Metallica: This Monster Lives

by Joe Berlinger

  I could understand why Phil was disappointed that there wasn’t more screen time devoted to the therapy scenes, but that was the reality of making a film like Monster. To get the emotional breadth of any one session, we’d have to show a lot of it, which from a cinematic standpoint just wasn’t a realistic option. The sessions often lasted several hours; even showing as little as five minutes of one was pushing it, given the time constraints of a film and the limits of what a viewer will tolerate before tuning out. As we found out when we tried to cut our first trailer, group therapy, even when it includes lots of emotional strip-mining, is still not very interesting to watch if it goes on for too long. Too many long stretches of therapy would have disrupted the film’s fundamental rhythm. Besides, Monster is not a film about therapy. It’s a film about personal growth, with therapy being one of the catalysts of that growth. What’s more, the therapy scenes are not solely about James’s growth. They’re also the story of how Phil brought Metallica closer together and, in the process, went a little too far.

  When I mentioned this to Phil on the phone, he asked me what I meant by “a little too far.” Before I could answer, he added, “You’ve never actually put it that way before. I’m curious what that means to you.”

  “It means that you wanted the therapy to go on longer,” I said.

  Phil disagreed, saying he never lost perspective and never got “too close to the process.”

  This exchange reflected a tension that Bruce and I often encounter. As I said earlier, I think there’s a similarity between how Phil conducts therapy and how we make films. Phil believes in forming relationships with his clients, and we believe in forming relationships with our subjects. But as far as I’m concerned, the relationships we form with our subjects aren’t open-ended; there are boundaries that need to be maintained. In the early days of the Metallica project, I chastised myself for agreeing to sit for a private therapy session with Phil, because it left the door open for Phil to assert too much control over this project. I thought I was seeing a little bit of the fallout from that decision in Phil’s baffled reaction when I said I couldn’t show him Monster without Lars’s permission. Phil probably felt, somewhat understandably, like an equal participant when it came to the film. That’s the danger of Phil’s approach: You form a relationship with your client and then feel a little jilted when you discover the limits of that relationship.

  My attempt to engineer a reconciliation scene between Metallica and Phil didn’t work because the situation wasn’t developing organically. (Courtesy of Annamaria DiSanto)

  I think that with any relationship involving an authority figure, such as a parent, teacher, or therapist, there comes a time when the pupil, student, or patient matures and pushes the authority figure aside. That’s exactly what I think happened with Metallica and Phil, and I was a little surprised to discover that he didn’t see it that way. To me, it looked like Phil was getting a little too close to Metallica and they were pulling away. James needed a break, a chance to stand on his own two feet, and Phil—to my eye—let his relationship with Metallica blind him to that fact. I had become friends with Phil, and I respected (and continue to respect) him immensely, but I saw him becoming increasingly intrusive, something the journalist in me couldn’t ignore in the editing room.

  There were times during the making of Monster when Phil made it clear that he was aware he was getting much closer than his original assignment—mediating the band’s dispute with Jason—would have required. You might remember that during James’s absence, Phil had said, “I know my role as a facilitator, and I know I overstep that boundary when I say things like this, but I believe that James is still passionate.” And to be fair to Phil, this blurring of boundaries came from the Metallica side as well. Consider this exchange, which we did not use in Monster, taken from a session held when James was away in rehab. Lars was telling Phil that he was concerned that one way James was rejecting Metallica was by refusing to see Phil as an equal and an ally. “What saddens me,” Lars said to Phil, “is that as we get closer, and I subscribe more and more to your way of thinking and guidance, it seems like you and James are losing touch. During the first six months of this relationship, there was so much headway that was made …” He turned to address the others. “The question is, how does whatever he’s dealing with [in rehab] relate to Phil’s way of looking at things? It’s almost like Phil’s role in James’s life has become nothing more than just a marriage counselor.”

  “You could be right,” Phil said.

  “That’s sad,” Lars continued, “because I feel that Phil is such an imperative, and part of this band in the same way that Bob is.” He turned to Kirk. “I look at the band Metallica now as you and Bob and Phil and James, and he probably looks at Metallica as me and you and James. And that saddens me.”

  When Lars said those words, he was in a very vulnerable state, and it’s completely understandable that he’d enlist Phil as a comrade at a time when James’s absence had created a shortage of comrades. But clearly, if Phil can be accused of acting like he was in Metallica, he didn’t reach that conclusion without some help.

  I thought Phil’s interpretation of his portrayal in the film was far too negative. In fact, Phil told me that either Bruce and I had a different “agenda” than he did or that we all had the same agenda but Phil hadn’t done a very good job of showing us what he does, which gave us a distorted view of his craft. I pointed out that a less-principled filmmaker might not have included the “tearful good-bye” scene, choosing instead to have Phil exit the film on more negative terms. I think the inclusion of the scene also undercuts Phil’s criticism that Monster neglects the warmth and love shown during these sessions. Think of it this way: One day James Hetfield is the kind of guy who says, in absentia, that he can’t deal with seeing anyone who represents Metallica’s business side, a category in which he includes even longtime producer Bob Rock. Months later, in the final scene with Phil, James, near tears, tells Bob he doesn’t want to let him go home. Then James turns to Phil and thanks him for all he’s done. The message is clear: Without Phil, James wouldn’t be the man he is today.

  In talking to Phil about Monster, I discovered that he was particularly disappointed with our use of the scene where he urges Metallica to get into the “zone.” He said it was the most painful part of the film to watch because it just felt like a cheap setup “with no value whatsoever,” merely a device to lead in to the part about Metallica deciding to let Phil go. The implication, Phil thought, was that the band’s annoyance with the “zone” was some sort of final straw. It made him look like he was completely out of touch with the band. It took one of the many therapeutic methods he used throughout the course of therapy and made it look like the centerpiece. Besides being dishonest thematically, Phil also thought it was dishonest chronologically, because it actually took place several weeks before Metallica told him they wanted to stop group therapy.

  As I remembered it, Phil’s “zone” stuff did piss off the band, and the film does mark both the date of the “zone” meeting (day 620) and that of Phil’s dismissal (day 684), so there’s no chronological sleight of hand. But I can see Phil’s point about us giving the zone scene a heightened importance in the film. In making any nonfiction film that deals with a complex series of events, you have to look for emotional touchstones that can help the story’s arc. Phil is right—the “zone” wasn’t actually the last straw that made Metallica want to end therapy, but it seemed to us like a lighthearted way to portray the growing tension between what Phil wanted for Metallica and what Metallica wanted for themselves. I thought Bob Rock tearing down the “zone it” sign was kind of a joke, but Phil saw it merely as mockery. “You know it’s not a joke—come on, man,” he told me. “I won’t debate that with you.”

  As I saw it, there were two basic reasons for Metallica’s relationship with Phil growing strained. The first was a “culture clash” that seemed to become more prominent as Metallica became more self-sufficient. The
“zone” is a perfect example of this clash: Phil tried to get the band to explore “meditative techniques,” while Bob, the other person trying to marshal this band through a process, suggested that what everyone needed to do was simply buckle down and work harder. The second reason was Phil’s aforementioned desire to get closer to Metallica and become perhaps more of a permanent fixture in the Metallica organization. Taking a broad view of the tension that led to Phil’s dismissal, I’d say it was due to a combination of these two factors. Phil thought of his job with Metallica as “performance enhancement” rather than therapy, the implication being that he provided a service that would be useful to Metallica as long as the band continued to play concerts and make records. Aside from any personal attachments Phil had formed with Metallica, he viewed his job as an ongoing position, sort of the mental-health equivalent of a pro sports team’s trainer. James, however, always told me he saw Phil as a therapist, someone to help get him through a rough patch. When he’d gotten through that patch, Phil’s services wouldn’t be needed anymore.

  The event that most directly led to Phil’s exit was a variation of the getting-too-close conundrum. The story is this: Before the fateful scene where Phil is let go, we see Metallica discussing their fear that Phil might think he’s a member of Metallica, as evidenced by his apparent plan to move his permanent home from Kansas City to the Bay Area. This concern is a catalyst for Lars wondering if they want to keep paying Phil $40,000 a month and if Phil thinks this arrangement will last forever. The genesis of this conversation occurred two days earlier. Metallica planned to travel to Los Angeles the next day for a press conference announcing the lineup for the summer tour. (This was the same fateful press conference that forced the cancellation of Metallica’s meeting with Jason Newsted.) Phil said he wanted to come along. Metallica discussed it and decided that there was no professional reason for Phil to go, no way in which his presence would further their therapy. It seemed to them like he wanted to go just to hang out, so they said they wanted to go alone. They went to L.A. the next day, and a day later had the conversation where Lars talks about Phil’s $40,000 monthly fee.

  As I saw it, Phil’s wanting to go to L.A. was justifiable and Metallica’s not wanting him to go was also justifiable. But when we edited that scene, it made Phil look like a hanger-on, which I didn’t think was fair or accurate. To avoid creating the false impression that Metallica canned Phil because he wanted to be present at too many band-related functions, it seemed to us more fair to Phil to highlight a scene that showed Metallica rejecting his methods. In fact, if we’d tried to communicate the “objective” event that triggered the conversation about Phil’s dismissal—the L.A. trip—I’m convinced it would have actually been less true to the spirit of what happened. It would have made Phil look shallow and made Metallica’s decision to end their relationship with him also look shallow. It would have cheapened both sides, as though this deep, intense relationship was cavalierly brought to an end by a road trip.

  Although I was disheartened by Phil’s insistence that he comes off as negative, I was proud that our relationship was still strong enough for us to talk about this subject at length. We wound up having several conversations about the film, and he was able to give me his side of the scene where he’s fired. I discovered that there was a layer to the scene that I didn’t know about.

  There were several instances during the making of Monster when Phil wasn’t present and I heard someone in the band express concern that Phil was prolonging the process. So it didn’t bother me that, in the scene where he’s dismissed, he seems to be pushing them to continue therapy against their wishes. I figured that the scene portrayed a conflict that had been brewing for some time. The situation, it seems, was perhaps more complex than the film would have you believe. According to Phil, Lars approached him several weeks earlier to discuss Phil’s continuing to conduct group therapy for the duration of the summer tour. Phil recalls Lars saying, “I want you within arm’s reach.” They discussed the schedule and Phil’s fee. Going into the fateful session, Phil says he had no idea that there was any change to these plans. Phil says part of his reaction, captured by our cameras, was pure bewilderment.

  “I was blindsided,” he explains. “The strength of my reaction was [because of the] surprise that there was a total collaboration [among the band members] and no discussion of me continuing. I would still like to know what happened. I’ve never challenged Lars with it. I might someday, but I don’t want to get involved in a sour-grapes situation. At the same time, I don’t want to be portrayed in a way that’s unfair. Maybe Lars had second thoughts. But I know he looked me in the eye and said, ‘I want you to be [on tour] with me.’ I know he was genuine.”

  Despite feeling hurt, Phil says that he was proud that the band had progressed to the point where they were able to unite, even if it meant uniting to show him the door. Although he had told the band that they could survive without him, he doesn’t deny that he felt there was more work to do (“The process deserved to continue; there were other ways I could be useful.”) but insists he would have reacted more gracefully to the news had he not made those arrangements with Lars. “I would have been disappointed, no question, but I was stammering because there was obviously a piece of me that wanted to say, ‘Lars, you and I talked about this, man. Where are you with this?’ But he was supporting James, and that was important, too.”

  Phil admits feeling an honest disappointment in that moment—not because he was losing his job but because he had grown so close to these guys. “I understand that as a therapist-performance-enhancement coach, it’s easy to hide behind my work as a way to avoid the degree to which I want to be involved with people. It’s also easy to get attached deeply to the people you’re working with, and I learned [by working with Metallica] that I needed that. Some of that struggle is manifested in the film. The part of me that felt it was hard to let go of the process wasn’t about me wanting to be part of the band. It wasn’t me wanting to be where I shouldn’t be or forcing myself upon anyone. I respect the film pointing out that struggle, because it was genuine. A process that I had been going through, professionally and personally, was coming to an end, and it deserved the honesty of my struggling with it. There was no way I could walk smiling into the sunset. There had to be some genuine struggle over my personality” In other words, this was a bona-fide breakup.

  “I never felt too close to them,” he continues. “You can’t feel too close to people you love. And that means a separation process is going to be that much more awkward. Part of me felt really good when we confronted each other, felt good that James rallied them around him and that group solidarity prevailed. I didn’t like being the one that was confronted, but I felt really good that that was evidence that they had grown. If I was a standard, traditional therapist, I could have gracefully exited, but it would not have been authentic to the level that we got involved at.”

  As I’ve said before, one of the hardest things about making a verité film is knowing when to stop filming. To varying degrees, that’s true with any creative pursuit. The recording of St. Anger (as we shall see) finally came to a halt because Elektra set a release date. Our film ended because St. Anger was complete and the band, with the addition of Rob and the launching of a huge tour, was whole again. Phil’s jurisdiction within the three-headed monster was therapy: He was creating a new band out of the ashes of the “old” Metallica, and I think he succeeded. The fact that Phil did not ultimately get to decide when his project was over does not lessen its importance. The monster wouldn’t be alive without him.

  CHAPTER 20

  FRANTIC-TIC-TOCK

  Technical difficulties with mastering St. Anger gave us a much-needed opportunity to show the band some footage from the film on a special chartered flight back to San Francisco. (Courtesy of Bob Richman)

  The first few months of 2003 were a blur of activity. After two long years, much of it spent in a state of lethargic disintegration, the new Metallica album wa
s actually starting to come together. A June release date was set, and tentative talks about summer touring began. This was a delicate subject, given James’s rehab travails. Life on the road would present some serious challenges to James’s new lifestyle. And his lifestyle, as James sang (but Kirk wrote) on the rapidly coalescing “Frantic,” could very well determine his “deathstyle.”

  There was a light at the end of the tunnel for us as well. If the album was nearing completion, that meant principal photography on Monster would reach a natural termination point, allowing us to return from the front and actually get to know our families again. The questions that had dogged everyone from the beginning suddenly became more urgent: What exactly were we making? And for whom were we making it?

  Back in the spring of 2002, when Elektra created the therapy-less trailer, there had been talk of us creating an Osbournes-like reality show. Most of the series would precede the album’s early-June 2003 release date. The penultimate show would air the day the album came out, and the last episode would lead up to an exclusive live concert. I was dubious that any network would be interested in such a show without the therapy scenes, but my first advice to Elektra execs had been that if they really wanted to do this, they’d better hurry up, since the pitching season is normally June and July—maybe August, if you’re lucky. I had on several occasions set aside time to go pitch the show in L.A., but the meetings never materialized. (Or if they did, I wasn’t a part of them.) Since we had a special relationship with Sheila Nevins at HBO (our patron on the two Paradise Lost films), we had pitched her directly, without Elektra. By October, she had passed, feeling that this material was not right for her America Undercover audience.