The Pulp reunion that culminated in two sold-out nights at London’s O2 Arena in June 2025 is now immortalised in director Garth Jennings’s documentary What Do You Do for an Encore?. Filmed during the band’s 566th performance in front of roughly 20,000 fans, the movie stitches together the live set with decades-old rehearsal tapes, TV appearances and candid interviews. For anyone whose teenage soundtrack was punctuated by “Common People”, “Disco 2000” or “Babies”, the film feels less like a retrospective and more like a time-traveling road-trip back to the early ’80s when a lanky Jarvis Cocker first slipped a demo into a John Peel session.
At its core, the documentary asks two questions that have haunted Pulp fans for the past 30 years why does the band enjoy unprecedented worldwide attention now, and what fuels the near-cult devotion of its audience? The answer, as the film suggests, lies in the band’s embrace of the misfit identity. Cocker’s lyrics – especially the line-rich “Mis-shapes” performed midway through the set – celebrate the outliers who “could end up with a smack in the mouth just for standing out”. The documentary proves that, three decades after that anthem, those very misfits have become mainstream, and Pulp remains the soundtrack of their lives.
From early gigs to a 566th show
The opening minutes place viewers squarely in the 2025 O2 Arena, where the band launches with the fresh single “Spike Island” from their No. 1 reunion album More. Cocker, freshly roped into a glittering light show, declares, “This is a night you’ll remember for the rest of your life” and his swagger feels unchanged from the early ’80s stage antics that first earned him a Peel session spot. The setlist weaves classics from the 1995 Different Class era – “Common People”, “Disco 2000”, “Babies” – with deeper cuts such as “Do You Remember the First Time?” and the newly-recorded “A Sunset”. Each song is punctuated by Cocker’s trademark hand-jives and the band’s tight, almost theatrical precision.
Intercut archival clips illustrate how the group evolved from a Sheffield garage act to a Britpop staple. “That’s a long story,” Cocker purrs when asked about the road to the 566th performance, then launches into a rapid-fire timeline that includes the band’s first John Peel session, the fallout-from-a-window mishap that birthed their signature blend of “Barry White + Eurodisco + gritty Northern realism”, and the “Pulp aesthetic” of turning discarded cultural debris into fresh narratives. The film also nods to the 1997 release of the self-titled album This Is Hardcore which at the time was dismissed by some as a career-killing move but now reads in hindsight as a prophetic study of cultural decline.
Why the band still matters
Beyond concert footage, the documentary leans heavily on Cocker’s spoken-word reflections. He admits, “I exist to do this, shouting and pointing” framing performance as both an obligation and an escape for the band’s lifelong outsiders. The film also captures spontaneous moments: keyboardist Candida Doyle laughing at a host’s unfortunate phrase, and the troupe’s off-stage pursuits, from Doyle’s tapestry work to Mark Webber’s nail-painted guitar solos. Those vignettes reinforce a key point – the band’s charisma isn’t confined to the stage; it’s a collective chemistry that has survived two major hiatuses, a brief reunion from 2011-2013 and the loss of bassist Steve Mackey.
Modern cultural relevance is underscored by a 2025 Glastonbury cameo: pop star Olivia Rodrigo performed “Common People” on the shoulders of then-boyfriend Louis Partridge proving that the song still resonates with new generations. The documentary also notes that Rodrigo later used “Do You Remember the First Time?” in an Instagram post, illustrating how the band’s catalogue continues to infiltrate contemporary social media. All of this adds up to a simple truth: misfit anthems have a timeless appeal, and Pulp remains the most articulate voice for those who feel perpetually out of step.
Ending on a fresh track from More titled “A Sunset”, Cocker jokes, “I’d like to teach the world to sing / But I do not have a voice” a self-deprecating line that feels both sincere and ironic. The final shot lingers on the crowd’s roar, leaving the audience with the sense that the band’s story is far from over. As Cocker asks in the closing minutes, “Why do we keep going?” and answers, “Why wouldn’t we?” – a rhetorical nod to the fact that the soundtrack of a generation never truly ends.
