What started as a kitsch attempt at a movie in Richmond, Virginia in the 1980s eventually evolved to be GWAR. What is GWAR, exactly? At least half of Scott Barber’s documentary toys with that very question. On the one hand, GWAR is much more than a collective of artists and musicians performing obscene stage shows and singing heavy metal. On the other, that’s really all there is to it. This is GWAR confidently asserts itself as the definitive chronicle of one of the most fascinating heavy metal bands ever assembled, and as a stunning story in its own right.
Following key members of the band over a 35-year period, This is GWAR tracks the infamous costumed band as they discover their musical and artistic identity. Described as “the most iconic heavy metal/art collective/monster band in the universe,” GWAR are notorious for spraying audience members with imitations of various bodily fluids, performing lewd actions on stage, and for their biting social commentary hiding beneath the apparent madness. The extravagance of their costumes, sets and music videos are matched only by the power of their music, which has evolved from a punk-inspired medley to a fully fleshed heavy metal super act.
Asides from providing a detailed insight into the band itself, Barber’s film sets out to achieve a number of things. Rather than picking a specific thematic focus – which arguably might have made the film more nuanced – This is GWAR spotlights everything from artistic elitism to the inherent difficulties of collaboration and far-right political censorship. At times it can feel like Barber is clinging to too many branches, but he always brings the focus back to those at the centre of GWAR who make it what it is. Each member is self-reflective about their own artistic journeys and turmoil, confiding to the camera with remarkable honesty. By always returning to those behind the masks and the onstage antics, This is GWAR stops short of descending into a mismatched collage and remains a compelling, singular portrait.
The film illustrates the band’s colourful nature by interspersing animation throughout, at times deliberately mimicking comic strips. Barber makes sure that you have more than just the band’s word to go off, and that GWAR’s personality shines through in the visuals. These often accompany the most memorable moments, such as a very funny gatecrashing of the Grammys (where they were explicitly told not to arrive in costume) and slightly absurd appearances on television alongside Jerry Springer and Joan Rivers. GWAR’s performance is not limited to the stage, as a vast collection of archive footage and interviews attests to.
This is GWAR manages to counter the silly with the deeply profound, with a balance that strikes a similar chord to Jeff Tremaine’s The Dirt and arguably improves upon it. GWAR have had more than their share of heartache and trouble, and while the film stops short of offering any resolution, it doesn’t shy away from these difficulties. It is in these moments that perhaps GWAR’s ultimate purpose becomes clear: family. Those who have been with the band for the longest have devoted three decades of their lives to it. The way that Barber manages to elicit the strength of the bonds within the group, despite the members rarely sharing the screen together during the film itself, is remarkable to watch.
“The world needs GWAR” as one band member puts it. But equally true is that GWAR needs the world. The world is what gives GWAR and its members’ stories such weight and importance, even behind all the devilish tomfoolery. Without the world, GWAR’s actions suddenly lose all meaning. It is by placing GWAR so deliberately in a changing, messy context that Barber captures their full appeal – complete with projectile menstrual blood, demons hell-bent on the destruction of Earth, and a singing toilet with teeth. For fans of GWAR, this is a diamond in the rough. For everyone else, it needs to be seen to be believed.
This Is GWAR releases on Shudder from July 21st.