FUBAR Give'r Hard

What sick, twisted perverts conjured up this little notion? I tell you, they should be kissed and beaten at the same time.

Named after a military acronym for something gone really, really wrong (Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition), the aptly-named FUBAR follows a year in the life of two Calgary heshers, Dean Murdoch (Paul Spence) and Terry Cahill (David Lawrence). Shot in documentary style via "filmmaker" Farrel Mitchner (played by Gordon Skilling), FUBAR excels in being a hilariously true-to-life account of every Camaro-driving, pot-selling, leather 'n' denim-wearing goon you avoided (or more likely were) in high school.

Centred around the lifelong friendship between Terry and Dean, FUBAR begins by showing the important aspects of life for a Buttfuck, Alberta hesher: shotgunnin' beers, hockey, rockin' out and trashin' shit. From simple moments like watching Dean pedal around town on his 10-speed with a two-four of Pilsner to intense discussions about how to get a woman off, every second of FUBAR is like witnessing a car-wreck: you feel dirty for looking, but compelled to see the damage.

Thankfully, this car-wreck is nothing but amusing. After a brief introduction into the sad lives of our protagonists, the film quickly shifts gears, revealing that Dean is, in fact, ignoring testicular cancer. At this point, the tone is of a more serious nature and FUBAR loses some of the immaturity it kicks off with, but it's also here that it actually develops a plot.

One might say there's even a bit of substance — a moral or message as Dean slowly shifts from indignant prick to driven survivor. Most importantly, though, the serious tone doesn't stop FUBAR from being as raucous or fun. Drunken camping and a visit to a REAL redneck town are entertaining, as it becomes apparent that even Terry and Dean are overwhelmed by the redness of the townsfolk's necks and their "friendly" fistfights, killer hawks and drunken bridge-jumping.

Basically, FUBAR is the metal fan's version of Spinal Tap. Terry Cahill and Dean Murdoch are the audience's Nigel Tufnel and David St. Hubbins, constantly running into a myriad of problems. One can't even begin to get across just how asinine and believable Lawrence (Terry) and Spence (Dean) are in this film.

It almost feels as if the director followed one of the clowns from Heavy Metal Parking Lot home for a year. Kudos to Lawrence, Spence and Skilling for creating a killer flick sans money or any fixed script, and most notably for delivering sincere performances that are inspired, original and downright scary.

I mean, we're not talking mere research here, we're talking a step beyond method acting. You know — like, they weren't acting at all?