2004-07-16 - 8:18 a.m. The Metallica documentary both destroys and restores my faith in rawk and roll, often within the same scene. It is required viewing, right behind F9/11 A little long, but how else would the ending be such blessed relief? After over 90 minutes of Lars and James mumbling, inarticulately, about their feelings, and li'l-tagalong Kirk yammering on while his uninterested bandmates' eyes glaze over with boredom, the last 10 minutes of tour footage makes you remember: oh! these guys are musicians! and damn good ones at that! In fact, the joy on their faces (and their fans') as they storm the MTV audience and stride onstage on the opening night of their tour is so priceless, says so much more than any of their Spinal Tap-esque camera-ready ramblings, that I suspect the first 90 minutes of the film are a big set-up. As for funny moments, if you haven't seen the movie, I'm sure you've heard all the classic bits about the therapist and the ballet class...but no one tells you about the funniest, creepiest cameo: Lars Ulrich's dad, Torbin, a bearded old Danish hippie (and ex-tennis pro!) who lights up the screen for a while towards the middle with his sheer bizareness. The lesson of the Metallica doc, for me, is that no matter how revered, respected, talented, beloved, and graced with riches a person becomes, he or she can still carry around a crippling sense of inadequacy and failure. And everyone has to deal with that in the way they know best. The Metallica boys, through therapy, learn a new way of talking about themselves, but soon go overboard with that, too, using every possible opportunity to turn a conversation into a tear-filled psychodrama. By the end, the whole audience is rooting for them to just shaddup and play, and when they do, it's magic...and therapeutic, I think, for us and for them. Just wanted to belatedly mention that I'm thinking of going back to school to get my Master of Puppets degree. thoughts? (7 comments so far) previous - next blog archive contact