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Lesbian artist Barbara Hammer felt invisible for most of her life. She started making films in the late 1960s, but emerging queer filmmakers often face the same challenges today.
“I really felt her frustration at so
many different points,” says Brydie O’Connor, director of “Barbara Forever.”
“We had such wonderful partners, but we were all working overtime on this little movie that could. All the success that we’ve seen with this film hasn’t translated into funding for new projects or making money. I really hope that it will at some point.”
After screenings at Sundance and Berlinale, O’Connor is bringing the film to Ji.hlava Intl. Documentary Film Festival, where she presented it at the U.S. Docs showcase in 2023.
Produced by A Space Time Films and Killer Films production in co-production with Kartemquin Films, it gained powerful allies in Kristen Stewart and uber-producer Christine Vachon.
“Christine was like: ‘I love that it’s an unconventional approach to an unconventional artist.’ I’m such a fan of her filmography and some of her films are the most groundbreaking queer films I’ve ever seen. That’s what supporting a new generation of queer artists looks like,” notes O’Connor.
Making a film about someone who, despite her influence, isn’t exactly a household name, wasn’t easy.
“We kept hearing: ‘We love your enthusiasm for Barbara Hammer, you emerging lesbian filmmaker. But does that relate to the present day and broader audiences?’”
Hammer passed away in 2019.
“I was wondering: How did she do it all? How did she make over 85 films? How did she archive her entire life in 125 boxes that she eventually sold to Yale? How did she have such a successful relationship towards the end of her life? The complexity of just living, being ambitious and trying to make it happen feels very relatable to me,” she says.
“Now, so many people are being introduced to Barbara and feeling so moved by this film. I’m so grateful for that. It’s such a win to release it, but it was hard to convince people of its place in the market.”
Ironically enough, Hammer’s work often felt ahead of her time. Like today’s influencers, she wasn’t afraid to interview passers-by, film herself or share intimate moments with the camera.
“It feels very contemporary. Barbara started using social media at the end of her life, and she was certainly interested in it. She put herself in the frame as a way to process her feelings and certain situation in her life. She filmed everything.”
But there was a reason behind her methods.
“Barbara had this idea that it would offer insight into how one lesbian, and one woman, navigated the world. In the influencer era, that throughline isn’t necessarily as present. When she was first understanding her sexuality, she had never heard the word ‘lesbian’. This set her on this mission to document everything so that other people could see themselves in her work. I think that was part of her impetus to be so prolific.”
O’Connor started researching Hammer’s work as a student.
“She felt invisible when she was coming out, but she also felt invisible in the film and art world. She felt like she wasn’t getting recognized in the way she thought she should be,” she admits.
Hammer wanted the fame that was eluding her – and she wasn’t afraid to say it.
“When you talk to people who were in the scene or had encountered her, they say: ‘Barbara had a huge personality. She was really pushy, you know.’ I think that’s so human. She knew that she had to overemphasize the importance of her work and her presence. It was about becoming a lesbian icon at a time when the world didn’t really want a lesbian icon.”
Although Hammer made personal, experimental films, she still cared about her audience and wanted to engage with them. Up until her death from cancer.
“Connecting with others through art was really at the core of her practice. It’s also why she loved teaching. I definitely try to take at least a page out of Barbara’s book in that regard,” says O’Connor.
“After one screening, a woman came up to me. She said: ‘I’ve never heard of Barbara Hammer. I’m from Texas and I’m not queer. But I was so moved because my father is at the very end of his life, and he keeps telling our family that he’s at peace. After seeing this movie, I finally understand what he’s saying,’” she recalls.
“That’s been one of the greatest gifts. Just talking to audiences.”
