The Radical Queer Spirit of Barbara Hammer

Filmmaker Brydie O’Connor gives herself a rather difficult task with “Barbara Forever.” She sets out to document the life and career of iconic lesbian filmmaker Barbara Hammer in the same medium the prolific artist was known for. To heighten the challenge, Hammer has already documented much of that herself in many experimental films about living as a queer woman. O’Connor proves herself up to the task by eschewing the traditional cradle-to-grave narrative, peppered with interviews with those who knew the protagonist. Instead, she delivers an avant-garde film in the manner of Hammer’s work, educating people about the iconic artist while also making them experience the sort of film Hammer was known for.

O’Connor’s knowledge of Hammer’s work and understanding of her style become apparent from the very first frames of “Barbara Forever.” The audience hears Hammer in voiceover describing herself as a lesbian filmmaker as they see her happily posing naked — two things she has constantly done within her many films. “I’m creating a lesbian history in a world in which we are invisible,” says Hammer as images of her flash through. O’Connor takes that as both a mantra and springboard for what’s to come.

O’Connor wisely chooses to start the narrative at the time when Barbara came out as queer in 1970, as Hammer liked to say that she was only born when she became a lesbian. From then on, she provides a whirlwind overview of Hammer’s early experiences with women, making films and being a vocal advocate of second-wave feminism. The survey covers many love affairs — most documented in her work and some seen here — until she meets her soulmate Florrie Burke in her late 40s, and continues through to her final battle with cancer. All the footage used is from Hammer’s own films, while her voice fills the soundtrack with her thoughts and beliefs as she tells them funny, sexy and poignant stories of her life. 

Though the film is not chronological, by the end, it allows us to understand Hammer well and know most of her life milestones, from the Bay Area to New York, from a fringe artist not understood by the establishment to a recognized pioneer of experimental film whose work is shown at museums and studied in academia. O’Connor interviews Burke, who seems reluctant to appear before Hammer’s lens, but is mellower and more comfortable delivering on her promise to discuss her late partner so that the work might live forever.

“Barbara Forever” pleads the case for Hammer’s relevance for contemporary queer artists. The film shows her collaboration with Joey Carducci, a trans artist from a younger generation. Though Hammer always identified as a lesbian, she was also about solidarity with all queer people. Through this special working relationship and friendship with Carducci, O’Connor frames Hammer as someone who would comfortable and admired in today’s queer art spaces.

Having immersed herself in Hammer’s work for a decade, O’Connor proves herself to be an ideal fit for this documentary. She met Hammer before she died and formed a good relationship with Burke. She even made a short film a few years ago about their love story. O’Connor is also a savvy archivist, which ultimately distinguishes this film. A few of Hammer’s many credits are identified by title and time of production, though O’Connor more often immerses her audience in clips of Hammer’s films presented out of context or chronological order. Somehow, these all flow as one feature-length film, as if all were shot at the same time and from a single script. 

Hammer herself wanted the work to live beyond her own life. With this film, O’Connor becomes a new catalyst for that longevity. “Barbara Forever” stands as a confident feature documentary for its filmmaker, yet also as a singular artistic statement after Hammer that should add new admirers for her work.