Documentary about writer and performance artist Bob Flanagan who died at 43 of cystic fibrosis. His life was indicated by pain from the beginning and he started to develop sadomasochistic ... See full summary »
Documentary about the life and death of the notorious underground punk icon GG Allin, the foul mouthed, heroin shooting lead singer of the Murder Junkies, who would throw excrement at the crowd, start fights with the biggest guys in the audience, and threatened to kill himself onstage. He was considered the lowest common denominator of our society by some, an avant-garde artist by others. He died of an overdose in the early 90's. Written by
GG Allin died of a heroin overdose during post-production. The filmmakers shot additional material on his death for inclusion in the film. A bonus feature on the region 1 DVD shows a still of Allin lying in his coffin. He is dressed in a jacket and jock strap. See more »
Enough to frighten the viewer right back to their Bing Crosby records
G.G. Allin died of a heroin overdose in 1993. What a typical death for such an untypical rock 'n' roller. Often when watching extreme cinema, you can relax by reassuring yourself its only a movie. This isn't the case with this documentary. G.G. Allin was completely real, completely derange, and oddly compelling. You can get a glimpse of him in this student film, feces and all. G.G. has become a legend not because of his music (which was amusing but pretty crappy) but because of his transgressive stage antics. Unlike other shock-rockers such as Marilyn Manson, G.G. Allin was the real thing. He was one disturbed, messed-up individual witness by the interviews caught on camera. Hes by far one of the most misanthropic individuals out there and (depending on your definition) possibly the living embodiment of the punk rock lifestyle.
"Hated" is a bit one-sided, but gives the viewer a good idea just why the man is one of underground music's most infamous participants. G.G.'s stage act would often involve performing completely nude (the man had a disgustingly small endowment), eating ex-lax and rubbing his feces all over himself, shoving the microphone up a certain orifice, and many other shocking acts along the lines. The documentary captures him in all his, err, glory. I wouldn't in my right mind recommend this to most people, but for those interested in the fringes of culture with a strong stomach, it carries interest. One thing for sure, there's never going to be another G.G. He's enough to frighten the viewer right back to their Bing Crosby records. (6/10)
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