wouldn’t have the message of brotherhood would have landed as emotionally as it did if there was that sudden, extended detour. 

A surprising but topical talking head that Marshall featured in the film was that of Nick Jonas of another brotherly music unit, the Jonas Brothers. Though he was only in the film for a brief few minutes, his presence solidified the prominent theme of brotherhood that runs through the lifeblood of this film. The filmmakers continued this pattern by selecting another member of a brotherly band, Noel Gallagher of Oasis— a band which he was in with his brother, Liam. “When you’ve got brothers singing, it’s like an instrument that nobody else can buy.” Gallagher’s sentiment interview really reinforces the running theme of brotherhood and gives another perspective on its importance to the Bee Gees’ story and the other familial bands, including Gallagher’s. Oasis had their own falling out and I can only imagine that Gallagher in this interview was funneling his own emotions into his thoughts on the matter —whether that be reminiscence or resentment. 

In a modern day interview, Barry Gibb directly attributes the Bee Gees’ longevity to them being brothers saying, “If we hadn’t been brothers, we wouldn’t have lasted half an hour.” With the band’s growing success and rapid ascent into stardom, they were only bound to clash creatively. Barry and Robin had always butted heads about who was singing lead on any particular song which always led to major disagreements within the band. Maurice was both the self-proclaimed and peer-reviewed “glue” that held the band together both interpersonally and musically. It was mentioned in the film that Barry and Robin would be singing a beautiful two-part harmony and that Maurice would always know where to put his voice to elevate those of his brothers. The fact that each of the brothers had an integral part in the production of their music coupled with their swift adaptation to the changing landscape of music meant that the Bee Gees were here to stay.

The Bee Gees’ iconic sounds and songs reflect their navigation of the changing scene of the music industry every decade. Their transition spanned from the mid 50s Beatles-esque brit pop, to the overnight rise and subsequent fall of disco, to writing songs for high profile artists such as Dolly Parton, Dionne Warwick, and Diana Ross, all the way back to their eventual rise in popularity again in the early 80s and late 90s. Amid breakups and solo careers, most of the accolades that the Brothers Gibb received were due to them being a unit. The film doubles down on this sentiment by focusing on the whole of the Bee Gees’ career instead of one era of their music in particular. The filmmakers could have easily just made an entire documentary on the Saturday Night Fever era of the Bee Gees but the decision to focus on their entire career shined a light on their overall longevity and integrity over decades in the music industry.

The majority of the film barely goes beyond surface level on many of the other important moments of the Bee Gees’ career, highlighting them in a chronological sense but the moments that had the most emotion and heartfelt sincerity behind them were when the ideas of brotherhood were being discussed by the Brothers Gibb or any of their modern influences. While the film omits some of the other aspects of the Bee Gees career due to its focus on brotherhood, the fact that the filmmakers keep coming back to that central theme is a testament to its utmost importance in the Bee Gees’ story. 

The quote that I found to be the most poignant was towards the end of the film where Barry Gibb is reminiscing about his brothers, the time they shared, and reflecting back on their long legacy of stardom. He gets incredibly somber and states, “I’d rather have them all back here and no hits at all.” Coupled with this line being in the conclusion of the film, it cemented the fact to me that their brotherhood was the main part of the story the filmmakers wanted the audience to focus on and that it was indeed the thing that kept The Bee Gees Stayin’ Alive.

The Gibb brothers, otherwise and eponymously known as The Bee Gees, seemed like they knew that they wanted to be famous before they wanted to make music. In The Bee Gees: How Can You Mend a Broken Heart (Marshall, 2020) explores the band from their humble beginnings (their shared childhood) in the 40s to present day where Barry is the sole surviving member of the group, but more importantly, his family.

While The Bee Gees are known as extraordinary singer-songwriters, alongside their music fame is a major theme throughout their careers and the documentary, and can be traced across any one of their Spinal Tap-esque genre changes. Documentarian Frank Marshall manages to portray their desire for stardom without any negative connotation and leaves the viewer in awe and admiration of The Bee Gees and their career. Their pursuit of notoriety is made evident early on in the documentary where Maurice Gibbs states “I remember Barry saying that one day we’re gonna be really famous” (0:04:03). Right from the start, the film and the brothers are transparent about The Bee Gees’ major motivation: not specifically girls, wealth, or accolades, but fame in and of itself.

Far from the sensitive and dedicated artist stories that we’ve come to be used to in music documentaries, The Bee Gees are tied to their music but remarkably adaptable with their stylings. At the beginning of the film, we’re treated to clips of the brothers through previously unreleased home video. The trio started making music at a young age together under guidance of their father Hugh, who columnist Owen Gleiberman aptly describes as “Joe Jackson or the Beach Boys’ dad minus the sadism.” The Bee Gees weren’t some kids playing around with guitars, but a well-oiled machine once they hit the scene during their young adult years where they emulated groups like The Beatles. Their transition from era to era (and genre to genre) is shown to be very smooth progressions moving into each other. At different points in the film, the brothers mention recognizing music trends or the need to stay relevant to culture as a major motivator in their musical decisions. When the Bee Gees came back from their first breakup the music scene had changed, so instead of holding on to their old ways they devised a whole genre pivot and headed to Miami to record (0:39:47). More minute changes are also made to their music for the sake of popularity like when Barry tells the story of the song “Nights on Broadway”,which was originally titled “Lights on Broadway” but changed at the suggestion of a producer.

While their concessions on artistic decisions in exchange for popularity may seem inauthentic and therefore negative on a surface level, none of the Bee Gees' want for fame diminishes their artistic values and aspirations and the documentary does not portray it as such. The film lauds the fact that the brothers proved time and time again that they are resilient, adaptable, and determined to make their music known. Watching the band understand cultural movements and then pivoting themselves to not only align but dominate those changes is watching genius in itself and echoes their seemingly effortless ability to write chart toppers. 

Their talent shines through and as the documentary progresses it leads the viewer to realize that to be as famous as many times as The Bee Gees is a feat in itself. Not only have the brothers created 20 chart-topping singles in the US and UK, but have written over 1,000 songs. Their musical talent is undeniable and the levels they've been able to reach with it is evidence enough. The questing for fame also becomes purer when placed into context of the semi-behind-the-scene songwriting careers Barry and Robin pursued after the disastrous Disco Demolition Night run by fun-hating radio host Steve Dahl. Dahl, a post Saturday Night Fever DJ, decided to condemn disco in its entirety partially due to The Bee Gees’ absolute and long lasting domination over radio. The disco demolition was fatal to their career as a band in the 80s but the brothers still continued on in the industry through their writing. Despite the public suddenly turning on the band, deciding that they were done with The Bee Gees, The Bee Gees weren’t done with music.

The commitment to showing the good and the bad sides of fame by Marshall and the band members themselves creates a feeling of authenticity despite some of the seemingly shallow intentions of the brothers. Barry and Robin’s fight to be in the spotlight is looked back on unfondly but with a touch of humor. At the same time, the devastating and untimely death of Barry’s youngest brother Andy, a Gibb brother turned teen idol, is told with grave respect. 

When Marshall tells Andy’s story he doesn’t shy away from including the part his superstardom played in his passing. While no fingers are pointed at The Bee Gees, everyone involved solemnly admits that the lifestyle of a pop artist is incredibly difficult to maintain in a healthy way and was the major, if not only, contributor to his fatal heart attack. At the end of the film, this becomes all the more poignant with Barry’s closing line: “I’d rather have them all [his brothers] back here and no hits at all”(1:40:54). Still, Barry expresses no regrets, and the sentiment reflects how the relationships with his brothers come first. The moment is poignant and melancholic but not pessimistic, and is thoughtful close to the film that puts fame into perspective.

While the filmmaker’s portrayal of The Bee Gees fame is nuanced, their choice of interviewee’s are less subtle. At times, it seems subjects were chosen for their starpower instead of context or insight. The sincerity of the documentary is undercut in some moments including a bizarre interview with Justin Timberlake and a surprise Ed Sheeran performance- which seems almost topical considering the less than positive popular response he’s had in recent years. In all seriousness though, these two additions seemed out of place at best and at worst, considering Timberlake’s offhand comment about drugs in context of the brothers' history, offensive.

At the same time, the brothers’ talking heads are used masterfully and it's incredible that Robin and Maurice’s interviews exist and are woven so naturally into the film. Unlike other documentaries that rely on posthumous interviews like the recent Wham! film, their inclusion in The Bee Gees is seamless. While The Bee Gees were talented in their own right, the film shows that their commitment to stardom and bringing each other up is what locked in their legacy.

From a young age, brothers Barry, Maurice, and Robin Gibb pined for musical stardom. Before they were the disco-oriented Bee Gees we know today, the Gibb brothers found moderate success in the world of cheery British pop with their clean-cut hair, matching suits, and vaguely psychedelic album art (sound like another famous British band?) By 1970, the band’s popularity waned, so the group revived their careers by pivoting to the hottest new genre: disco. 

Frank Marshall’s 2020 documentary The Bee Gees: How Do You Mend a Broken Heart is first and foremost a career retrospective, tracking the trio’s path through modest pop success to overwhelming disco stardom to legacy status. Considering the hulking scope of this documentary, it is no small feat that Marshall made time to acknowledge the history of disco as a Black and queer genre. Ideally, more time should have been spent on this aspect of the Bee Gees’ career, but it is admirable that Marshall does not completely shy away from the band’s relationship to the genre.

The glitz of the mid 1970s, when the Bee Gees enjoyed the peak of their fame, fits into the overarching narrative of the film as a miraculous Act II career transformation. At the time, white British men took a strong liking to Black American music–so much of a liking that they adopted these sounds and shot to levels of stardom never achieved by their Black predecessors. This “blue-eyed soul” (soul music from white performers) from Elton John, Bobby Caldwell, and others was all the rage, and the Bee Gees were resuscitated with the soul treatment from producer Arif Mardin. As Steven Holden explains in his obituary, Mardin drew on past partnerships with Black R&B artists like Diana Ross, Donnie Hathaway, and Chaka Khan in his work with white groups like The Average White Band and the Bee Gees. 

Although the brothers credited the influence of Otis Redding and other Black musicians in their switch to R&B, their foray into the new genre was not without instances of appropriation. In their first Mardin-produced single, “Jive Talkin’’’, the name alone exhibits the tendency of white artists to co-opt Black culture. In Corey Irwin’s analysis of the song, he explains that the original title was ‘Night Talkin’’, but “...the band members had heard the word “jive” thrown around in clubs and determined they liked it more, even though they weren’t exactly sure what it meant. “We thought jive talkin’ meant that you’re dancing,” Maurice Gibb admitted.” Jive is widely regarded as AAVE, and the use of the word by white musicians would be frowned upon by today’s vernacular standards. 

On the contrary, there are moments when the Bee Gees acknowledge their appropriation and credit their predecessors. Barry’s distinctive falsetto singing voice was discovered by Mardin during their disco era, and while he is one of the most-remembered artists to utilize falsetto, he was not one of its creators. In the film, Maurice recognizes that this “trademark” style was created by Black groups: “Arif brought it out of us, you know we weren’t the first to sing in falsetto…we loved The Stylistics, The Spinners, The Delfonics.” This moment provides some necessary accreditation to Black artists, and it is an instance where the film succeeds in acknowledging the racial context of the Bee Gees’ music.

The Bee Gees used Black language and vocal stylings among other musical choices to brand themselves as disco artists. In the film, Nicky Siano, a veteran DJ at Studio 54, contextualizes their work in the genre with a brief history of dance music. The Bee Gees first became popular with club audiences through their song ‘You Should Be Dancing’, which utilized disco staples like synthesizer melodies, flashy brass sections, and thumping baselines. The song was originally played at same-sex disco clubs where Black and queer people could dance together in public without scrutiny. After it gained traction in the underground club world, record labels wanted to “name it, package it, and sell it” in the words of Siano. 

Through their work on the heavily commercialized Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, the Bee Gees turned disco into a safe, suburban genre. As Tavia Nyong'o puts it, their music eliminated “the pungency of gender, racial, and sexual difference” upon which disco was founded. Nyongo’s entire article is a must-read for those interested in the whitewashing of the genre, and she expertly highlights the discrepancies between the creators and forerunners of disco music versus the public-facing icons remembered in mainstream media as stars of the disco era.

Later in the film, more insight on the relationship between the racialized genre and the Bee Gees is provided through the accounts of Vince Lawrence, an usher working at the 1979 Disco Demolition. This public rejection of disco music via record-burning ended up including more Black music than specifically disco music, and Lawrence describes it as a “racist, homophobic book burning”. For the first time in their career, the Bee Gees would feel the career effects of racial bias simply because they made historically Black music. 

After this event, the band suffered from waning popularity and began to reject the genre that made them famous. Archival footage from 1979 shows Robin saying “Just because you can dance to it doesn’t make it a disco song.” and Barry saying “We’re just a pop group, not a political force.” Their efforts to distance themselves from disco led them to songwriting and other avenues. When public opinion shifted to reject Black queer music, one thing saved the Bee Gees’ careers: they were not Black or queer. 

The Bee Gees may have popularized disco for a wider audience, but their identities do not reflect the people who the genre was created by and for. The Bee Gees capitalized on a predominantly Black and queer music genre to catapult themselves to stardom, and Marshall thankfully begins to inspect the relationship between the band and their appropriated musical subculture in The Bee Gees: How Do You Mend a Broken Heart. Interviews with Nicky Siano and Vince Lawrence contribute to a critical examination of the Bee Gees’ inextricable link to Black music, but it would be helpful if more of the film’s run time was allotted to interviews with Black music historians. 

Despite this critique, it’s essential to note that this film is not a genre deep dive, but a portrayal of the brothers’ entire career arc. Thus, a larger focus on disco would have resulted in a bloated narrative and overly lengthy run time. Viewers looking to probe at the history of the genre should supplement this documentary with external reading, and I encourage them to do so.