METALLICA: SOME KIND OF MONSTER
Reviewed by Harvey S. Karten
IFC Films, Third Eye
Grade: C+
Directed by: Joe Berlinger, Bruce Sinofsky
Cast: Kirk Hammett, James Hetfield, Dave Mustaine, Jason
Newsted Bob Rock, Phil Towle, Robert Trujillo
Screened at: Sweetland, NYC, 6/30/04
The funniest line in my all-time favorite picture, "Amadeus," is
uttered by the Austrian emperor upon hearing a new
composition by Mozart. "Too many notes," he proclaimed, to
the amusement and happiness of Mozart's rival, Antonio Salieri.
If Franz Josef heard too many notes, then one could
conceivably argue that Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky's
"Mettalica: Some Kind of Monster," has too few. Heavy metal
fans are familiar enough with the music of bands like Metallica
and Megadeath, but for those (like me) who go to movies to
enter new worlds, there could have been more songs. Not a
single one was sung to completion, whereas I'd hoped that
Berlinger and Sinofsky would be inspired by "Festival
Express"–which allowed the 1970 Canadian Rail tour groups to
sing each of their works in their entirety. But this is not the fault
of the directors, since they've come right out and said that "this
is not about music; it's about relationships."
Fair enough. What about the relationships? The interactions
that go on backstage, in the rehearsal halls, and on tour, are
unknown to the heavy-loving public except for what they might
read in the supermarket tabloids. "Metallica" clues us in to the
frictions, the hostilities, the personal difficulties of the highly
successful band with a phenomenal 20-year history. What
makes the film transcend its subculture is that it allows us to
imagine why so many music groups, successful as all-get-out,
wind up splitting, leaving some individuals to go it alone or to
hook up with new personnel.
This nicely photographed movie, three years in the making,
occurred at a time that the most popular heavy metal group of
all time was at risk of falling apart. The management officials
hired a therpist, Phil Towle, to be at the full-time disposal of the
band at $40,000 per month, considerably more than the $150
an hour that Woody Allen's shrink gets paid, but if he could
keep the group together, that would be money well spent
considering that 90 million of their albums have been sold
worldwide during their tenure.
Despite the millions that James Hetfield, the band's frontman
was making, he was not immune to addiction, forcing him to go
into rehab at the time that the pic is being filmed. Lars Ulrich,
the band's most articulate member, seems to have issues with
Hetfield. The two barked at each other like a pair of fighting
cocks in Haiti.
At two hours and twenty minutes, however, the story is
overlong and repetitious. The film-makers make their point over
and over that money may buy some happiness, but it seems not
as successful in creating peace among its recipients. Never
mind that the guy are aware that any breakup could cut their
income drastically.
The film does have a bold finale when we finally get to hear
some extended music from their St. Anger album, and we see
that there is a bigger audience out their for the rage that they
express in their singing than for the dainty string quartets of
Mozart.
Rated R. 140 minutes. © 2004 by Harvey Karten
at harveycritic@cs.com
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