Hated: GG Allin and The Murder Junkies

It stares back at you from the screen, less a film and more a smear of filth, sweat, and aggression. There's no gentle fade-in, no establishing shot to ease you into the world of GG Allin. Instead, Hated: GG Allin and The Murder Junkies throws you headfirst into the grimy, chaotic orbit of arguably rock and roll's most extreme and self-destructive figure. This isn't a tape you'd casually pick up; finding it felt like uncovering something genuinely dangerous, a transmission from the absolute fringes that the mainstream desperately tried to ignore.

A Portrait Forged in Filth

Let's be blunt: GG Allin was not a musician in the conventional sense. He was a spectacle, a force of nature fuelled by cheap booze, rage, and a nihilistic philosophy that involved defecating on stage, self-mutilation, and assaulting audience members. His band, The Murder Junkies – featuring his brother Merle Allin on bass and the unforgettable, often naked drummer Dino Sex – were less collaborators and more facilitators, the ragged backup to GG's one-man war against everything. And somehow, a young film student named Todd Phillips managed to capture it all.

This 1993 documentary, famously born from Phillips' time at NYU film school, isn't a polished retrospective. It's raw, immediate, and often deeply uncomfortable. Phillips follows GG and the band through slophouse apartments, hostile interviews, and the genuinely terrifying live shows. There's no attempt to sanitize or explain away GG's behaviour; the camera simply observes, letting the audience grapple with the ugliness on display. You witness the infamous stage antics, the incoherent philosophical rants, the unnerving interactions with both devoted fans (often as damaged as he was) and utterly bewildered onlookers. Remember seeing footage like this for the first time on a grainy VHS, maybe passed around between friends? That feeling of witnessing something taboo, something genuinely unfiltered, is perfectly encapsulated here.

The Making of a Monster (Movie)

The very existence of Hated is something of a minor miracle. Securing access to someone as volatile and unpredictable as GG Allin was a feat in itself. Todd Phillips, years before he'd helm blockbuster comedies like The Hangover or the bleak character study Joker, showed an early knack for embedding himself in extreme subcultures. The budget was reportedly scraped together, adding to the film's appropriately gritty aesthetic. There's an undeniable sense of danger permeating the footage; you get the feeling that violence could erupt at any moment, directed at the audience, the band, GG himself, or even the camera crew.

One chilling piece of context hangs heavy over the film: GG Allin died of a heroin overdose on June 28, 1993, not long after filming concluded and shortly before the documentary saw wider release. Hated thus became not just a portrait of his "art" and lifestyle, but an unintentional epitaph, capturing the man in his final, chaotic months. It lends the already grim proceedings an extra layer of bleak finality. Did knowing his fate shortly after watching this back in the day add another layer of grim fascination?

Beyond the Shock Value

It’s easy to dismiss Hated as mere exploitation, a cheap thrill showcasing abhorrent behaviour. And yes, it is shocking. It's repulsive, crude, and often hard to watch. Yet, it's also a strangely compelling piece of documentary filmmaking. It refuses to look away, presenting its subject without judgement, forcing the viewer to confront the uncomfortable realities of extreme counter-culture, mental illness, addiction, and the bizarre magnetism of transgressive figures.

The film captures a specific moment in the early 90s underground, a pre-internet era where figures like GG could cultivate a notorious reputation through fanzines, bootleg tapes, and word-of-mouth, existing in pockets of culture far removed from mainstream oversight. It’s a snapshot of rock bottom, presented without apology. The interviews with band members, fans, and even detractors add layers, painting a picture of a small, strange ecosystem revolving around GG's particular brand of performance art terrorism.

Legacy of Loathing

Hated remains a potent cult documentary. It launched Todd Phillips' career, proving his ability to handle difficult subjects and challenging environments. More significantly, it serves as the definitive document of GG Allin, preserving his uniquely repellent legacy for posterity. It’s not a film you "enjoy" in the traditional sense. It's a film you experience, one that likely leaves you feeling grimy, maybe a little nauseated, but also strangely fascinated by the depths it plumbs. It’s the kind of tape you might have hidden at the bottom of your collection, unsure if you ever wanted to watch it again, but unable to completely forget it.

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Rating: 7/10

Justification: This score reflects Hated's effectiveness as a raw, unflinching documentary and its undeniable cult significance, not an endorsement of its subject. It succeeds completely in capturing the disturbing reality of GG Allin and his world. Todd Phillips crafted a powerful, albeit nauseating, portrait that remains impactful due to its sheer vérité approach and the grim context of GG's death. It loses points simply because the subject matter makes it inherently difficult and unpleasant viewing, limiting its rewatchability for many.

Final Thought: Hated is a visceral gut-punch of a documentary, a grimy artifact from the VHS underground that still possesses the power to shock and repel decades later. It’s less a movie, more a dare.