Film Review: King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard’s Chunky Shrapnel

If it weren’t for the global pandemic that has brought the music and entertainment industry to its knees, King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard’s movie Chunky Shrapnel would have had its world premiere on the big screen at Melbourne’s Astor Theatre on April 3rd. Instead, it screened digitally on Vimeo, where it was available to rent for 24 hours from 8 am AEST on the 18th, with a lengthier mode of distribution hinted at for later in the year.

Although robbed of the spectacle of a cinema release, Chunky Shrapnel couldn’t be more timely as a reminder of live music’s power as a celebratory and unifying force in a time of social distancing and – for many – loneliness. Taking it’s title from a lyric on 2017’s ‘Murder of the Universe’, from the album of the same name, Chunky bills itself as “A musical road movie dipped in turpentine”. Filmmaker John Angus Stewart brings this vision to a visceral reality, chronicling the seven-piece Melbourne band’s short-yet-intense 2019 European tour on Super 8 film. Lending his manifold talents as director, editor, and cinematographer, Stewart’s vision is one of immersion over narrative, plentiful in lengthy takes and pure ambient energy. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard (or ‘King Gizz’ for short) are – as their name suggests – known for a theatrically-enigmatic presence; always energetic and always loveable. Their film conveys this and then some.

In terms of genre, it’s equal parts ‘concert film’ and ‘tour documentary’, but possesses the archetypal qualities of neither. Rather than contrive a story rife with artificial conflict and band drama, Stewart’s approach to ‘life on the road’ deftly eschews the usual rock-umentary tropes that films such as This is Spinal Tap (1984) so incisively send-up. Why use cutaway interviews to describe the tirelessness of the touring experience when intercut footage of soundchecks and merch-stand setups more smoothly suffices? We’re presented with very little in the way of onscreen text, titles, interviews, or any kind of direct exposition for that matter. From the get-go the viewer is thrown into the experience of a live show from Stewart’s first-person view, with a Terrence Malick-esque eye for getting up close and personal. Every brain-melting guitar solo and impressive moment of coordination between the band’s two drummers is caught with exacting detail.

Stewart confirmed as much in a recent interview with NME, speaking at length about the importance of intimate unobtrusiveness in his approach to shooting:

“I would rather put the camera in a room and just see them do their thing and catch a couple of conversations here and there, instead of telling the audience how they should feel.”

This feels like a perfect manifesto for how the film is paced: excerpts from their sixteen-date tour are stitched together with interludes of green room banter and the occasional dimming of live concert audio so that moments from the ethereal score composed by de-facto frontman Stu Mackenzie can waft in. The performances themselves meanwhile are always given ample room to breathe, with shots often extending for the entire length of a song, tracking from thrashing audience to energetic band. Whether situated at the rear of the stage or at the front of the mosh pit, Stewart’s movement of the camera ensures that the vibes remains palpable; a particular highlight being the few occasions on which the lens fogs up from the sheer body heat in the venue, only to be quickly wiped away from behind the camera.

In the chaos of the montage, a carefully-constructed whole emerges. King Gizz have bet the engagement of this film on the strength of their live shows, a bet which pays off with strident energy. Heavy hitters such as ‘Planet B’ and ‘Self-Immolate’ from their most recent album Infest the Rats’ Nest are cut smoothly into more downtempo tracks from earlier releases Sketches of Brunswick East and Paper Mâché Dream Balloon. In-turn, band members are each given moments for their talents to shine, from Michael ‘Cavs’ Cavanagh’s blinding drum solos, to multi-instrumentalist Ambrose Kenny-Smith’s attention-grabbing harmonica licks. And as any fan that sees the world of rock n’ roll through rose tinted glasses would surely expect, there’s glorious stage-diving and walls-of-death aplenty.

The only – small – caveat worth noting is that Chunky may verge on grating for viewers that aren’t already convicted fans of the band’s genre-bending, time signature-flaunting antics. The sparsity of narrative is rewarding for diehards but could understandably leave a bit to be desired for those actually wishing to learn much about the band that they’ve been watching perform for a little over an hour-and-a-half. That said, at no point does the film proclaim to be everything for everyone, and whether to a room of a few hundred or a hall of several thousand, King Gizz sure can entertain.

Chunky won’t be gracing laptop, phone, nor cinema screens again for some time, at least not legally (however, the band seems to be somewhat understanding), but it is assuredly worth the wait.

The trailer for Chunky Shrapnel can be viewed here, and its accompanying live double-album releases Friday April 24.