The wild lifestyle and behaviour of rock musicians has given many a rock documentary a free-wheelin anything-could-happen flavour. The best rock documentaries capture the fighting, bickering, drug abuse, and just plain craziness of the musicians they follow. An infamous example is the Maysles’ brothers’ Gimme Shelter (1970), a recording of a free concert given by The Rolling Stones at the Altamont freeway which caught on celluloid the stabbing-murder of a concert-goer, turning that doco from a statement about the power of music to bring people together, into undeniable proof that the hippie movement was in its death throes -- and in doing so, it brought a grim end to a decade of peace, love and flower-power. Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky’s Metallica: Some Kind of Monster doesn’t simply record a significant moment or concert, but serves us up a three year slice of Metallica’s life as a band. It starts as a fairly conventional account of the recording of the band’s first studio album of new songs in five years, and deals with everything this entails: rehearsals, creative blockage, acoustic experimentation. But as these recording sessions unfold, something else happens, and the centre of focus shifts to the growing tensions that mount between James Hetfield and Lars Ulrich, the only two members of the current line-up who have been with Metallica since the band’s formation in 1981, and the two members who have the most complex and emotionally-charged relationship, a relationship that goes all the way back to their teenage years when they sat together listening to Deep Purple records for hours on end. But just as we think we’re settling into a doco charting disintegrating and strained relationships, James checks himself into rehab, and the recording of the album is put on hold for almost a year, during which time the remaining members of the band aren’t sure what the future holds for Metallica, if anything at all. In an interesting parallel, the future of the film is also put on hold, as Metallica decide whether they even want it made anymore. Berlinger and Sinofsky have included a scene where they have a tête-à-tête with the band members and discuss possible solutions to Metallica’s lack of interest in the doco and their weariness at being constantly followed by mikes and cameras and at the constant invasion of privacy. After some retooling the filming continues, and now becomes a record of the emergence of a new direction for Metallica, as they put the finishing touches on St. Anger, re-cement their friendships, and audition bass players.

Strictly speaking, rock films are for fans of the music only. And while a doco on Metallica would usually carry the tag, "metal fans only need apply", something happens in this doco which changes that. That something is Phil Towle, the band’s on-call psychologist, a pasty little guy who enters this group of tough rockers in order to help them reconcile their differences and work together on the making of their new album. He wants them to get in touch with their sensitive sides, let their emotions out, and lay themselves bare to each other. This process is as insightful as it is humorous. And non-Metallica fans will be able to find a point of entry through Phil who, as the doco develops, becomes almost as central as the band members themselves. And the changes Phil undergoes are as radical as any of the changes the band members undergo. After a year with Metallica, he has settled nicely into his position, can be seen swaying along to the beat at recording sessions he attends, and even jotting down possible song lyrics. Phil even suggest at one point that he come on tour with the band in order to oil their psychological harmony. He becomes so engrossed with Metallica that at one point James wonders if Phil views himself as a fifth member of the band. It’s a tragic path for Phil. Eventually, the band no longer feel they need his services and decide to let him go – he takes it hard, a personal blow, saying, "if you want to do that to me, I can handle it."
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After all the arguments, laughs, difficulties, after the digging up of old dirt, after a memorable confrontation between ex-Metallica guitarist Dave Mustaine and Lars Ulrich, after a relaxing of tensions between Lars and James, after the firing of Phil, we are brought back to an awareness that, after all, these are only digressions into the band’s life during the making of their album St. Anger. And this doco certainly allows for a deepened appreciation of this album. We have an insight into the tumultuous and sometimes pained emotions that were poured into its songs over the three years in which they were intermittently written and recorded. While Metallica: Some Kind of Monster is by no means without flaws, and while it tends to be unfocused and meander in parts, to criticize it for these shortcomings would be missing the point of a rock doco which, in its best incarnations, flows with the same unpredictable rhythms as the lives of the musicians it presents. It’s an all-or-nothing experience, you have to take it or leave it as it is. Or as Gonzo wildman Hunter S. Thompson might say, if you "buy the ticket, take the ride."