Pop Music Demons
Directed by Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky, Some Kind of Monster was originally conceived as a six-part miniseries (think: Behind the Music) for VH1. The project soon outgrew its initial aspirations as the band’s members — James Hetfield (vocals, guitar), Lars Ulrich (drums), and Kirk Hammett (guitar) — found themselves overwhelmed by the pressures of keeping Metallica together amidst escalating tensions between cofounders Hetfield and Ulrich and the departure of longtime bassist Jason Newsted.
With their biggest moneymaker about to implode, Metallica’s management company, Q-Prime, hires performance coach Phil Towle to help the band work out its inner demons. For readers unfamiliar with these demons, they include drugs, alcohol, sexual promiscuity, and constant infighting.
When the group therapy sessions that follow only exacerbate the alienation and anger the band’s members feel toward one another, Hetfield suddenly chooses to enter rehab for alcohol addiction. With the future of Metallica on hold, Ulrich succeeds in becoming one of the most hated men in rock ‘n’ roll (the top spot goes to Paul McCartney) by suing Napster and thereby becoming a poster boy for greedy rock stars. Hammett, meanwhile, is shown surfing and riding horses on his ranch in Northern California. After Hetfield’s return, the band members manage to reconcile their differences and complete their album, which went on to sell over two million copies (their last album sold five million) and win a 2004 Grammy.
The Banality of Sin
In many ways, this documentary is about James Hetfield’s choice to become a responsible husband and father. In one particularly candid moment, Hetfield recognizes how the perceived perks of being a rock star pale in comparison to the joys of family life. “It’s a total rebirth for me, looking at life in a whole new way,” confesses Hetfield. “All the other drinking and all the other junk that I was stuck in; it was so predictable, so boring. I’m out there looking for excitement, and all this stuff…. The results were the same…. I wake up the next day somewhere in some bed. I don’t know who this person is next to me. I’m drunk, completely hung over, and I have a show to do. And the result is the same. And life now is pretty exciting.”
Hetfield’s epiphany aside, Some Kind of Monster is not exactly a family-friendly flick. But, then again, parents should already know that. In addition to the usual vices — promiscuity, drug use, violence — that inevitably accompany the rock ‘n’ roll scene, heavy metal is often distinguished by a sugarcoated satanism. Metallica’s members, for instance, are sometimes shown giving one another the “two-horned salute,” and concert footage reveals that this sign is very popular among Metallica fans. (Paradise Lost, a previous documentary by Berlinger and Sinofsky, discussed allegations that Metallica’s music influenced three teens accused of ritually murdering three young boys.) Metallica, however, explicitly denies any connections to satanism and while their music does contain references to satanic practices (“Mercyful Fate”), other songs, such as “Creeping Death” and “God that Failed,” have strong Christian overtones. The truth is that religion, satanism included, seems to play no role whatsoever in the lives of Metallica’s members.
As for sex, violence and drug use, Some Kind of Monster surprises. The movie does not contain any sex scenes (although concert footage shows two very brief scenes of women baring their breasts). The movie also does not include any overtly violent content. Moreover, while drugs and alcohol — the group was once know as “Alcoholica” — have plagued Metallica since the band’s inception in 1981, Some Kind of Monster actually has a strong anti-drug and–alcohol message. One of St. Anger’s best songs, “Sweet Amber” — “She deals in habits, deals in pain; I run away, but I’m back again…. How sweet does it get? It’s never as sweet as it seems” — laments Hetfield’s battle with alcoholism. Kirk Hammett likewise mentions that his former addiction to cocaine made him “useless” and “depressed.”
Although since it is a documentary Some Kind of Monster is not rated, the movie is saturated with crude and profane language; St. Anger also carries an “explicit lyrics” warning. Cursing is not only a habit for Metallica’s members, but part of their image as head-bangers. Ulrich, for instance, is asked to shout the F-word into a mic for use in one of the album’s songs. After Ulrich, red-faced and hoarse, collapses onto the ground, producer Bob Rock says, “I want four of them. Do it again.” Jesus’ name is also profaned several times.
A Beast with a Heart
Now while it could be argued (though not by me) that shouting the F-word into a mic is a poignant example of existential angst, in the hands of Ulrich and Rock it’s just a tired stunt. This is not to say that Metallica’s members have no reason to be angry — or that, as St. Anger’s title track suggests, anger can be healthy. Anger, or righteous indignation, is healthy — especially when it is not self-seeking. Metallica’s anger, however, cannot justifiably be directed at the government or the economy (both of which have permitted Metallica to become fabulously wealthy) — or even God. (You have to believe in God to be angry with Him.) Rather, Metallica can only be angry at itself. And, to its credit, the band seems to understand this. Most of all, Metallica’s members are angry because they have lost their personal identities in the concept of “the band.” As Hetfield explains: “You might look at [the bigness of Metallica] as a friend; to me, it’s been a beast. And it’s just sucked a lot of me into it.”
What keeps this movie interesting is the question of whether — and how — Metallica’s members will be able to free themselves from their destructive passions without losing the drive to make the angry and aggressive music that has fueled their commercial success. Phil Towle, the pop psychologist Metallica is paying $40,000 a month, adds a comic element to all of this by convincing the band to agree to “mission statements” like the following: “We come now to create our album of life. Throughout our individual and collective journeys, sometimes through pain and conflict, we’ve discovered the true meaning of family. As we accomplish ultimate togetherness, we become healers of ourselves and the countless [others] who embrace us and our message. We have learned and we understand. Now we must share.”
While Towle helps facilitate dialogue between the band’s members, even Metallica finally grows weary of what Phil is peddling. As Bob Rock comments, “Sometimes it just bugs me.” Overall, Towle does more harm than good by intensifying Metallica’s self-absorption. He also makes Metallica look just plain silly. As Kay Kay, a former fan, puts it: “I used to really like Metallica…. But here they sound like a bunch of teenage girls whining to their therapist. Metallica sucks.” Some Kind of Monster thus shatters the image of what Metallica’s fans think a heavy metal band should be — tough, cool, brazen. Hence, most kids will probably be turned off by this movie and, eventually, by Metallica itself. For that, we can be grateful.
Copyright © 2006 by Jameson Taylor
Jameson T. Taylor is the author of America's Drug Deal: Vaccines, Abortion and Corruption. He is also a Ph.D. candidate in political philosophy at the Institute of Philosophic Studies of the University of Dallas. Mr. Taylor’s interests include bioethics, personalist philosophy, life and family issues, and American politics. His work has appeared in Catholic Digest, Citizen, HLI Reports, Lay Witness Magazine, and Our Sunday Visitor. His current projects include a book on the theme of community in Pope John Paul II’s The Acting Person.
Questions can be directed to him at www.americasdrugdeal.com or by calling 540-636-3549.
