Metallica: This Monster Lives

by Joe Berlinger

  The fact remains, however, that this therapy session was an amazing ride in its entirety. You wouldn’t want to watch the complete session on the screen, but it’s worth stepping back a bit to examine some things we didn’t use, as a way to contextualize what you see in the film. The following excerpts do not comprise the entire session verbatim (that would be about as interesting as watching our unedited dailies from start to finish), and they don’t include every line that we used in the actual scene, but they do form a good outline of what went down and when. To give you an idea of how we picked out parts to use, and the chronological context of those parts, lines that wound up in the finished film are in bold type. (The sequence that forms this book’s preface was also culled from this same session.)

  The discussion was actually a continuation of one that had begun the day before, during which James had tried to explain why it upset him when he felt like work continued after the time he was required to go home. He says that he doesn’t like walking into a situation where he thinks things have already been decided. James eventually walks out, slamming the door behind him. We see Zach Harmon, HQ’s studio manager, follow James to see if he’s okay, but what you don’t see is that Lars also followed James, for the same reason. (This was a prudent move on their part, considering that the last time James slammed a door on Metallica, he didn’t walk back in for nearly a year.)

  Early in the next day’s session, James haltingly tried to explain his actions from the day before. “I got pretty scared when I walked out there,” he admitted. Turning to Lars, he said, “I’m glad you came out and I’m glad Zach did, too. It was nice. I know I want people to follow me out there, and I hate the part of me that wants to walk out and leave, and make a dramatic exit…. I felt really suffocated then, really trapped. It was like I was battling again. I was putting out there some pretty vulnerable things, and I got some static back, and that scared me.”

  He said that the prospect of living a more structured life also frightened him. “I should feel good when I walk out that door, and not feel like I’m letting people down…. I’m starting to realize that I’m not as obsessed with this band as I was before, and I’m not as all-consumed by it. That’s healthy for me, but there are some things that go with that. I can’t stay here until whatever hour I like and work on stuff, because there are other things in my life that are as important.”

  He turned to Kirk. “You helped me yesterday when you said this is what you’ve been feeling like for fifteen years. You do your part, and then when you leave, we sit there and fiddle with stuff and make decisions. I couldn’t do that. I can’t live like that, I can’t feel healthy in that.”

  In the annals of Metallica, this was a historic speech. It was probably the first time either James or Lars had acknowledged the frustration that Kirk (and by extension Jason) had to accept as a condition of being in Metallica. Kirk, ever gracious, said that he had learned to “go with the flow of things.” He pointed out, quite astutely, that what James was experiencing was somewhat different, because it involved his relationship with Lars, an ongoing competitive back-and-forth between equals.

  At this point, James said, “In my mind it gets lopsided. The more it goes in a different direction, the harder it is to get that back.” Phil asked him to explain what he meant. “You know, I almost feel like a science project right now,” James said. “I walk out of here and it’s, like, Oh, how did it go today with ‘the project'? I don’t like that feeling…. I want to ask people if they feel like they’re treating me like a science project, or if they feel like they’re treating me like a human being, a person that wants to be involved. I don’t know, I guess I have fears of not being a part of stuff that goes on.”

  Out of the hundreds of great things we couldn’t find room for in Monster, James’s “science project” analogy was one of the more difficult ones to let go, because it so eloquently sums up what he was going through at that point. His fear was not merely that the others talked about Metallica when he wasn’t around, but also that they talked about him. In his fragile state, he was a work in progress, and it made him painfully self-conscious. The ongoing project of Metallica, which had occupied so much of his life for so long, was slipping through his fingers. At the same time, he felt like the others now viewed his very existence in the band as a sort of experiment, the outcome of which was far from certain.

  So, was he a science project or a human being? Bob had a lot to say on that subject. “Because of the lack of communication during the time that you were away, all we really had was the four of us and speculation,” he told James. “If you want to use that science project analogy, yeah, it turned into a bit of that. But the more time I spend with you, that just totally goes out the door. Just seeing you play guitar with the other guys makes it less of that. I mean, I think we all commented to each other that it felt like the next day, how stupid we were for all those months. But I’m not going to take all the blame—there was a lot of noncommunication, which you had to do, it’s understandable. I’m just saying it left the feeling of, like, What the fuck is going on? What happened to our friend? I’m not even in the band, but I’ve seen these two guys—” He pointed to Kirk and Lars. “—as well as you, go through the worst fuckin’ time of their lives. You were, but they were, too. We’d sit there and just fucking dream up all these wild things, ’cause we didn’t know what the fuck was going on. So the ‘science project’ kind of built out of that. But I’m here to say, fuck that shit. I don’t want to look at you as something different from anybody else, ’cause it’s not true. You’re still James Hetfield, you’re still the guitar player, you’re still the vocalist, you’re still the songwriter, you’re still an equal partner in this fuckin’ band.”

  Bob’s voice rose with emotion. “We love you, we care about you,” he continued, “but at a certain point you have to stop and go, I love this guy, but fuck—what about me? I told you that I was going to listen to the stuff from the Presidio, and basically what I heard yesterday is: No, I can’t do that. And I’m going, so I have to just sit there, because James is paranoid that I might do something? I have so much respect for you, Kirk, and Lars, I would never do anything without you being a huge part of it. As a matter of fact, we fucking hated doing the Swizz Beatz thing without you. There was a part of it that we all loved and enjoyed, but the whole time, we were going, ‘Where is James?’ Because we only had each other. We had to speculate, and it was really uncomfortable. So if Lars and I sit and listen to something, or go through the Presidio stuff, it’s not because we want to do something behind your back. It’s for you. And basically what I heard is, no, I can’t do that. I would never make a decision without you. It’s your band.”

  Lars had been fairly silent for a while. After some more talk about the meaning of trust, Phil tried to draw Lars out further, asking, “What are you thinking about?”

  “Right now, the way I’m feeling goes between anger and pity.” Lars turned to James. “You know, I don’t think you want pity, but I feel really sad for you for some reason. That’s probably the reason that it’s so hard for me to say a lot of these things, ’cause the effort you’re making to deal with things is valiant, and so pure. But I just think you’re so fucking self-absorbed and selfish. There’s a complete lack of respect for others’ point of view, or sacrificing your own needs, or caring about what I feel or what anybody else in this room feels…. I see, inside your eyes and inside your mind, a fucking thunderstorm, a hurricane that you’re trying to control. I can tell Bob how I feel about you, I can tell Phil how I feel about you, I can tell Kirk how I feel about you, but it’s really hard for me to look you in the eye and tell you how I really feel. I feel so much sadness that it’s come to this point, but when I’m not with you, I feel a lot of anger and resentment. I know that you and I want the same thing—it’s just that we are further apart than we’ve ever been before.

  “I know the hardest thing about you leaving at four o’clock is that you don’t really want to leave at
four o’clock,” Lars continued. “I know it’s a choice you make, but I don’t think it’s 100 percent. I know you want to stay past four and keep jamming and keep hanging, but because of the place you’re in right now, you can’t, and that’s what makes me hang on, ’cause I know we want the same thing. But in my moments of extreme anger and resentment, I don’t want to hang on—I want to run away. The key question has become: Do we want to make a Metallica record? What is ‘absolute trust,’ and is that necessary to make a Metallica record? If you’re not having fun, let me let it be known to you that I’m certainly not having a lot of fun, either.”

  Bruce’s leg pains were excruciating, which made us worry that his diabetes was out of control. (Courtesy of Bob Richman)

  Lars looked worn-out. James stared at him for a second. “I’m glad you said that. ‘Cause I really, deep down, feel sometimes that it’s just … that there’s some empty … just an ugly feeling inside. I don’t know … How much work are we gonna put into this? When you say we want the same thing, what is that thing?”

  “From my perspective,” Phil said, addressing Lars, “I believe the sadness that you feel is not just about your feelings for James but also about being hurt by his lack of trust in you.”

  “Of course it hurts me.”

  “Well, you don’t really talk about that,” Phil said. “That’s what I’m saying.”

  Lars nodded. “I’ll talk about that.” He looked at James. “It’s really fucking difficult to sit there and have you tell me that you don’t like being in there playing music with me. Yes, it hurts me, okay? I just don’t want to become a fuckin’ parody. Okay, so if you’re not happy playing music with me … [Lars makes his hooked-thumb “get the fuck out of here” gesture.]

  Phil pointed out that when Lars started to confront this sadness, it was easier for him to retreat and adopt an “ahh, fuck it” attitude. He asked James to try to look beyond the front Lars projected. “This is a twenty-year marriage between the two of you,” Phil said. “There’s great, great love buried underneath a whole bunch of fear, and a whole bunch of stuff that protects yourselves from being hurt. That’s what it’s all about. I guarantee you that.”

  After a bit more talk along these lines, Lars suddenly got up. Without saying anything, he stalked off into an adjoining room that had a Ping-Pong table. The others exchanged looks. James got up and followed Lars. Bob Richman followed discreetly behind them. James peeked in. Lars was walking methodically around the Ping-Pong table, muttering things as he did his laps. James came back to the table. Lars followed a few minutes later.

  “You all right?” Kirk asked Lars.

  “Never been better.”

  “See, that’s where I don’t trust you,” James said.

  “Good,” Lars replied.

  “Well, wait a minute,” Phil said to James. “When he said, ‘Never been better,’ you know that’s not what he meant.”

  “Right. And Kirk asked a real question.”

  “So what does that have to do with trusting him or not? If you know that’s his defensive maneuver, find out what he really is feeling. You went after him, you went to see him.”

  “I wanted to walk around the Ping-Pong table ten times,” Lars said. “So I did that.”

  “So what do you think about the fact that he came after you?”

  “Who, James?” Lars groaned. “I don’t know.”

  “Did you see that James came after you? To see if you were all right, I assume. What did you think of that?”

  “Um … I thought it was a nice gesture.”

  “Okay, so you got up and left the room to walk around the Ping-Pong table. That’s no different than him walking out and slamming the door, except there wasn’t as much noise….”

  “I just wanted a time-out for two seconds, okay? You play ten, you sit down for two games.”

  “Okay, but most people—”

  “And then you go back and play”

  “Yeah,” Phil said, “but if you leave a tennis match all of a sudden, you usually let everyone know what’s going on. So there was some concern for you, I think.”

  “And I appreciate that, I really do. Thank you. Now, is it not possible to appreciate that concern without necessarily … just the frustration, like, RRRRRRGGH.” He mumbled something about clearing his head.

  “To get to know you better, would you be willing to share the frustration that you were—”

  “I’m not sure there’s anything tangible. It’s just like … Fuck! That’s it, I’m not sure there’s much—”

  “Was it triggered by something?”

  “Beyond, like … I don’t know, just, fuck, time-out …”

  “So you went out and got some pressure reduced, and your adversary in this discussion went after you to see if you were okay. I think that’s pretty significant.” Phil was beginning to press Lars harder.

  “Well, I have to be honest with you, I wasn’t even sure who it was. I saw a body standing there.” He looked at James. “I realized afterwards that it was you. Thank you for that, okay, thank you, but—”

  “I’m not looking for a thank-you,” James said. “I just heard some noises that I don’t normally hear you make, and I went to go see what’s up.”

  “That’s kind of funny,” Kirk said, “because there are a lot of noises he makes.”

  Lars smiled. “The least of them, drumming.”

  “As long as it’s not slamming doors,” James said. “That’s mine.”

  “You got the market cornered on that one,” Lars said.

  “Then I’ve got to come up with something,” Kirk chimed in.

  “That door sounds pretty good, though,” James said. Everyone was laughing now.

  “You and my wife should have a contest,” Lars replied.

  Bruce, who had been sitting on the couch all this time behind Kirk, pointed out to him that our film now had two door-slams. Kirk shared this with the table. James said he liked the sound he’d obtained with the second one, and Bruce made a joke about punching up the sound of the first one when it came time to edit the film. Things seemed to be lightening up.

  Throughout all of this, Bob Richman never stopped filming. He was shooting with a three-hour tape, which he normally doesn’t like to use, because the sixty-minute tapes provide a natural break when it’s time to reload. The three-hour tapes forced him to keep his eye glued to the camera, without a break, in case he missed something. That was a good thing in this case, because there was so much great stuff to capture. He didn’t want to move at all, lest he upset the intense proceedings, so he stayed in the corner, using a wide-angle lens open as far as it could go, giving him a view of the entire room. (That’s why this scene has a sort of fish-eye perspective, which I like because I think it provides a sort of claustrophobic feel that’s appropriate for a scene about people getting uncomfortably close to each other.) Bruce, meanwhile, was glued to the couch, curled up with his face in his hands. Looking at the footage, I thought he adopted that posture to try to avoid being caught on film. Bruce told me much later that he was responding to the pain in his leg, which was particularly intense at that moment.

  Even as the tension seemed to be draining from the room, replaced by warm, fuzzy feelings, Lars was noticeably silent.

  “What are you thinking, Lars?” Phil asked. “Where are you?”

  “Huh?”

  “Where are you, man? Share it, please.”

  Lars’s reply was barely audible. “… frustrated that it has to be this way”

  Phil pressed the point. “What does ‘this way’ mean?”

  “The talking?” Bob Rock asked.

  “God, the talking,” Lars replied.

  Phil kept at him. “The talking or the pain of the talking?”

  “You tell me,” Lars said, a little louder now. “You’re the guy”

  “No, you tell me. You’re the one feeling it. And don’t mask it.” Phil didn’t raise his voice, employing the calm tone of a therapist.

&nbs
p; “I don’t know, I guess the frustration is … it’s like being on a treadmill. It’s been a year and a half and it doesn’t seem like we’re getting far.”

  Bob spoke up. “You’re kind of forgetting, though, I mean—”

  “Let’s figure out what he means,” Phil said, turning to Lars. “You mean—”

  “You want me to say it in the moment,” Lars began. He seemed agitated. “When I said a month ago that I would think about killing myself, it doesn’t mean that I would walk around and think about that all the time. It’s not an absolute. What I’m talking about right now is the frustration that I feel sitting here in hour 2,014 of this. Okay? It’s just frustrating sometimes.”

  “I understand that. I appreciate you being this honest and laying it out there. When it seems like this isn’t going anywhere, what’s it feel like to you? Like, angry? Scared? Do you feel like we’re never going—”

  “I’ll say it again,” Lars said, louder this time. “It’s frustration.”

  Phil wasn’t backing down. “Didn’t you say a while ago that you wanted to understand what James means when he says certain things? Well, I want to understand what you mean by certain things, too, so I can get closer to what you’re feeling. Getting up, walking around the Ping-Pong table ten times, coming back and wanting to say ‘fuck’ and saying you’re frustrated … I’m not any clearer about what that means. Maybe someone else can get it. You know, I’d like to understand.”