Metallica: This Monster Lives (29 page)

“I know the hardest thing about you leaving at four o’clock is that you don’t really want to leave at four o’clock,” Lars continued. “I know it’s a choice you make, but I don’t think it’s 100 percent. I know you want to stay past four and keep jamming and keep hanging, but because of the place you’re in right now, you can’t, and that’s what makes me hang on, ’cause I know we want the same thing. But in my moments of extreme anger and resentment, I don’t want to hang on—I want to run away. The key question has become: Do we want to make a Metallica record? What is ‘absolute trust,’ and is that necessary to make a Metallica record?
If you’re not having fun, let me let it be known to you that I’m certainly not having a lot of fun, either.”

Bruce’s leg pains were excruciating, which made us worry that his diabetes was out of control. (Courtesy of Bob Richman)

Lars looked worn-out. James stared at him for a second.
“I’m glad you said that. ‘Cause I really, deep down, feel sometimes that it’s just … that there’s some empty … just an ugly feeling inside. I don’t know … How much work are we gonna put into this?
When you say we want the same thing, what is that thing?”

“From my perspective,” Phil said, addressing Lars, “I believe the sadness that you feel is not just about your feelings for James but also about being hurt by his lack of trust in you.”

“Of course it hurts me.”

“Well, you don’t really talk about that,” Phil said. “That’s what I’m saying.”

Lars nodded. “I’ll talk about that.” He looked at James. “It’s really fucking difficult to sit there and have you tell me that you don’t like being in there playing music with me. Yes, it hurts me, okay?
I just don’t want to become a fuckin’ parody. Okay, so if you’re not happy playing music with me …
[Lars makes his hooked-thumb “get the fuck out of here” gesture.]

Phil pointed out that when Lars started to confront this sadness, it was easier for him to retreat and adopt an “ahh, fuck it” attitude. He asked James to try to look beyond the front Lars projected. “This is a twenty-year marriage between the two of you,” Phil said. “There’s great, great love buried underneath a whole bunch of fear, and a whole bunch of stuff that protects yourselves from being hurt. That’s what it’s all about. I guarantee you that.”

After a bit more talk along these lines, Lars suddenly got up. Without saying anything, he stalked off into an adjoining room that had a Ping-Pong table. The others exchanged looks. James got up and followed Lars. Bob Richman followed discreetly behind them. James peeked in. Lars was walking methodically around the Ping-Pong table, muttering things as he did his laps. James came back to the table. Lars followed a few minutes later.

“You all right?” Kirk asked Lars.

“Never been better.”

“See, that’s where I don’t trust you,” James said.

“Good,” Lars replied.

“Well, wait a minute,” Phil said to James. “When he said, ‘Never been better,’ you know that’s not what he meant.”

“Right. And Kirk asked a real question.”

“So what does that have to do with trusting him or not? If you know that’s his defensive maneuver, find out what he really is feeling. You went after him, you went to see him.”

“I wanted to walk around the Ping-Pong table ten times,” Lars said. “So I did that.”

“So what do you think about the fact that he came after you?”

“Who, James?” Lars groaned. “I don’t know.”

“Did you see that James came after you? To see if you were all right, I assume. What did you think of that?”

“Um … I thought it was a nice gesture.”

“Okay, so you got up and left the room to walk around the Ping-Pong table. That’s no different than him walking out and slamming the door, except there wasn’t as much noise….”

“I just wanted a time-out for two seconds, okay? You play ten, you sit down for two games.”

“Okay, but most people—”

“And then you go back and play”

“Yeah,” Phil said, “but if you leave a tennis match all of a sudden, you usually let everyone know what’s going on. So there was some concern for you, I think.”

“And I appreciate that, I really do. Thank you. Now, is it not possible to appreciate that concern without necessarily … just the frustration, like, RRRRRRGGH.” He mumbled something about clearing his head.

“To get to know you better, would you be willing to share the frustration that you were—”

“I’m not sure there’s anything tangible. It’s just like … Fuck! That’s it, I’m not sure there’s much—”

“Was it triggered by something?”

“Beyond, like … I don’t know, just, fuck, time-out …”

“So you went out and got some pressure reduced, and your adversary in this discussion went after you to see if you were okay. I think that’s pretty significant.” Phil was beginning to press Lars harder.

“Well, I have to be honest with you, I wasn’t even sure who it was. I saw a body standing there.” He looked at James. “I realized afterwards that it was you. Thank you for that, okay, thank you, but—”

“I’m not looking for a thank-you,” James said. “I just heard some noises that I don’t normally hear you make, and I went to go see what’s up.”

“That’s kind of funny,” Kirk said, “because there are a lot of noises he makes.”

Lars smiled. “The least of them, drumming.”

“As long as it’s not slamming doors,” James said. “That’s mine.”

“You got the market cornered on that one,” Lars said.

“Then I’ve got to come up with something,” Kirk chimed in.

“That door sounds pretty good, though,” James said. Everyone was laughing now.

“You and my wife should have a contest,” Lars replied.

Bruce, who had been sitting on the couch all this time behind Kirk, pointed out to him that our film now had two door-slams. Kirk shared this with the table. James said he liked the sound he’d obtained with the second one, and Bruce made a joke about punching up the sound of the first one when it came time to edit the film. Things seemed to be lightening up.

Throughout all of this, Bob Richman never stopped filming. He was shooting with a three-hour tape, which he normally doesn’t like to use, because the sixty-minute tapes provide a natural break when it’s time to reload. The three-hour tapes forced him to keep his eye glued to the camera, without a break, in case he missed something. That was a good thing in this case, because there was so much great stuff to capture. He didn’t want to move at all, lest he upset the intense proceedings, so he stayed in the corner, using a wide-angle lens open as far as it could go, giving him a view of the entire room. (That’s why this scene has a sort of fish-eye perspective, which I like because I think it provides a sort of claustrophobic feel that’s appropriate for a scene about people getting uncomfortably close to each other.) Bruce, meanwhile, was glued to the couch, curled up with his face in his hands. Looking at the footage, I thought he adopted that posture to try to avoid being caught on film. Bruce told me much later that he was responding to the pain in his leg, which was particularly intense at that moment.

Even as the tension seemed to be draining from the room, replaced by warm, fuzzy feelings, Lars was noticeably silent.

“What are you thinking, Lars?” Phil asked. “Where are you?”

“Huh?”

“Where are you, man? Share it, please.”

Lars’s reply was barely audible. “… frustrated that it has to be this way”

Phil pressed the point. “What does ‘this way’ mean?”

“The talking?” Bob Rock asked.

“God, the talking,” Lars replied.

Phil kept at him. “The talking or the pain of the talking?”

“You tell me,” Lars said, a little louder now. “You’re the guy”

“No, you tell me. You’re the one feeling it. And don’t mask it.” Phil didn’t raise his voice, employing the calm tone of a therapist.

“I don’t know, I guess the frustration is … it’s like being on a treadmill. It’s been a year and a half and it doesn’t seem like we’re getting far.”

Bob spoke up. “You’re kind of forgetting, though, I mean—”

“Let’s figure out what he means,” Phil said, turning to Lars. “You mean—”

“You want me to say it in the moment,” Lars began. He seemed agitated. “When I said a month ago that I would think about killing myself, it doesn’t mean that I would walk around and think about that all the time. It’s not an absolute. What I’m talking about right now is the frustration that I feel sitting here in hour 2,014 of this. Okay? It’s just frustrating sometimes.”

“I understand that. I appreciate you being this honest and laying it out there. When it seems like this isn’t going anywhere, what’s it feel like to you? Like, angry? Scared? Do you feel like we’re never going—”

“I’ll say it again,” Lars said, louder this time. “It’s frustration.”

Phil wasn’t backing down. “Didn’t you say a while ago that you wanted to understand what James means when he says certain things? Well, I want to understand what you mean by certain things, too, so I can get closer to what you’re feeling. Getting up, walking around the Ping-Pong table ten times, coming back and wanting to say ‘fuck’ and saying you’re frustrated … I’m not any clearer about what that means. Maybe someone else can get it. You know, I’d like to understand.”

“This is what bugs me about the process,” Lars said, exhaling loudly “Every single thought has to be dissected, every emotion. I don’t know. Is it relevant to the big picture?”

“It isn’t necessarily about the process. Maybe it’s about me. Maybe you’re frustrated or angry with me because I’m asking you questions you don’t want to answer. I’m pushing you to a place you don’t want to be.”

“But I don’t know how else to answer it! It’s frustrating to have to go through this sometimes. Most of the time I embrace it, as you know. Most of the time I cherish the challenge. Most of the time I want to share it with everyone I know. Most of the time I want to introduce you. I’m proud of you, I’m proud of what we’re doing. But right now it fucking annoys me, okay?”

“I appreciate you saying that, and I’m glad that you embrace the process. I want to get close to you and know how I annoy you.”

“I didn’t say you annoy me,” Lars said, looking away.

“Whatever, okay, the process annoys you. Is it because there’s something we’re not getting to?”

“No, I guess it’s more the lack of clarity in it. I never feel like I’m getting closer to anything clearer. It’s been a year and a half of fog. There were thirty seconds where it kind of cleared, but it’s been forty-eight hours of just getting thicker.”

“I’m really sorry. Thank you for saying that.”

“Okay.”

“May I give you something right now?”

Lars looked up. “What do you got?”

“I just want to say to you, stay with the fog, try your best to stay in the fog, try your best to trust the fog. It’s your fog. Just … just take it as a gift.” (This was a good example of Phil’s belief that the best way to confront emotional turbulence was to embrace it, no matter how scary.)

“I’m just getting sick of the chill, you know? I’ve been in the fog for a long fucking time.”

“And I think it’s important for us to know what it’s like for you to go through that. For example, I don’t think James has any idea what the fog has meant for you this past year.”

“But, see, the worst part of it is …” Lars looked away again. “I believe, what does it matter to him? I don’t think he gives two fucking shits, so if I say it or not, what’s the difference?”

“Do you think Kirk gives two fucking shits?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I do?”

“Yes.”

“Okay … Bob?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so you’re not sure James knows. I don’t think James has understood, until right now, what this has been like for you.”

“I don’t think he cares any more about Kirk, okay? I don’t think he really—”

“He just told us he’s having a hard time caring. What do you make of him following you around the corner? I want to know what you think that meant.”

“I don’t know.” Lars paused. “That was a … a nice moment.”

“Okay, so he knows how to care in that situation, anyway. He was doing something.”

“Sure.”

“The past is fucked, the present is totally confusing, and the future is uncertain, and I think there’s a tendency—now hear me out—there’s a tendency when you get into this space for you to gravitate towards being alone, isolated.”

“Absolutely.”

“And I feel very sad about that, and I don’t want you to do things that will hurt you during this time. I want us to be able to reach out to you, and I don’t want you to push us away when we do.”

“But it’s like, sometimes, just give me a little fucking space.”

“It’s like you said to me this morning when I hugged you, you said, ‘I don’t want any love right now,’ and I understand that, ’cause it’s too scary. You can’t trust it.”

“So be it,” Lars said. “It’s okay that it’s too scary”

“It’s okay that you’re strong enough to handle it by yourself, but—”

“No, I didn’t say that! Don’t fuckin’ … you know …”

“
I’m
saying that.”

“I’m with this fucking process as much as or more than anyone else, okay?”