Is there ever a reason, ever, for the biggest guys in heavy metal, ever, to ever reveal themselves, ever, in such a personal and arguably embarrassing way, ever?

When it’s as entertaining as this, yes. Yes there is.

Some Kind Of Monster is a startling look at the gigantic, metal band Metallica – but it’s much more than that. It’s a spectacle of rock stardom and socially inept, rich men that even those who could not possible care less about Metallica and their music need to watch.

Originally intended as a VH-1 special, Some Kind Of Monster quickly turned into a much larger project, eventually growing into a feature film. The result is a window into the places celebrity doesn’t ordinarily let you in; a snapshot of what money, power and freedom the working man could never dream of can do to people.

I went into Some Kind Of Monster largely with morbid curiosity. I was, at one time, a Metallica fan who really enjoyed their mid-period work. I haven’t really followed the band in any capacity since. When people started talking about this documentary, however, I paid attention. Grown men pouting and fighting and whining. In many ways, the talk said, it was not really about Metallica (the band) at all.

The talk was right on target. Cameras lurk in corners and at the back of the room, watching as multi-millionaires show the world that high school really never ends. Time is spent covering the creation of their St. Anger album, yes, but even that time is less about the music and more about the personalities trying to find how they fit in the small, insulated world in which they live.

Here we have a group of rich, influential men who allow themselves to be manipulated by a con artist, AKA: a celebrity psychologist, and paying him $40,000 a month for the privilege. We have a two band members consumed with retaining power within their little world (Lars Ulrich and James Hetfield), and a third band member who has wrapped himself into a protective shell, coming across more like a meek, teenage boy rather than a multi-millionaire rock star with full control over his destiny (Kirk Hammet). We have a producer who wants badly to be a member of the group (Bob Rock) that it’s sad to watch. Finally, we have two ex-band members at opposite ends of the spectrum – one pining for his day in the sun (Dave Mustaine, whose scene is worth its weight in gold), the other glad to have escaped (Jason Newsted).

They fight. They argue. And they do so like kids in the Chess Club. Passive-aggressive bullshit, taunts, trolling, temper tantrums. Kids. Bickering. Kids. Teasing. Kids. Wholly pathetic to watch.

Yet, so compelling that you can’t take your eyes off the screen.

All of this makes it incomprehensible that the band, which purchased the rights to the documentary, allowed to this to be released at all. To say it paints an unflattering portrait of Metallica is an understatement. These are self-absorbed, narcissistic, immature men who wield tremendous power and influence as one of the biggest heavy bands of all time, and yet most high school kids are better adjusted.

‘Immature’ may be one of the key words here. We watch as they are toyed with by an ubertherapist to the stars who manipulates them until he is almost a member of the group himself (he goes so far as to comment on the music while they record!) To the viewer, it’s abundantly clear the power this man wields over the guys. At one point, the band (rightly) decide it’s time to cut him loose. He drops a comment or two, puts them into guilt mode, uses his understanding of them to his advantage and suddenly the band is again begging to pay him $40,000 a month. It’s astonishing and sickening.

The documentary tries to be the story of how the biggest hard rock band in the world struggles through adversity, overcomes its demons and manages to stay on top while experiencing a new beginning, but it’s more twisted than that. It’s more twisted than that because the ending – the “new beginning” – rings so false. The “triumph” of their “comeback” feels hollow. They are three empty men who don’t care about their music and don’t care about each other, who continue being Metallica because it’s all they know, the only thing they know how to do, and because there are producers and record executives and therapists who push them to keep going because those producers and record executives and therapists will cease to make a healthy living if the band quits.

So depressing. Yet so compelling.

For Whom The Screen Tolls 
This is a documentary. Does the picture quality matter? No. No, it doesn’t. But if you need to know, it’s very good. Better than television quality. Perfectly adequate. But that’s not why you’re watching this. So don’t expect Lucas effects here.

As far as sound is concerned, unsurprisingly, this sounds fantastic. Even the menus sound great. Big, thick guitar riffs, crisp and clear audio (necessary because this is so dialogue heavy). If your home theater system sounds good, well, this will sound great. No complaints.

Extra Messiah
Surprisingly, Some Kind Of Monster comes equipped with a fantastic array of extras. There are two audio commentaries, one by the band and one by the filmmakers. Both add depth to what you see on screen, analyzing and clarifying and dissecting the spectacle of it all. There are no less than 40 extra scenes, and amazingly enough, a good portion of them are worth watching. There are a series of interviews with the band members about the film, and the guys come across as very aware of what they’ve done. They know how it all looks… and for them, that’s half the point. There are some videos and festival highlights, too. All in all, a great array of extra content for your dollar. Well worth it.

…And Justice For This DVD 
As said earlier, you don’t need to be a fan of the band to appreciate this. It’s such an astonishing look into the world of filthy rich rock musicians, any music or celebrity follower will be hooked 15 minutes into this. Normal folks pine to join this world… but after watching Some King Of Monster, I suspect that pining to subside.