This is not Spinal Tap, but that’s O.K. Times have changed.  Popular music is a protean and ever-evolving thing, and it can be counted on to yield fresh objects of satire. There is always something new to mock — so much seriousness and silliness, so much sound and spectacle, so much strenuous novelty and lazy cliché, so many anthems and earworms to sample and subvert. Weird Al Yankovic has been lampooning the hits of the day since Michael Jackson was moonwalking. Before him, there was Allan Sherman. More recently, the Lonely Island, sometimes with the assistance of real-life stars like T-Pain, Rihanna and Michael Bolton, has conjured a parallel universe of fat beats and preposterous (but all-too-plausible) player poses.  The group’s best videos — some of which originated as “Saturday Night Live” digital shorts — are among the cultural monuments of our ridiculous young century: “Lazy Sunday”; “Jack Sparrow”; “I’m on a Boat”; the one about the unusual gift in a box. The Lonely Island members — Andy Samberg, Jorma Taccone and Akiva Schaffer — are scholars of hook-driven machismo, with a collective eye for fantasies of masculine cool that is both skeptical and affectionate. A trio of pale, nerdy guys, they intuitively understand the universal appeal, and also the implicit absurdity, of hip-hop-inspired sexual swagger.  The Times critic A. O. Scott reviews “Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping.”  “Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping,” a feature-length fake documentary that sends up everyone from Justin Bieber to Justin Timberlake, does not so much break ground as provide welcome fan service. (Mr. Timberlake has a small role as the main character’s personal chef.) The Lonely Island may be best in small doses, but there is just about enough goofiness here to fill an hour and a half. The performances and videos are the best part, of course — inspired and inventive beats and ballads that have sufficient musical integrity to make them credible jokes. And the film’s structure, which evokes the shiny, breathless vacuity of “all-access” promotional documentaries like “Katy Perry: Part of Me,” does not crowd the riffing and noodling with too much plot or sentiment.  Nonetheless, there is a story, the usual behind-the-music arc of rise, fall and redemption. We meet Conner4Real (Mr. Samberg) as he prepares to release his second solo album. Formerly a member of the Style Boyz — a trio more Beastie than Backstreet — Conner has reached a hazardous point in his career. Sanctimoniously devoted to his fans and proud of his down-to-earthness (his biggest hit is a song called “Humble”), he has nonetheless clearly forgotten where he came from. One of the other Style Boyz, Owen (Mr. Taccone), has been relegated to sidekick status on Conner’s tours. The other, Lawrence (Mr. Schaffer), has retreated to a farm in Colorado.  To some extent, this situation is a dark mirror of the Lonely Island’s own fate. Mr. Samberg has been its breakout star, with solo projects that include the Fox sitcom “Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” Tall and square-jawed, he is handsome enough to look the “Popstar” part. But his rubbery features and gaptoothed grin can also remind you of your most obnoxious bunkmate at summer camp. Mr. Taccone and Mr. Schaffer seem to have long since made their peace with being the less charismatic members of the outfit, but they are also quick and clever ensemble players. They also share the directing credit.  A preview of the film.  The ensemble is huge, as is customary when sketch material swells to feature length. Tim Meadows plays Conner’s manager, Sarah Silverman his publicist and Chris Redd is the rapper who becomes his opening act and then his rival. A dozen or so well-known comic performers show up, mostly “S.N.L.” alumni, and at least as many real-life musicians, playing themselves and mostly bearing witness to the enduring influence of the Style Boyz.  Their testimony represents the movie’s slyest joke and its most revealing fantasy. Nearly all these musicians — they include Questlove, RZA, Usher, Nas — are black, and members of the unimpeachable hip-hop and R&B royalty that young white men like Conner, Owen and Lawrence (which is also to say the guys who play them) would grow up idolizing. “Popstar” reverses the idolatry, which is hilarious on its face and also a gesture in the direction of some of the cultural taboos and conundrums that stretch back through the history of American popular music from Eminem to Elvis Presley to the arrival of the banjo.  But the Lonely Island does not traffic in trenchant topical satire. Not on purpose, anyway. “Popstar” takes aim at everything that is artificial and plastic in contemporary pop in a spirit of love rather than spite. It’s a celebration of the curious authenticity — the innocence, the sweetness, the guiltless pleasure — of music whose badness is sometimes hard to separate from its genius.  “Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping” is rated R (Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian). Not-safe-for-radio versions of songs with lyrics that kids would figure out even if they heard them in the car. Running time: 1 hour 27 minutes.  Directors Akiva Schaffer, Jorma Taccone  Writers Andy Samberg, Akiva Schaffer, Jorma Taccone  A version of this review appears in print on June 3, 2016, on page C1 of the New York edition with the headline: A Pop Star So Bad, and That’s 4 Real. Order Reprints| Today's Paper|Subscribe
The Lonely Island trio has created a mockumentary featuring the fictional Conner4Real, a former boy-band star trying to make it as a solo act.