metallica: through the never

As a longtime Metallica fan (albeit somewhat lapsed in recent years), I’m not exactly sure why I didn’t catch the band’s splashy, high-concept 3D concert film Through the Never when it first released over a decade ago. Perhaps I just failed to grasp the project’s unique level of ambition at the time. At any rate, a recent screening at LA’s Academy Museum offered a rare opportunity to see the film exactly as it was intended - on a massive screen, with the sound mix deliberately calibrated to pulverize your eardrums into sawdust.

Directed by Nimrod Antal (Predators), the film chronicles a Metallica show for the ages at an unknown venue in an unknown city (in actuality BC Place in Vancouver). The set, however, is juxtaposed against the narrative misadventures of roadie Trip (Dane DeHaan), who’s pulled aside as the band shreds their way through opener Creeping Death and told he has to venture into the urban underbelly in order to refuel a truck that’s carrying an item of “supreme importance.” A simple enough task, but one that quickly turns into a surrealist nightmare as the city descends into apocalyptic anarchy… seemingly fueled by the concert’s unrelenting intensity, which begins to destabilize the very fabric of reality itself.​

The project was clearly conceived as Metallica’s version of Pink Floyd’s The Wall, though the narrative component is wobbly at best. You’re much better off simply allowing Antal’s meticulously-staged and expensive-looking high-def imagery (the film reportedly cost over 30-million) to wash over you as an abstract visual expression of the music, rather than trying to make any particular sense of the arbitrary plot turns. The limitations in approach are self-evident. The movie is virtually dialogue free (choking off any temptation for expository interludes), while the story was designed not to interfere with the concert’s propulsive pacing; the band powers from one track to the next like a boxer hurling haymakers - there’s barely time to breathe. Nonetheless, the dramatic shape might have been more thoughtfully honed… the ending limps into anticlimax with no particular payoff (the leather bag Trip eventually obtains from the stranded truck is never directly addressed… I had to Google to determine whether it was simply a cheeky Pulp Fiction-type situation. Apparently it isn't).

Metallica’s set list proves sturdy, if unadventurous. Their classic catalogue is well-represented by the iconic likes of One, Battery, Master of Puppets and For Whom the Bell Tolls (the title tracks from Ride the Lightning and And Justice For All are slightly more unorthodox inclusions), while Enter Sandman and Nothing Else Matters serve as the obligatory Black Album mega-hits. Fuel and The Memory Remains are the lone representatives of the polarizing (though beloved by me) Load/Reload era, Cyanide splices in a welcome bit of Death Magnetic flavoring, while St. Anger is (thankfully) ignored altogether. The only sour note comes when Trip finds himself caught in the middle of an impending police riot and the opening riff of monolithic epic Wherever I May Roam (one of my three favorite Metallica tracks all-time, if not my outright favorite) effectively underscores the hell about to break loose… only for the song to be abruptly abandoned. Boo.

​(Is it strange that the film is called Through the Never and that particular song is never actually performed? I mean... perhaps?)

The concert itself is really the main attraction… the sort of elaborate, face-melting stage extravaganza that would never be feasible (either in terms of cost or logistics) if you were obliged to service 180 tour dates. A massive electrical chair descends from the rafters during Ride the Lightning as pulses of blue current crackle across the Tesla coils. Pyrotechnic bursts, air raid sirens and simulated fighter plane gunfire strafing the crowd signify the beginning of One. Giant coffins with LCD displays orbit the arena throughout Cyanide, while illuminated graveyard crosses rise from the stage during the second half of Master of Puppets. Most impressively, a life-size statue of Lady Justice is erected by the stage crew in real time during And Justice For All, only to fracture and collapse into chunks of masonry by the end (a stripped down rendition of Hit the Lights after the arena loses power feels like a deliberate reminder that the band doesn’t actually need any of these multimedia bells and whistles to rattle your back molars, however).​

Even at age 50, frontman James Hetfield still cuts a particularly impressive figure on-stage… head bowed, jaw clenched, enveloped in white smoke against one of the aforementioned crosses. One wishes the production might have indulged the heightened fantasy of metal stardom a bit more though… as it does when we see bassist Robert Trujillo warming up, shifting from side to side, his instrument sending reverberations through the arena’s foundation like earthquake aftershocks (if you want to feel old, consider that Trujillo has now been Metallica’s bassist longer than Cliff Burton and Jason Newsted combined). As a concert film, Through the Never is undeniably a full-throttle experience, though the impact is likely blunted when confined to one’s living room. If you like the band’s signature blend of muscular thrash and blues-tinged groove-metal though, the music will still rock you straight down to your blood vessels.