When filmmakers Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky began following the six-time Grammy winners in early 2001, they thought they'd capture the making of Metallica's tenth album, St. Anger, and call it a day. Instead, they found a band on the verge of a breakdown. James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich and Kirk Hammett were creatively deadlocked, emotionally depleted, in one case dangerously inebriated and about to lose their bass player, Jason Newsted. Metallica agreed to experiment with group therapy led by enhancement coach Phil Towle and to keep the cameras rolling. The surprising result, Metallica: Some Kind of Monster, hits theaters in July. Editor at Large Hara Estroff Marano spoke with Hetfield, Ulrich, Hammett and Towle about rage, the rocker mystique and a quieter type of headbanging: therapy.
I'm impressed by the risk you took. You guys had a crisis, you dealt with it, you got to the underlying issues, you survived and you did it publicly. The film and the psychotherapy seem intertwined.
Lars Ulrich: In retrospect it seems like there was a crisis, but it unfolded in a very organic way. We were anticipating our friend Jason Newsted's departure from the band, and our managers asked if we'd be interested in having a guy there who could calm things down in case furniture became airborne. Jason, our bass player, sat down and said, "OK, I'm out." We spent the next 8 or 10 hours dealing with that. And as we started chipping away with Phil, we were introduced to different ways of looking at things. It felt new, really comfortable and challenging. When you spend 20 years avoiding intimacy with people you're around 24/7, and the opportunity to connect finally arises, you jump at it. Then the cameras started showing up. The path that this band had taken many years earlier was to be as accessible to the fans as possible—allow them to partake in some of what we were doing. It's a little ironic that we spent so much time trying to connect with our fans but could never actually connect with each other. In some ways, the cameras acted as a truth-instigator. They were insurance that we would not bullshit each other.
James Hetfield: I'm very proud of the film, too. There's still a part of me that doesn't want to give away our innermost fears—our big fear of intimacy. I still struggle with this every day. But I know this has the potential to help other bands and other people, to just blow away that mystique of the rock idol who leads the perfect life.
A lot of men think that if they open the door to their feelings, they'll get sucked down a hole they'll never escape from. Were you ever afraid that the band would lose the magic or its edge?
Lars: I never thought that, because it happened so naturally. Phil opened that door. It was amazing to sit there with people who you'd spent over half your life with and get to know them for the first time, get to love them for the first time.
James: I know that we created some type of spark with our negative energy, and I know we can do the same with our positive energy. We've used a lot of energy going nowhere. But as far as losing my edge, I feel I'm sharper than ever.
Some people see therapy as a sign of weakness, but you guys make it into a source of strength. Do you think people have it all wrong?
Kirk Hammett: Yeah. This is a train I should have caught a long time ago, and I instantly recognized that. Doing something for your mental health through therapy is just as good as going to the gym for your physical health. I've always been open-minded, so opening my mind up to therapy never really was a problem. It was getting my foot through the door.
James: Whether people look at us as a bunch of freaks or a bunch of pioneers doesn't matter that much to me. The fact is that we're doing it, and getting a lot better at just letting go of what other people perceive. All therapy is about communication, and you're using the therapist as a backboard or mirror. If you can face your fears, you're going to be a stronger person.
Lars: If anything, when we talked about how people would perceive what we were doing, we were proud. We were ready to shout it from the rooftops—to let people know that we were connecting, and feeling comfortable about the new language and the new set of tools Phil helped us with. Therapy is kind of like a think tank for your brain: how you connect with yourself, with the people around you.
Several months into group therapy, James walked out one day for what turned out to be nine months of rehab. What made you decide to go into rehab?
James: There were really two me's. There was James of Metallica; everywhere I go I'm associated with that. Then at home I was trying to escape it. But a lot of what helped me escape out there, or feel more comfortable with being this guy in Metallica—my lack of boundaries, all the drinking, the screwing around, the wreckage I left on the road—eventually made its way home. My wife, strong person that she is, put a stop to it.
Lars says he always felt you were softer than you allowed yourself to be. Was alcohol a prop for the macho stuff?
James: I agree with Lars. And it was a lot more than just alcohol. What does "macho" mean? To me it meant: "Here I am, back off, keep your distance." That worked really well for me, because keeping people at bay was a survival technique from childhood.
Control is a big theme in the film.
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