Some Kind of Monster (2004)

Thrash metal was a short-lived subgenre of heavy metal that was popular during the Reagan Era. It mixed the technical complexity of heavy metal arrangements with the speed and aggression of hardcore punk, which was the OTHER form of extreme music popular at the time. Most of the countless bands--Mortal Sin, Powermad, Exodus, and on and on--have long since faded into the oblivion of yesteryear, but FOUR of them went on to succeed beyond their wildest dreams: Slayer, Anthrax, Megadeth (a band created by ex-Metallica guitarist Dave Mustaine), and the El Numero Uno, all-time champion bestsellers of the heavy metal genre, the rock icon behemoth known as METALLICA. A band that I grew up listening to from the first audiocassette tape I bought back in the Good Year 1989.

And that's because they changed with the times, trading the overtly grim imagery and the lyrics about Hell, nuclear war, death, dead and dying soldiers, and general nihilistic despair, for something a little more friendly to radio play. All of the bands did this, not just Metallica, all of the BIG FOUR of thrash; the bands that survived. Even Slayer changed their sound somewhat, grooving more on later records, not just blasting away about Satan at Mach Ten.

But Metallica outdid them all, as far as a sheer success by the numbers. 91 MILLION records sold, and the biggest concert tour attraction of the 1990s. They made an original documentary film in 1991 called A Year and a Half in the Life of Metallica which was pretty good, but redundant in spots because of the inclusion of some music videos that had already been on endless rotation on MTV. In between, we got interview clips (I can't remember much of what was said except by Lars Ulrich), and them lounging around the studio with producer Bob Rock (who appears in this film as well), working out their issues with each other and themselves, while recording the HUGELY popular mega-selling Black Album. It anticipated the "Reality TV" boom by decades. Kind of a groundbreaker. But then, Metallica always were pioneers.

But they made a BIG mistake with the Napster debacle. Should have left it alone. You can, in 2024, go to YouTube and hear all their music for free now anyway. Getting some list of fans, 350,000 names long, and passing it to the same system a lot of Metallica fans hate anyway, as part of a greed-fueled lawsuit against Napster--was a bad move. As Lars said, "I woke up one morning and decided I wanted to be the most hated motherfucker in music." Not an exact quote, and he was just being sarcastic--but not far off.

Most of this movie revolves around the recording of the much-hated St. Anger album, which does sound like shit. A few of the songs are okay. They recorded a video at San Quentin. They recorded the new material, or some of it I think, with Suicidal Tendencies bassist Robert Trujillo, who was given a million-dollar advance for joining the band.

At this point, Jason Newsted has quit, pursuing a band that is like a bad bar band embarrassment. The rest of Metallica has hired a psychologist or "life coach" or some shit to do embarrassing "encounter group" bullshit therapy sessions with them. The viewer, at times, will find themselves laughing, thinking "Spinal Tap." But they are all affable and likable guys.

James Hetfield goes to rehab. Lars Ulrich sells his art collection. Kirk Hammett rides horses at his ranch and surfs. They've gone from being scruffy, heavy metal punks to being "good-ol' fashioned, all-American square dad responsible citizens". Was there ever any doubt that massive success would do this to them?

Everything in this cinema verite of the Heavy Metal Heroes' fabulous world is brought to an ugly halt when Metallica fans are seen mashing their CDs under their feet at a protest over the Napster debacle. Meanwhile, a grumpy, middle-aged James Hetfield stumbles through the film, not seeming as if he is all there. Kirk Hammett seems typically reserved but doesn't want to be told how to play guitar. The creepy psych dude and encounter group bullshit wear thin. James Hetfield and all of these guys (Bob Rock observes that James, Lars, and Kirk are the "heart and soul" of Metallica--and he's right, of course) have long ago traded in their skin-tight jeans, long hair, crappy band shirts, high-top basketball shoes, and heavy metal gun belts, for bourgeois clothing that makes them look like the average golfer. James thinks driving around in an expensive custom-made "funny car" is an act of rebellion. (By comparison, Jason Newsted seems equally delusional to think that his side -project, the horribly named "Echobrain" will ever touch the heights of success achieved by Metallica, even remotely.)

No more singing the despair of an armless, legless soldier, no more banging away at the sins and madness of modern life; the video for "Whiskey in a Jar" looks like the average beer commercial. Metallica's meteoric success came at a price, a sort of trade-off in integrity as regards their original renegade spirit. Now, in this documentary movie, they seem as safe and commercialized and, frankly, just about as exhausted as any other aging pop act, heavy metal or otherwise.

This is not to say they have entirely sold their souls. Addressing the brutal cons at San Quentin, James tells them, "Anger is something I've dealt with all my life [...] If it weren't for music, I might be in here, or dead. I'd much rather be alive." It's hard to guess what the hardened cons assembled below, headbanging to Metallica think they might have in common with the millionaire rock star; but Metallica brought something into their world, in much the same way Johnny Cash did decades earlier, and gave them a little hope, a little musical redemption, a kind of brotherhood of blood and sound, for just a little while. It gave them an escape, if only internally. Music can be the salvation of our lives, the anesthetization and escape from pain, whether it's the street corner busking of some poor bastard, or the multi-million dollar stage show of world-famous heavy metal rock legends.

Music slays the savagery within. Otherwise, we'd all be some kind of monster.