ALISON BOSHOFF: The Take That documentary that makes you wonder how so many parts of the 1990s pop culture passed the sniff test

We’ve all seen the early days of Take That and looked back with some embarrassment at the infamous bare butt jelly video and the stage outfits with metal crotch guards still worn by sweet-faced teenage boys.

In fact, the further you get from the early 1990s, the more you wonder how some parts of popular culture pass the sniff test.

The new three-part Take That documentary on Netflix cleverly plays on this reassessment; It not only revisits now commonplace footage, but also uses previously unseen video, and it’s remarkable how young these kids were when they were first brought together in 1990.

Some of the documentary’s most affecting moments are seen through the viewfinder of a shaky video camera shot by ‘Howard “Steven Spielberg” Donald, as 16-year-old Robbie Williams calls him.

It shows budding stars quickly becoming true friends before they taste any success.

Here’s Gary Barlow, 19, being mocked for his Calvin Klein trousers as he dances in a dingy little dressing room, while others say they’re making a change from his usual £3.99 four-pack.

You see the eldest, 22-year-old Howard, proudly driving a Hyundai van, which is how they arrived at some of their first gigs, some of which simply involved dancing and singing along to a tape in the school corridors.

The program, which will begin airing on Tuesday, comes almost exactly 30 years after the band first disbanded.

In the documentary, Gary describes years of binge eating that led to bulimia as he tried to “kill the pop star”

Now in their 50s, Take That’s three remaining members – Gary, Mark Owen and Howard – believe being in one of the most successful bands of all time almost destroyed them.

Howard recalls that after the band broke up in 1996, when he was just 27, he went to the River Thames with the intention of killing himself.

‘It hit me the hardest,’ she says, ‘because I was thinking: “Well, what do I do now? I was just trained to be a pop star, you know, spray some paint.”

‘So it affected me quite a bit. You get home and you just kind of can’t believe it. ‘My state of mind at the time was I seriously thought I wanted to jump into the Thames and kill myself but I’m too stupid to do that.’

And it’s not just Howard. Gary describes years of binge eating that led to bulimia as he tried to ‘kill the pop star’.

For years after the band broke up in 1996 and then left the label in 1999, he says he would go to his home studio, close the door, and pretend to write music.

‘I would literally sit there and watch the piano and think: ‘I used to write great hits on this thing.’ The piano was now our enemy. I would sit there and look at the clock, and at four I would come out and say: “It was a beautiful day.” This is very bad and has gone on for years.’

Gary, now 54, says: ‘I remember the sharper parts of our story and it’s only now that we can look back and see what we went through.’

Admiring fans see the band in its prime. There is even footage of a distraught fan being taken away in an ambulance after collapsing on the news of their disbandment in 1996.

The band, as anyone who was a teenager in the 1990s can tell you, was formed after Manchester-based impresario Nigel Martin-Smith published an advert.

As anyone who was young in the 1990s can tell you, they were formed after Manchester-based impresario Nigel Martin-Smith posted an advert.

He wanted to make a British version of US boy band New Kids On The Block. Jason Orange, Howard, Mark and Robbie came to the audition as strangers.

Gary was already in the band; was a dedicated songwriter and singer; He was performing at the Royal British Legions and the like and his talents were discovered by the manager, who formed a band around him.

Martin-Smith’s vision was that the band would ‘break out’ on the gay scene, but one day they were booked for a teenage gig and were attacked by screaming teenage girls. It was a ‘eureka’ moment.

But success came slowly, with several singles that failed to hit. They were then signed by the record company RCA and told to quit their jobs and start working. Howard, who paints cars, recalls: ‘They told me to quit the day job. My mother was fuming.’

In 1993, Pray’s follow-up to No. 1 hits with Relight My Fire, Babe, Everything Changes, Sure and Back for Good was enough to calm any mother down.

But the cracks were already starting to show. “Robbie was in the grip of something,” says Howard. ‘He had big eyes and energy on stage. “It looked like he was onto something.”

Still, it was a shock when he left in July 1995, when he was just 21 years old. Gary and Mark recall that during a meeting before the tour Robbie was told he had to ‘take it’ and Robbie replied that he was off duty in that case.

Martin-Smith wanted to make a British version of US boy band New Kids On The Block. Jason Orange, Howard, Mark and Robbie arrived at the audition as strangers

Gary reflects: ‘I thought this was someone who didn’t give much information about all of us.’ He also thought he would ‘be back tomorrow’.

Robbie said that by the time he was 19 or 20 he was already a ‘raging alcoholic’ and couldn’t start the day without a bottle of vodka.

The band moved on without him, but at a press conference in February 1996 they announced that the rumors were true: after an incredibly successful period in which they sold 20 million albums, they decided to disband.

There is footage of a fan being taken away in an ambulance, devastated by the news.

Howard was ‘angry’ and didn’t know what to do. He was unsuccessful in starting his solo career. ‘I knew deep down that this wasn’t for me,’ he admits. ‘You have to believe in yourself 100 percent and I never did.’

When Robbie’s success eclipsed Gary’s, he shouted back that he always knew he was a better songwriter. Gary retired to his home in Cheshire. Gary then describes in extraordinary detail his terrifying struggle with an eating disorder.

‘It’s been 13 months that I haven’t left the house. I would eat and eat. If food came to me, I would eat it. I killed the pop star. I would eat, then go to a dark corner of the house and throw up, thinking it would never happen again. But it happened again and again.”

A turning point came in 2005 when the band, minus Robbie, reunited for the first time for the ITV documentary Take That: For The Record. Robbie sent a video message to apologize for how things ended and for insulting Gary.

Martin-Smith’s vision was that the band would ‘break out’ on the gay scene, but one day they were booked for a teenage gig and were attacked by screaming teenage girls. It was a ‘eureka’ moment

Response to the film was so positive that the four decided to reform; Without Martin-Smith, Gary uses all their insecurities to keep them in line.

Following their sold-out tour in 2006, they began writing a new studio album, Beautiful World, with all four receiving writing credits for the first time.

But there was a problem. As Gary recalls: ‘I felt if we were going to keep Jason we had to get Robbie. But Robbie was in a funny place at the time. He hadn’t left his house in about eight months and was wearing these strange costumes: [1970s Greek singer] Demis Roussos.’

There was a meeting at his home in Los Angeles, and for ’20 or 25 minutes’ the two sworn enemies made peace.

The way was now clear for Robbie to return for the Progress album and tour in 2010; The decision was made after Robbie arrived at Mark’s bachelor party in New York.

They all agreed that they loved being on stage as a quintet, but they also knew that the ‘magic’ would be over by the end of the tour.

Howard says: ‘After the last show Jason said he was done and was leaving. I was really upset because Jason felt like my brother.’

Mark agrees: ‘It was a huge moment.’ ‘We’re going from five to three again, but we’ve been three for longer than other versions of the band. I can’t imagine my life without him. ‘At the heart of my world is Take That.’

Unusually, the program does not feature a single “talking head” photograph of the interviewees. Instead, their words are played over old footage.

This expertly produced three-parter has more music than most boy band-era documentaries, and it’s even better.