Marco Porsia’s documentary Where Does a Body End? is a labour of love. This near-three-hour film [in its ‘Extended Cut’ home release version] assembles interviews and unseen archival footage into an affectionate portrait of the legendary experimental rock band, Swans. It follows the band through their roots in the New York no-wave scene, mid-career reinvention, hiatus and reunion—and even makes time for some solo-and-side projects. Porsia crowdfunded this very personal passion project—essentially the band’s sizzle reel, by and for existing fans.
Condensing forty years of wildly eclectic music into one film is a tall order. Porsia, though, is determined to do so. Swans’ first fourteen studio albums, and near-innumerable EPs and live albums, all receive some level of lip service. The only (egregious) omission is 2019’s leaving meaning—no doubt being finalised at the very same time as this film. It’s dissatisfying to end on a cliffhanger to which we know the resolution—“what’s next for Swans?”—and feels like it could’ve been avoided. A little card of explanatory text at the end would’ve sufficed. Instead, there’s an odd, wilfully ignorant tension to the film’s closing limits; it dusts its hands and nervously proclaims, “nothing to see here”.
In areas it actually does cover, the documentary’s approach is rather rote and superficial. It neglects to dig into the meat of Swans. The fan-wank is especially jarring when Swans’ frontman Michael Gira appears, speaking in much more esoteric and spiritual terms than his interviewer. Gira emblemises a vital essence to his band that Where Does a Body End? largely skates over. The doc bids to explain Swans’ sublimity with shots of gacked-out crowd members and gawky and adrenalized second-generation fans (all desperately trying not to mention Anthony Fantano or 4chan). But this says nothing—Beatlemania was still Beatlemania, even when they were playing shit like ‘Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da’. Sadly, Where Does a Body End? seems more interested in Swans as a phenomenon than a band, and their work ends up playing second-fiddle to their mythos.
Nowhere is this clearer than in the documentary’s unforgivable side-lining of Swans’ neofolk era. 1987’s Children of God and 1991’s White Light from the Mouth of Infinity feel included out of historical obligation. In reality, they represent Swans’ most dramatic shift in approach and are the missing link between their origins in stark industrial rock, and the 35-minute psychedelic jams of their post-reunion work. Vocalist Jarboe is unduly skirted around as well—portrayed as a muse who tempered Gira’s galaxy-brain genius, rather than a creative force in her own right. The film sacrifices these subjects for hordes of hyperbolising gig attendees and super-fans.
For the most part, Where Does a Body End? is exactly the documentary Swans’ fans have been craving. Turns out, that isn’t a good thing.
Where Does a Body End? (Sept. 28th) is available for UK pre-order here.
Words: Andrew O’Keefe