It was 1975 when Georgios “Yog” Panayiotou, then 11, and Andrew Ridgley, then 12, met as schoolboys in Hertfordshire, England. What then felt like a random connection later unfolded into a deep kinship. Because, besides having immigrant dads (one Greek-Cypriot, the other Italian-Egyptian), they later discovered their common flair for music. Naturally, collaborations ensued. In 1979, Yog and Andy formed a ska band, called The Executive. Save for a slapdash take on Beethoven’s Für Elise, that act obviously never caught on. So, the two split the group and continued as a duo. And, of course, that band needed a new identity.

It wasn’t until the early ‘80s when the rebrand attempts began. They agreed that the new name should concurrently capture both their individual spirits and their strong bond. In other words, it had to be fun. Luckily, the epiphany came randomly, as it should, and at a dance club, no less. Amidst that night’s revelries, Yog heard Andy randomly yell “Wham, Bam!”  Consequently, a pop act was formed.

Fresh from his hit Netflix documentaries Fyre: The Greatest Party that Never Happened (2019), and “Sr.”(2022), Sundance-winning director Chris Smith returns with Wham!. It’s as intimate and straightforward as it gets. The eponymous film chronicles the career of the pop act, from its ascent to stardom in 1982 to its slow-and-steady curtain call in 1986. But if you’re looking for third-party testimonies, look elsewhere. It’s the story of Wham, told only by Wham, no one else. That, of course, can be limiting in parts.  

Released 40 years after their debut album, Fantastic, this documentary vetoes the need for talking heads. Instead, it’s told through soundbites of the late Yog, who had since taken on the Anglicized moniker George Michael, and Ridgeley, who recorded additional commentary. Their voiceovers were then meticulously hemmed with archive footage, photos, and rare outtakes, and structured from 50 scrapbooks lovingly compiled by Ridgeley’s mom. It’s the treasure trove of mementos that tell the tale, and the nostalgia does flow.  

As expected, the film excels in recounting their song’s backstories, from how Club Tropicana went through several rejections to how a handwritten note inspired Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. The most fascinating bit would be the trajectory of Careless Whisper, which went through several rehashes before the group was even formed. Even with the iconic Jerry Wexler on board as producer at some point, George lobbied for his own vision. So, for all intents and purposes, it was his first major opus as a solo act. At that point, even Andrew knew: a new chapter beckoned.

Unlike most band break-up stories, theirs didn’t happen with bad blood. They just knew something has run its course, especially Andrew, who had witnessed George coming to terms with his sexuality at the cusp of their breakthrough and, eventually, his aspirations to become his own icon. At that point, they were being pulled separate directions, which was not necessarily a bad thing. One had it with fame, while the other sought more. So, come final act, we see Andrew easing into the background, preferring to cheer on George instead. Thus, there’s a new layer of bittersweetness in seeing their farewell concert clips.

Again, there are restraints in focusing on merely their point of view. We miss out on the extent of their cultural impact, or who they are as family or industry colleagues. Yet, it’s that very limitation that makes this piece so potent. The intent was to look inward and not outward. And much as the audience might have wanted more, that’s really all there is to the saga.   

As the credits roll, we’re neither offered glimpses of George’s solo career nor his eventual tragic fate. And that’s how it should be. More than MTV or VH1 fodder, this is a reflection of a bygone era and what it meant to the subjects’ lives. More importantly, it’s about mature friendship – one that endured diverging paths.

Wham! is now streaming on Netflix.