Music Month: Some Kind of Monster (Dir. Joe Berlinger & Bruce Sinofsky, 2h 22m, 2004)

Since the early 1980s, the American heavy metal band Metallica have cut a distinctive path through both metal and rock music in general, from their humble beginnings as worshippers at the throne of British Heavy Metal bands like Iron Maiden and Diamond Head to kickstarting thrash metal and evolving it through ever more progressively leaning records before quitting the genre for over a decade as they plunged into more traditional rock and the mainstream. Returning to their thrash metal hinterlands in the early 2000s, their path, despite being arguably the most successful metal band in history has been rockier, with underwhelming or divisive records, and in the case of their collaboration with the late Lou Reed, one of the most perplexing choices in modern rock history.

Their re-entry into the genre, in the form of the divisive St Anger, thus, rightfully seems the perfect topic for a documentary. Rockumentaries, it's fair to say, are rock's double-edged sword. Get them right, as in the case of Anvil! The Story of Anvil, or the exceptional Heavy Metal In Baghdad and you can go from a footnote of music history to a sudden overnight phenomenon, your music playing to multitudes more than you ever imagined, and your story of being an underdog finally pays off. Get them wrong, and you get unintentionally hilarious airings of collective laundry masquerading as cinemas such as Bros: After the Screaming Stops, where 80s pop twins Bros come across as likeable but utterly out of touch with reality, or the seminal The Decline of Western Civilisation Part II: The Metal Years, where lumbering titans of the then nascent glam metal scenes, including Metallica's rivals, Megadeth, Ozzy Osbourne and Lemmy live bewildering, largely intoxicated and quasi-Spinal Tap-esque existences.

Some Kind of Monster falls between the two. In places, the three members of Metallica, James Hetfield (guitars and vocals), Lars Ulrich (drums) and Kirk Hammett (lead guitar), are practically parodies of the rock-star lifestyle, fantastically wealthy people with multi-platinum albums arguing like a married couple about the dynamics of their world-famous rock band, or perusing their art collection that includes Pollocks and Basquaits. In others, they seem remarkably mortal, fragile people who, particularly in the case of Hetfield who spends much of the film's middle act in rehab for alcohol and drug issue, whilst the introduction of the band's therapist, Phil Towle, as un-metal a figure as it is possible to be, takes the film in directions as ludicrous as they are poignant.

The film begins, in essence with a recap of Metallica's fantastic success to the beginning of filming in 2001, and then leaps ahead to depict the positively draconian security for early listening parties for journalists of the completed St Anger, together with interviews that Berlinger and Sinofsky intercut throughout the film with various journalists grilling various band members. It also, briefly, notes the exit of Jason Newsted (bass), before work begins on St Anger. It's here, honestly, where the problems with the film, such that they are, begin to emerge. Certainly, when compared to the warts and all of the previous Metallica documentary, the colossally scaled A Year and a Half in the Life of Metallica, there's something defensive, something...safe, at least in the main, about Some Kind of Monster, palpable from the first frame to the last.

It's also fair to say that ...Monster has something of a reputation as a piece of cinema, as though shining a light into the darkness at the heart of Metallica's main trio (or, at the very least, Ulrich and Hetfield, as Hammett, for great stretches of the film joins us at the sidelines as his colleagues bellow and bicker and scream in each other's faces) somehow demystified the band, robbed us of their allure, as though Metallica-METALLICA, that great all American band (featuring a Dane on drums), were somehow weakened by speaking about their flaws and faults on camera, or by showing Lars Ulrich as a man whose passion for art extends to his lucrative sales of it in an extended sequence.

Following an opening credits sequence that neatly shows the evolution of Metallica over multiple performances of "Seek and Destroy" (from 1982's Kill 'Em All) from scrappy new kids on the block to the biggest band on the planet, we're then introduced to the band, their therapist, and their slow and often painful attempts to make their new record. St Anger, for its part, is indelibly linked to this film, sharing its title with arguably the best song on the record, and showing the band working on the songs, although the making of the record itself seems to take a back-seat to the depiction of the dynamics, ego and relationships of Metallica's members.

Yet, it's also fair to say that St Anger the record is a mess. It's the sound of a band who, as the film indicates from its opening minutes, haven't played live in nearly three years and not played as a group for nearly a year. Compound that with the loss of the ying of much of the group's collective yang, in the form of Newsted, and Metallica attempting to reclaim their place on the throne of metal now warred over by the nu metal bands that clearly tinge the more aggressive, lower tuned sound on St Anger, as well as the fact that the band are quite literally in parts making it up as they go along, and it was bound for disaster. Even in the best light, it is an angry, messy, emotional thing, made by angry, messy and very emotional people.

It is at this point in the film, as Metallica move into spartan accomodation at a former army barracks that their therapist arrives in the film. Here, thus, begins what, subconsciously or otherwise, the key themes of the film; male identity, ego and, undoubtedly, hubris. The band, of course, largely write it off as a joke throughout-there's a moment when the band wander into their performance space, together with producer/then bassist, Bob Rock, to find posters about "the zone" and emotion tacked up on amplifiers, which they subsequently tear down and mock. Yet, the film also features multiple sequences where the band members, together and alone, talk about their emotions, from the outlaw-ish persona that Hetfield uses as a tool, his love of the open road, the loss of his mother, to Ulrich's clear love for art, his strong relationship with his father, and, in one memorable sequence, his seeking approval for Metallica's new direction from him, as well as the relationship of all the band members with their spouses and children.

At this point, with the embryonic St Anger taking shape, Hetfield exits the film's middle act to therapy, and it is here that the film is arguably at its best, certainly its most revealing, as Ulrich, Hammett and Rock discuss the very future of Metallica, whilst waiting to see when, or indeed if, Hetfield will return. At the heart of Some Kind of Monster is the relationship, unquestionably, between Hetfield and Ulrich, between these two alpha-male figures at the helm of Metallica, between two men that have known each other for, at this point nearly two decades. The film drifts along, waiting, as Metallica wait, for Hetfield's return.

We, of course, see Ulrich's art collection be packed up, be sold for eye-watering prices in the film's one truly crass moment, we see Ulrich make amends of a sort with former member Dave Mustaine, and the effect that Metallica's rivalry, and through it, the rivalry of its fans, with Megadeth has caused. We even fleetingly touch base with Newsted, though the film's lack of balance, its ability-or indeed reluctance to address the fact that the band's bassist was bullied and belittled by the other members and his eventual departure was caused by the band's unwillingness to let him work on side projects.

Hetfield eventually returns, and with him, strict stipulations on the band's hours, the rest of it spent either in squabbling matches between the aggrieved Ulrich, who feels that his friend and colleague is slowing down production, or stopping him from maintaining progress, at one point instructed by Rock to scream obscenities to add to a track, the one moment the mask of frustration splits into pure anger. Hetfield elsewhere is mask-like, barely reacting at one point as Ulrich gets almost nose-to-nose with him, bellowing in his face, the film at one point juxtaposing the band jamming with fans with a downbeat Metallica feeling unable to connect with their vocalist and leader.

It is only later, with the introduction of bassist Rob Trujillo, following a successful rehearsal with the rest of the band that he starts to feel more comfortable and relaxed, that, for lack of a better word, Metallica start to feel like a group again. The film then covers, perhaps in needless depth, the build up to St Anger's release, including wrangling over the title, the final, seemingly perfunctory meeting with the increasingly distanced figure of Phil Towle, the filming of the video for St Anger, which ends with a surprisingly emotive moment in which addressing the prisoners of San Quentin Prison, the mask of James Hetfield the rock-star briefly slips to reveal a man left emotionally wounded by a turbulent childhood and essentially saved by his music and his band. Around these moments, the third act drags on, culminating with, in a largely unnecessary coda, both the band's appearance at the MTV Icons in early 2003 and the tour to support St Anger, the film ending with the band playing the title track on yet another colossally successful and lucrative tour for another successful and lucrative album.

What Some Kind of Monster is, in short, is perfunctory, a quick twitch of the curtain to reveal that all is largely well at Metallica Ltd, that the band are, of course, reasonably well adjusted people, that the new album was a product of three men and their hanger on cum producer baring their soul in a raw and authentic document, that the new bassist is party to this spirit and the correct choice after the years spent chasing fame and glory with the other guy. It, of course, goes without saying that, at points the band are reminded they're in a documentary that they're paying for. Of course, one could bluntly remind oneself that St Anger was in all senses, a disaster of a record, stymied by terrible production songs that never ends, and, in one of the most bizarre choices of Metallica's career, Lars' infamous snare sound.

One could remind oneself that, a full decade after this film was made, Metallica made another colossally experimental record (at least from the perspective of considering it as a record by Metallica, as opposed to Reed), before finally withdrawing to the comfort of playing fast angry music with occasional melodic outliers, never to try new things to date. One could remind oneself that, in the politest possible sense, Metallica, and most importantly, Hetfield, didn't learn anything from therapy, from their experiences with long-form self-reflection, with much of 2019 written off as he returned to rehab. Newsted and Mustaine, for all their recent reappearances with Metallica in various forms, still feel like punching bags, placeholders for better or more level-headed musicians respectively, with Newsted particularly in the shadow of not only the departed Cliff Burton but now Rob Trujillo

Some Kind of Monster, thus, is a largely disappointing document. It, certainly, is not the memetic mess I was expecting, complete with Lars bellowing in furrowed-brow confusion "HE FUCKING LEFT THE BAND", but it is too po-faced to show Metallica as capable of poking fun at themselves, as they have done in more recent years. Neither is it a revealling piece of cinema. With the possible exception of a focus on the band's life away from the studio, not a glimmer of information that couldn't be gleaned from magazine articles or album reviews ever comes into focus, and even the film's central conceit, the conflict between Ulrich and Hetfield for Metallica's direction, and for their friendship, never feels important enough to be its focus. Far from being a roaring frankenstein of a film-and a record-it's a rather meek, occasionally meandering depiction of a band that just happens to be the biggest band in metal making a mediocre record.

Rating: Neutral