Hi...ist ganz interessant aber zu lang als das ich das heute übersetzen würde,vielleicht morgen,oder ein andere NewsMod:
Metallica sees a shrink
A documentary shows how therapy
kept the hard-rocking band afloat
BY JIM FARBER
Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich (r.) gets in the face of band frontman James Hetfield in 'Some Kind of Monster'
If fans were to envision the off-stage antics of the guys in Metallica, they'd probably picture them driving Harleys, scoring groupies and opening beer bottles with their teeth.
It's doubtful anybody would imagine the members of rock's most macho band sitting around in a circle with a therapist, let alone addressing each other with phrases like "I can't access your feelings," "What I need to hear from you..." and "What I'm hearing you say is..."
But the band's followers had better get used to such touchy-feeling mewlings, because they're the focus of a stunning film on the inner life of one of the world's hardest-rocking bands. Titled "Metallica: Some Kind of Monster" and directed by Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky, the 21/2-hour documentary opens Friday.
It goes way "behind the music" to show Metallica collaborating with a full-time shrink while working through problems that nearly cause the band to split, and which, at one point, send leader James Hetfield hurtling into rehab.
Unlike most rock-group tell-alls, "Monster" doesn't capture band members casually discussing their troubles years after the fact. It demonstrates their foibles in tense real time, as they open up about money, creative control and personal neuroses.
"The camera was a great lie detector," singer Hetfield says.
But how does he feel about having such unsightly truths made public?
"There are parts that are horribly embarrassing, parts I wish weren't in there," he says. "But image management isn't my department."
Hetfield never thought he'd have to consider such issues when the project began. It was supposed to be a routine promotional vehicle for TV, financed by the band's record company to capture them as they recorded their most recent CD, "St. Anger."
But what Berlinger and Sinofsky encountered when the job started wasn't the fodder of typical promo films. "The band was a mess," Berlinger says. "They hadn't worked in nine months and they had stopped being friends."
The group had just fired its longtime bassist, Jason Newstead, just as it was starting a new project. The members had no new ideas and dwindling patience for each other. The altered dynamic of the group, now a trio, brought age-old battles to a head. So its management company hired a "performance enhancement coach" (read: therapist) to help the band talk through its problems even as the cameras rolled.
"I hated the feeling that I was constantly under surveillance," Hetfield says.
In the early part of the film, he comes off as petty, controlling and sometimes plain mean.
"I was a rage-aholic," he admits. "I would build up resentment, then explode."
Hetfield spars most aggressively with drummer Lars Ulrich, the group's other potent creative force. Guitarist Kirk Hammett comes off as a voiceless wimp, floundering in the middle.
Even with the therapist's care, the tensions escalate to the point where the band considers breaking up. Three months into shooting, Hetfield walks out, giving the band a message that he has just entered rehab. He doesn't say when he'll be back.
The band and filmmakers think maybe five weeks.
They don't see Hetfield for 11 months.
When he finally does come back, Hetfield is in some ways a bigger bully than ever.
"I had been very passive-aggressive," he says. "I became aggressive."
Ironically, the band's therapist, Phil Towle, comes off as perhaps the strangest and most emotionally evasive person in the film.
"We all have issues," Hetfield says. "[Phil] has boundary issues in a different way. He'll get into people's lives and then not know when to stop."
As the film project dragged on - for more than two years it turned out - Elektra Records pulled its financing, believing the film would only reflect poorly on the group.
Remarkably, Metallica elected to buy back the rights and itself fund the entire $1 million project.
"They were brave," Sinofsky says. "They said, 'If this [movie] makes us look bad, then that's how we are.'"
Despite the sometimes unflattering portrait, the band wanted the film to have a proper theatrical release, rather than become a cheesy reality-TV show like "The Osbournes."
"We didn't want to sell the movie short," Hetfield says.
Supporting the film, while not knowing what the final cut would look like, became another way for the band to let go.
In the end, the therapeutic process did wonders for the trio. Hetfield was transformed by the process, and the group's members now deal with each other in dramatically different ways.
Hetfield believes the change will interest people beyond Metallica's fan base.
"This isn't just 'Rock Stars Gone Nutty,'" he says. "It has human qualities to it."
None more so, perhaps, than the story of a tough guy who learns to lighten up.
"Being able to access your feelings is not unmacho," Hetfield says. "Wanting to know about how your mind works is good. If your foot hurts, you go to a doctor. If there's something wrong with your head, you go to a therapist. It's simple."