On Sunday we watched Metallica: Some Kind Of Monster, a documentary that we missed at last year’s Hot Docs. After watching it, I have confirmed something I already suspected: I hate Lars Ulrich. I never liked his drumming, he makes porn star face when he plays and he’s been among the most whiny millionaire musicians protesting filesharing. And, after watching this, I think he’s a snivelling little camera whore. The way he preened and showed off for the camera, the way he got in everyone’s face…argh. I hate him.

Not that Hetfield’s a joy. He’s a guy with monumental issues, as evidenced by his sudden year long rehab, and he’s a full-on control freak, but he really looked like a guy trying to fight his demons…which can’t be easy when one of them’s in his face, screaming his little spandex pants off.

The two best parts of the movie, by far:

• When Dave Mustaine let out 20 years of frustration and envy and abandonment on Ulrich all at once. Not blaming him, just letting him feel a tiny bit of what it was like to be the guy who got kicked out of Metallica just before they hit it big. What would’ve been sublime is if Hetfield had been there.
• When Hetfield, post-rehab, was complaining about how after he’d leave for the day, when he came back all these decisions had been made without him and he felt powerless. Kirk Hammett, in a rare speaking appearance, said “That’s what it’s been like for me for 16 fucking years, man!”. Hetfield looked a bit stunned.

Really, truth be told, Hammett was the only one I felt bad for. Well, maybe Bob Rock too, but mostly Hammett, despite the fact that he too annoys me.

Shit. I think I’m giving the impression that I didn’t like the movie, and that’s not my intention at all. It’s a great bit of drama, and shows that millionaire rock stars are stupid too.