Bangers and smash

You may never get to see Fubar – a tale of two oafish, Canadian headbanger buddies– but it's one of the funniest mockumentaries of the year. Steve Jelbert reaches for his hair extensions

So far 2002 has been the year of Rock, as in dumb yet amusing music, and Mock, as in "mockumentaries", a form (whether in film or TV) which shows few signs of fading. So, a project which successfully combines these two dominant themes really should prove irresistible. Fubar (an acronym of "Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition") was put together for next to nothing by three twentysomethings in their home town of Calgary, Canadad. And like the best of the music, often created by like-minded souls from unlikely places, such as the Datsuns (New Zealand), the Hives (Sweden) and the Darkness (er, Lowestoft), it's a triumph of the ridiculous, both knowing and affectionate.

It tells the story of bangers (as in headbangers) and best buddies Dean and Terry, two instantly familiar oafs given to shotgunning cans of beer and proudly sporting the local crop known as "ice hockey hair", as they become the subjects of pretentious documentary maker Farrel. Impressively edited and performed, it moves adeptly from scenes of Jackass-style abandon into some very dark areas. Dean's swollen "nut" turns out to be cancerous, and the two overgrown adolescents have to face mortality when they can't even spell the word.

It's also incredibly funny, despite its downbeat subject matter, and clever too. Farrel is literally driven over the edge when his specimens start talking back and point out that they'd be behaving the same way, camera or no camera. Another scene, where they visit a small town called High River and, in character, interact with the locals, inspired some very strange reactions.

"We thought let's try to improvise with some real people and see what happens," explains Dave Lawrence, the 26-year-old co-writer who plays Terry. "Nothing was happening, then we started hollering and we could hear other hollers from blocks away. People flocked to the camera. They never really questioned it. The bar owner said we could film in the corner and people started coming over. We ended up talking about snowmobiles and tubing down the river. The toughest guys wanted to fight Mike [Dowse, director] who was behind the camera- he's a really big guy. He had to explain they couldn't because if they fought him then they wouldn't be on film. So the guy who gets his ass kicked went round the bar saying 'Let's get a fight on camera'. We got an awesome opportunity to film a fight. It wasn't really aggressive."

It is an astonishing scene though, as the local brawlers eventually hug before one spits out a tooth. "We ended up paying for it to be replaced. We felt it was our duty," says Lawrence, "If it wasn't for the hair extensions, which were actually glued to our heads, we would have been nervous. If you're wearing a wig and those guys find out..."

Ah, the hair extensions. "That's where we really blew the budget," says Lawrence, just after using the indie film-makers mantra "I maxed out my credit cards". "We really had nothing, so we had to make the form fit what we had, and all we had was a boom mike and a digital camera. A lot of people in the film are our family and friends." That's true. The cast list includes no less than seven Lawrences, including Dave's father, who makes an impromptu speech apparently condemning Dean's slovenly appearance, referring to "long, greasy hair, beer advertisement shirts". In fact, he was tricked into commenting on his older son's friends.

"Not one piece of dialogue was written except for Dr Lim about the moustache. It's entirely improvised but for that one line," says Lawrence. It's a great line, explaining how despite chemotherapy, his patient has miraculously preserved his ratty little tache. It's spoken with authority too, for Dr Lim is, in fact, the real-life doctor of Paul Spence, who plays Dean.

Lawrence started out in improvised theatre in his home town, where the Terry character took shape as an MC at a late night comedy revue. "We used to do 'theatre sports' where we'd compete, and we created a banger team called 'White Trash'. They'd never manage a scene, but just get out there and try, and end up fighting."

He's adamant that Fubar's take on its subjects is sympathetic, though. "After high school I worked up on the pipeline for six months as a welders' helper. I really absorbed these guys from day to day," he says. That's where he learnt the expression "just give'r", best translated as the extra effort needed to move, say, a recalcitrant bolt and a uniquely Canadian expression which can be applied to all aspects of life (and the Fubar promotional material).

"Most people on this banger path move away from it," he says. "Very few go into it later on, like a 35-year-old going 'Damn it! I'm going to become a banger,'". But Kevin Spacey grabbed an Oscar for doing just that in American Beauty. "Exactly," laughs Lawrence.

For all their loutish behaviour even bangers have a sensitive side. Dean's poetry, including the immortal "Woman Is A Danger Cat" ("your foot is on the gas and the tires say YEAH!") is a true highlight. And the sociological observation is acute. As Spence told a Canadian magazine, "Every Sunday morning in most Canadian cities you'll find broken bus shelters. We had to answer that question: how did that happen and why?" (In his case, it was as part of a scene in a film he was making) Though just about every excruciating moment of Fubar will strike a chord with any Britons who've ever enjoyed the likes of Paul Calf's Video Diaries or The Office, the land of Beavis and Butthead and Jim Anchower (the brilliant fictional hesher whose lowlife moans sometimes surface in The Onion) just didn't seem to get it.

"Because we push the envelope a bit, with the testicular cancer and the funeral scene, for example, Americans were uncomfortable. I think they liked the first 20 minutes, but when we got into more human stuff they got nervous about it," says a resigned Lawrence, nonetheless disappointed that a hit at home hasn't even secured distribution across the border.

So maybe there's no such thing as an American banger? Lawrence shakes his head: "I've seen them in the States. There are lots in Australia, too. I think there are banger traits in all sorts of working-class people. They're just slightly different from place to place. I'm sure you can relate to the attitudes they share – 'Make sure I got beer and my girlfriend and my truck works,'" he says.

Not every detail will translate successfully to these shores though. "I don't know what kind of vehicle they drive in the UK. Do you have El Caminos there? Half car half truck?" asks Lawrence.

As for the provocative title, popularised in the American military, that proved less of a problem for Lawrence than explaining to his mother just why his appearance had suddenly changed so drastically. "I came home with hair extensions and over dinner my good Christian mother asked me what I was working on and I said, 'A project called Fubar,'" he says. "She's a hardcore Praise The Lord lady and asked 'what does that mean?' I just said 'Oh, it's an old war term.'" Bless.

'Fubar' is showing at the Raindance Film Festival, London, on 27 October. A DVD is available on import next month. The website is at www.fubar-themovie.com

A brief history of mockumentaries

This is Spinal Tap (1984)

Undoubtedly Spinal Tap (right) is the big daddy of improvised movies, though the co-writer of Fubar, Dave Lawrence, shamefully admits that he once mistook it for a "real band that sucked". Attempts to credit the script to the entire cast of the film were regrettably foiled by Hollywood bureaucracy.

Best in Show (2000)

Christopher Guest's belated "mock" follow-up to Spinal Tap was nothing less than a delight, but let's be honest – do dog shows really get anyone going like Rock'n'Roll?

American Movie (1999)

An accepted influence on Fubar, Chris Smith's acclaimed documentary about hapless filmmaker Mark Borchardt and his perpetual struggle against ineptitude stuns many when they realise it's for real. Borchardt (and his somewhat damaged best pal) now have regular careers in the movie business, fantastically.

Blair Witch Project (1999)

Like Fubar, a hit at Sundance, yet despite its extraordinary success, it still looked like little more than an intelligent answer to the problem of making a film for a five-figure sum. Esteemed critic Gilbert Adair refused to review it in case he might have been frightened. Honestly.