Juggalos have been featured all over the news recently after the FBI took the somewhat controversial decision to officially classify Juggalos as a gang in its 2011 National Gang Threat Assessment. As an Englishman I have never come face to facepaint with a member of this apparently huge subculture of Insane Clown Posse superfans, but I find myself intrigued to learn a little about them. American Juggalo is an independent documentary by Brooklyn based filmmaker Sean Dunne, filmed on location at the Gathering Of The Juggalos in Illinois, a four-day carnivalesque horrorcore and hardcore hip-hop music festival which forms a spiritual mecca for Juggalos and their female counterparts, Juggalettes, to come together as one big family. It’s a fascinating insight into something that seems to some extent just like any music festival I’ve ever been to with tents, drugs, booze and live bands, except the entire place is filled with tens of thousands of face-painted white trash ninja clowns who espouse this way of life as a full-time obsession.
Like many of director Sean Dunne’s independent documentary films, this is something of a portrait. There is no strong narrative and no voice-over, the film comprises a series of interviews with Juggalos and Juggalettes over the course of their weekend. There is no attempt to directly address any aspects of Insane Clown Posse or their music; this is purely about the fans, although it’s a testament to ICP that they have succeeded in breeding such a strong and dedicated fanbase. At times there’s a strong sense that clips have been selected and edited with tongue firmly in cheek, but overall this doesn’t feel like a piss-take, it’s an honest portrayal of how these fans choose to express themselves.
The most overwhelming impression from these interviews is the sense of family these people share together. The word “love” is used frequently and unashamedly and complete strangers clearly share a bond they understand on a deep and meaningful level. One girl introduces a friend as her brother before explaining that “he’s not my blood but he’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to blood”. In her opinion he has shown kindness and compassion far beyond anything her own family has ever provided her and yet he is still ostracized by mainstream church-going people for his appearance, clad in the typical baggy black clothes, bandana and monochrome facepaint of a full-time Juggalo. The sense of a shared bond is a continued theme throughout the film. Another explains, “you see the difference in people and you just love them for who they are”. Dunne manages to convey a totally powerful sense of just how strong this bond is, and it makes a lot of sense that many of the people drawn to ICP and Juggaloism begin as society’s outcasts. As one pale skinned, dark haired nerdy looking guy chooses to put it, “that’s how I was born, I can’t help it. Events led up to me realising it”. On the one hand it’s quite heartwarming to see such a positive outlook among so many people while on the other it seems the acceptance that they find within Juggalo society has a strong parallel with that of cult membership, and the constant shows of love and mutual appreciation have their equivalent in the “love bombing” used in the initial stages of recruitment into groups such as the infamous Moonies. In any case it doesn’t seem that any of the individuals in this film have any suspicious agenda behind their shows of affection beyond general acceptance of one another.
Perhaps to some extent fuelling the mutual love and acceptance is the proliferation of drug taking amongst this crowd. Ecstasy, booze, laughing gas and most likely a host of other substances are openly consumed. One guy brandishes a bag of mushrooms while claiming “we can party and still maintain ourselves appropriately” somewhat undermined by his fully naked female friend who is having her nipple tongued by some dude who just wandered into shot. Whether the dude is a friend or complete stranger is unclear. Partying hard and enjoying life to the fullest extent is something that seems to unite the vast majority here, from the guy who was undergoing dialysis immediately before journeying to the gathering, to the chunky bearded young man who “can cook like a motherfucker, fucking make some straight up fucking grub”. I for one would love to try his Chicken Fried Steak. For others it seems that chemical assistance is unnecessary. One girl claims to simply be “high on life”, although she also refers to herself in the third person as “Maniac” which makes it hard to decide whether to believe she is as abstinent as she claims. Another group explain that they are straight-edge and yet they feel that they are no less accepted into the wider group than any stereotypical weed-smoking beer-guzzling Juggalo. In reality it seems there is no such thing as a typical Juggalo. It’s clear there is a lot of white trash around, yet one eyewitness reports “I met a brain surgeon… he was tripping on acid”. The documentary leaves it entirely open to interpretation whether you choose to believe that this really happened but it is evident that at least in one man’s mind it absolutely did.
The lack of narrative to this documentary leaves much of it open to interpretation. I wouldn’t say it was an entirely sympathetic portrait, and the editing does end up making a fair few Juggalos and Juggalettes look somewhat foolish, although this is hardly difficult to achieve when you’re documenting a group of people who consider themselves ninja clowns. Realistically these people are getting fucked up at a music festival for the weekend and most of the behavior exhibited would not seem out of place at Leeds or Reading. If anything, the starkest contrast between the Gathering Of The Juggalos and, say, Leeds festival is that of the general atmosphere. Despite the stigma of being a Juggalo within mainstream society, together as one huge group this film shows them as remarkably tolerant, friendly and fun-loving, despite the graphically violent lyrical content of the music that brings them together. It makes a subtle yet poignant final touch for the documentary to close to the strains of the Misfits' 'American Nightmare', a song which sounds fairly inoffensive to modern ears and yet contains some brutally violent imagery. Just as punks were once feared and misunderstood, so one day might society accept the Juggalos. Until then at least the Juggalos and Juggalettes of the world have each other.
American Juggalo is free to watch over at AmericanJuggalo.com