“You can’t break up something that’s already broken. The only way to destroy it is to actually fix it,” Emily Haines of Metric and Broken Social Scene says in the new music rock doc about BSS, “It’s All Gonna Break.” Or rather, this is something the singer is reminded that she said years and years earlier when asked by the film’s director/cinematographer, Stephen Chung, if Broken Social Scene was breaking up. And to that end, and Haines’ quote, Broken Social Scene, an indie rock collective out of Toronto who launched into the indie stratosphere circa 2002/2003, were constantly breaking up: a big, epic, sprawling, chaotic band of myriad members, instruments and personalities.
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Chung’s documentary, “It’s All Gonna Break”—named after one of the band’s own songs and deeply self-aware of the fragile nature of such an expansive musical collective—traces the rise, fragmentation, and ongoing push-and-pull of a band that often featured 13 members on stage at once, with a total lineup swelling past 25.
But this isn’t a traditional rock doc. While “It’s All Gonna Break” began as a conventional tour documentary during the band’s meteoric ascent in the early 2000s, plans for its release were abruptly shelved in 2007 when the band decided the film lacked a straightforward narrative. Nearly 15 years later, with time and perspective in play, the film re-emerges not just as a story about Broken Social Scene, but as one about Stephen Chung himself—his reconnection with the band, their reconciliation, and the eventual decision to complete a once-abandoned project.
To provide context, in the wake of a stagnant and sanitized mainstream music scene primarily focused on radio play, something electric began happening in Toronto in the early 2000s. Inspired by artists like Peaches—bold, confrontational, and wholly uncensored—Broken Social Scene birthed a sound like spontaneous alchemy: messy, euphoric, and brimming with heart.
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Led by core members Kevin Drew, Brendan Canning, Justin Peroff, Andrew Whiteman, and Charles Spearin, and featuring breakout stars such as Leslie Feist, Emily Haines of Metric, and Stars’ Amy Millan, BSS is a sprawling musical organism. The extended family includes Lisa Lobsinger, Jason Collett, Evan Cranley, Ohad Benchetrit, Sam Goldberg, John Crossingham, Julie Penner, Leon Kingstone, Martin Davis Kinack, James Shaw, David Newfeld, Torquil Campbell, Jo-Ann Goldsmith, and many more.
The exhilarating rush of critical acclaim—becoming indie darlings on Pitchfork, performing at Coachella and Lollapalooza—was thrilling but quickly turned unsustainable. Touring with such a massive lineup became a logistical burden and a nightmare. Members drifted to other projects, or simply to different phases of life, and the band repeatedly hovered near collapse, yet somehow endured for nearly a quarter-century.
The film’s original cancellation was rooted in concerns over its lack of narrative structure—and even now, that flaw persists to some extent. The first half consists primarily of tour footage, candid moments, and early memories. In contrast, the second half shifts focus toward Chung’s personal reckoning with the failed project, his decision to step away to become a father, and his eventual return to finish what he started. Interviews from the present day often pivot toward the documentary’s own process and themes—love, friendship, the passage of time—which, while poignant, don’t always blend seamlessly with the earlier material. Yet despite its unevenness, “It’s All Gonna Break” finds its footing through the very qualities that defined the band: sincerity, rawness, and emotional vulnerability. (Full disclosure: the film includes MTV News interviews I conducted with the band around 2005.)
Loose-limbed, sometimes chaotic, but always heartfelt—much like the band itself—Chung’s documentary lovingly captures the spirit of a group that refused to conform to industry expectations. Though it brought growing pains and fractured paths, the journey was always taken on their own terms. At times overly earnest, the film’s emotional honesty aligns perfectly with its subject: a profoundly human, flawed, and beautiful musical experiment.
More of a treasured time capsule for die-hard fans than a primer for newcomers, nevertheless, “It’s All Gonna Break” remains an authentic portrait of a radiant, messy, and ultimately triumphant collective that defied the odds and stayed alive. [B]