Some Kind of Monster might have better been titled Some Kind of Cookie Monster, or even Spinal Pap. Although the film is moderately successful as a documentary, I find it hard to believe that James and the gang allowed this thing to be released. You have to admire them their willingness to show the world this warts and all peak behind the black curtain, but I can't help but think that any hard-core fan of the band and their speed-metal legacy, will come away thinking that these guys are nothing but a trio of wusses.

Some Kind of Monster offers up precious little music-making and spends the majority of it's running time watching the band sit around and bitch about each other, and try to arrive at a happy place where they can all feel warm and fuzzy. The film starts by introducing us to the twosome (Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky) responsible for the documentary we are about to witness as well as the group psychoanalyst/babysitter/conflict mediator who they pay obscene amounts of money in order that they might all get along well enough to make their latest record "St. Anger." The therapist in question is named Phil Towle and I swear he's like a character straight out of Spinal Tap.

The band has decided to record St. Anger in the Spartan environs or San Francisco's abandoned army barracks, "The Presidio," and it isn't long before Front-man James Hetfield throws a tantrum and disappears for a YEAR. During this year we sort of hang-out with the rest of the band and Mr. Towle, and listen to them all vent their frustration. As it turns out Lars Ulrich and Kirk Hammett aren't the most fascinating subjects for a documentary and this portion of the film would have been a complete waste of celluloid had it not been for the introduction of Ulich's father Torben. Torben sounded and looked just like a character straight out of Lord of the Rings, and listening to him wax philosophical about what a bunch of twerps that Metallica is comprised of is a hoot.

Unfortunately his screen-time is limited and about the only other interesting sequence from this part of the film is when Dave Mustaine sits in on one of their whining sessions. Mustaine, was an original member of Metallica whom, after being kicked out of the band, went on to form Megadeth. It was just sad to watch him sit on the couch and blink-away the tears as he discusses the living hell his life has been because of the monstrous grudge he still harbors against Hetfield. At this point, one could only marvel at what pansies these guys are that have been cranking out some of the most revered head-banging metal of all time. Goodness, how do they ever make it on stage without their blankies?

During his year-long hiatus Hetfield spent much of his time in rehab, and when he finally returns to the fold it is under some of the most non-rock and roll-like terms one might imagine in a nightmare. Though the boys were happy to have their leader back and ostensibly ready to get cracking on St. Anger, as it turns out, Hetfield is only willing to work between noon and four. The band would literally be in the midst of some truly refreshing metal jamming and four o clock would roll around and Hetfield would take his ball and go home. Dr. Phil really had his hands full between the shell-shocked Hetfield and the increasingly pissed-off Ulrich.

Also disheartening for fans of these metal gods, was watching their new group-therapy approach to writing the lyrics for St. Anger. It was more like St. Anger Management as the four musicians (including erstwhile studio bassist and producer Bob Rock) sat around with their notebooks and fashioned the lyrics by committee. Metallica has always been a band respected for their visceral vision, mostly supplied by the gritty wordplay of Hetfield. To see this myth debunked, was among the most discouraging things the film presented.

Alas, the final act of Some Kind of Monster finds Metallica more or less patched-up and working as a team, obviously inspired by the actual rock and roll presence of their new bass-player Rob Trujillo (formerly of Ozzy's band). It really seemed to take this guys grateful enthusiasm to remind the others that they are universally beloved badasses and ought to start acting like it again. Back in charge of themselves and feeling the power of their metal muse the boys almost muster up the courage to fire Dr. Phil, but alas they more or less puss-out when they confront the guy and only manage to cut back his hours.

As a documentary Some Kind of Monster succeeds in getting behind the scenes of Metallica, and though overly long and windy, it's nonetheless fascinating to witness the psychological dynamics behind the beast - however disenchanting. I guess the real question is whether or not all this revelation was a good thing or not. In terms of furthering the spirit of classic heavy metal, Some Kind of Monster is about the equivalent of watching Ozzy Osbourne putz around the house,in his jammies, searching for the TV remote and complaining about all the dog poop.