Filmed Over Three Years, Anonymous Club Shares an Intimate Portrait of Singer-Songwriter Courtney Barnett

“Singing about panic attacks is not something most singers like to get into,” says an enthusiastic American radio host to a visibly uncomfortable Courtney Barnett. “That’s kind of touchy territory. How is it for you having your work associated with such difficult, unpleasant, painful things? Does that bother you? Is that a badge of pride for you?”

That’s how documentary Anonymous Club begins, bluntly and candidly. First-time feature director and long-time collaborator Danny Cohen chooses this moment of the Melbourne-based musician’s tour promotion as a symbol of her struggles with life on the road, fame, and the paradox of being an introverted live music performer.

It’s a moment he revisits in his biographical exploration of the Australian singer-songwriter during the rock documentary – one where we’re taken from hotel rooms in Oslo to Texas, then to Barnett’s makeshift room above her recording studio in Melbourne.

The documentary fluctuates between moments of calm and chaos. We sit with Barnett as she writes music and haikus, we watch her sleep in a car or make Vegemite toast, then we watch her command crowds of thousands, headbanging to the heavier corners of her discography.

Although this subversion of a rock biography is well suited to Barnett fans, the film has much wider appeal too. It’s ultimately a story about human connection and loneliness.

Through Cohen’s lens and Barnett’s “audio diary” narration, we follow the songwriter’s life over three years. Shooting in gritty, grainy 16-millimetre film, the filmmaker gives the doco a raw and nostalgic quality – almost like a home video.

Some days, she’s optimistic about and appreciative of the touring and music promoting process. Others, she is dismayed and frustrated by it. “I don’t understand the point of talking about my feelings … I just don’t see the point in doing this and I don’t think I’m at a place where I can help anyone because I can’t even seem to really help myself,” she says speaking into a dictaphone, often directly addressing Cohen.

Barnett is seemingly more comfortable hidden behind the microphone than in front of the camera, though she slowly warms to its gaze over the years.

Anonymous Club paints an intimate portrait of a charming, intelligent, affable, and relatable artist. Even if you have no prior love of her music, you can’t finish this film without being endeared to her and her journey so far.

Though it opens with vulnerability, the film ends with a sense of resilience and passion. Cohen focuses on the joy of Barnett’s worldwide fanbase. Pre-pandemic shots of festivals and live music gigs feel inherently nostalgic too – especially seeing people dance in a crowd. It was a different time, but as Barnett embarks on another world tour this month, it’s also good timing to revisit the pre-Covid days with one of the country’s more beguiling musicians.

Anonymous Club is in cinemas from Thursday March 17. Courtney Barnett plays Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane in March before touring overseas.

anonymousclubfilm.com