Metallica: Through the Never

It is no longer enough to merely make a concert film; any cinematic depiction of a musical act in their on-stage habitat now begs for the addition of something more. Gone are the days in which backstage snippets earned their inclusion through their contextual purpose, with promotional propagandising in pop documentaries the more common mode of contemporary operation. A concert offering focused firmly on the performance, rather than the performer, is an increasingly rare occurrence.

In compiling recordings of five Canadian shows in August 2012, Metallica: Through the Never endeavours to eschew the trend – and yet, the film’s emphasis on the music comes with its own extraneous material. Perhaps having said all they need to say in 2004’s Metallica: Some Kind of Monster, the band’s current members – vocalist James Hetfield, drummer Lars Ulrich, guitarist Kirk Hammett and bassist Robert Trujillo – barely utter a word unaccompanied by their instruments; here, their songs do the talking. Instead, the film channels the essence of Metallica’s music in a surreal narrative immersed in the depths of their lyrics and rock rhythms.

The movie’s title, taken from a song from the band’s self-titled 1991 album, offers an apt indication of the content to come: a marriage of traditional concert footage centred around their many hits, and a dream-like journey into an apocalyptic world inspired by their work. Under the supervision of director Nimród Antal, a filmmaker better known for features Vacancy, Armored and Predators, both intertwined elements are executed with intensity. Standard shots of the band from the crowd’s perspective, and a simple story set to their songs, just wouldn’t be enough.

For the former, Antal brings his A-game to the 3D IMAX presentation, swooping through the arena stage and cycling between Metallica’s members with technical precision and an astute eye for detail.  Weaving in and out of the intricately-orchestrated on-stage effects, suspended coffins and crumbling statues among them, he builds suspense in the rampant horror iconography lurking in their midst. Understanding the power live performance brings, he uses the band – each inhabiting their own corner – not only to demonstrate their musical prowess, but also to elevate the tension emanating from their expertly-rendered sonic fury.

For the latter, a loud, lengthy track listing that includes Fuel, Master of Puppets and Enter Sandman comes to life in the same vein as Pink Floyd – The Wall, as guided by Trip (Dane DeHaan, The Place Beyond the Pines), one of the group’s roadies. First, the passive Trip witnesses Metallica’s arrival and helps in the stage set-up. Then, he watches, rapturous, from the roaring stadium as the show swings into action. Too soon, he is sent on an errand that careens through the dark, disturbing imagery simultaneously unravelling as part of the concert or taken from past album covers – brought to life, or into a living nightmare.

Both segments achieve their aims, displaying Metallica, their music and its literal manifestation in a loving, suitably grit-infused light for the adoration of their audience. The combination also cultivates a sense of disharmony, one not out of place amongst the band’s material, but actually an uneasy by-product of the mis-matched, overly metaphorical components. Alienation abounds, and always not of the type the thrumming songs from decades in rock are designed to address. Two films – or a stellar concert documentary and an ambitious extended music video – exist in Metallica: Through the Never, both with their merits; their pairing is superfluous, in keeping with the genre.

Rating: 3 stars out of 5