Punk renegade Shayne Carter (Straitjacket Fits, Dimmer) takes us on an iconoclastic tour through a career of highs and lows from suburban Dunedin to the heights of international fame and back again.
Margaret Gordon’s Life in One Chord is not a conventional music documentary. It is, instead, a portrait of one of New Zealand’s most distinctive and uncompromising musicians, Shayne Carter. For those unfamiliar with Carter, or with the often abrasive soundscapes of post-punk and the Dunedin Sound, the film may feel distant or unwelcoming, but for those who have followed Carter’s career, from his bratty beginnings in Bored Games, through the combustible brilliance of the DoubleHappys, the near-world-conquering Straitjacket Fits, and finally into the shape-shifting experiments of Dimmer, this film is a rich reservoir of memory, footage, and reflection.
Directed by Gordon and produced by Rick Harvie, with cinematography by James Ellis and editing by Patrick McCabe, the film carries itself with both rawness and polish. An early in-joke that becomes one of the film’s quirks, Carter initially refuses to read his own memoir aloud and cheekily suggests Carol Hirschfeld should do it. They oblige, and what could have been a jarring decision grows into a clever device, contrasting Carter’s gritty past with Hirschfeld’s measured delivery.
The film begins not with stardom but with suburbia. Carter returns to Brockville, a Dunedin neighbourhood whose ordinariness is etched into his memories. At 61, he walks past unchanged streets, revisits his old family home, and points out the rooms where a Bruce Lee poster once hung and where teenage violence simmered on Friday nights. He recalls his schooldays, including an infamous talent quest performance where his band, Bored Games, caused such outrage that the principal walked out twice. In these moments, the film establishes its rhythm, personal history woven with broader cultural shifts.
The early 1980s were a period of rupture in New Zealand, epitomised by the Springbok Tour protests. That tension between conservatism and rebellion is reflected in the rise of the Dunedin Sound. Flying Nun Records gave voice to artists who had no place in the mainstream and had to carve out their own space. Among them was Carter, a loud-mouthed, part-Māori, part-Pākehā teenager with a guitar and a refusal to conform. Gordon’s documentary treats this history not as a backdrop but as a living context. Interviews with scene heavyweights like The Clean and The Verlaines situate Carter within a movement while highlighting his singular trajectory.
Tragedy marks the transition from youthful posturing to serious artistry. The death of Wayne Elsey, Carter’s bandmate and close friend, is handled with tenderness. Even if the audience knows it is coming, the loss lands heavily, shaping both Carter’s music and his life. The song 'Randolph’s Going Home', born from this grief, becomes a defining moment. From there, the film accelerates into the era of Straitjacket Fits, the band that carried Carter and Andrew Brough dangerously close to international breakthrough.
The archival footage from this period is electric. Grainy yet exhilarating, it captures a band teetering on the edge of wider fame. There are interviews with Brough, recorded before his death in 2020, which shine light on the creative tensions that eventually split the group. Too much talent, perhaps, to share one stage. The film does not shy away from the ego clashes, but it frames them as part of the combustible energy that made the music so compelling.
After Straitjacket Fits, the story turns to Dimmer. Here, the documentary feels slightly hurried, glossing over Carter’s immersion in electronic textures and his signing to Sony. Still, it touches on his reinvention, from snarling improvisational noise to the atmospheric brilliance of 'I Believe You Are a Star'. Carter himself names this as his favourite work, the closest he came to broad acclaim. Rather than pursuing that path, he continued to reinvent, taking left turns into projects that often confounded expectations,.
One of the most moving sections of the film is Carter’s care for Chris Knox after his debilitating stroke. These scenes, together with reflections from fellow musician Peter Jeffries, highlight Carter’s resilience and loyalty to his community. His decision to create a piano album, despite not being a pianist, is described as both madness and genius, a testament to his refusal to be bound by convention.
Visually, the documentary balances the immediacy of live footage with the intimacy of present-day wanderings. Carter revisits old haunts, practice rooms, streets where bandmates once lived, and venues that no longer exist. At times, these sequences risk meandering, but Carter’s mix of cynicism and bemusement anchors them. His reflections on being an outsider, shaped by both his family background and his position in the music world, give the film an honesty that prevents it from lapsing into hagiography.
The sense of community is striking throughout. The film is filled with voices, friends, family, fellow musicians, many of whom are no longer alive. Their presence lends weight to the story, as though the Dunedin Sound was less a scene than a family. The bond between Carter and Elsey, in particular, is portrayed as central not only to Carter’s development but to the wider energy of the era.
Life in One Chord is not a critical deconstruction of Carter’s career. Nor is it a glossy promotional reel. Instead, it feels like a tribute to the Dunedin scene, made with Carter’s participation but never entirely controlled by him. Gordon’s long-term dedication to the project shows in her attention to detail, lingering on moments that might otherwise have been overlooked. The pacing sometimes wanders, but it gathers momentum, much like Carter’s career itself, from chaotic beginnings to considered artistry.
For audiences steeped in the history of Flying Nun, post-punk, and underground New Zealand music, the film is a treasure trove. It is filled with stories, songs, and footage that resonate deeply with those who lived through or later discovered that world. For others, especially those accustomed to mainstream sounds, it may feel niche. The noise, the grit, and the deliberate abrasiveness of Carter’s art are not softened for broader appeal. This is not a film designed to convert casual listeners, it is one made for those who already care.
And yet, even outsiders may find themselves struck by the resilience of the narrative. Carter’s life is one of persistence, through loss, through near-success, through reinvention. His journey embodies a truth about creativity, that it is less about fame and more about a refusal to stop making. That refusal continues, with Carter now writing music for the Royal New Zealand Ballet, a career turn as unexpected as any that came before.
Life in One Chord is a testament to both an individual and a scene. It honours the do-it-yourself ethos of Dunedin musicians who, with little support, created a sound that travelled the world. It honours a musician who never took the easy path. And it honours the friendships and tragedies that made that music possible. For those who know and value Shayne Carter, the film is a gift. For others, it may remain a curiosity, a glimpse into a world where rebellion, resilience, and art collided in a very particular time and place.
Life in One Chord is coming to Aotearoa NZ cinemas for a limited time from September 4
Find your nearest screening here