Jonas Akerlund
Lords of Chaos

Despite "Lords of Chaos" ultimately proving to be quite a mediocre film product, its viewing awakened in me conflicting sensations, leading me to reflections on facts, characters, and themes I thought were now relegated to the chest of indifference. Today I want to speak to you with an open heart, and if it's true that there will be many spoilers, it's equally true that it will be quite unintelligible to you if you haven't seen the film or at least don't know Mayhem and the associated events.

Let's start from the assumption that there is a fundamental problem in this endeavor: "Lords of Chaos" is an ambiguous work. On one hand, it chooses an undeniably niche theme, "unveiling to the world" a story known only to a small fringe of enthusiasts. On the other hand, it winks at the larger audience, hoping that a real event may attract more than one curious onlooker. Perhaps the production was aware of this and tried to play by addition, but the result disappointed both fronts.

The average viewer, on one hand, will find this story hardly interesting, not knowing the music of the bands involved, unable to grasp all the references well-known to the metal audience. The metalheads, on their part, will divide into two factions: those who disdain Norwegian black metal and who will either ignore the film or ferociously despise it, finding in it the confirmations they were looking for, that the Inner Circle was a bunch of misguided kids with no real talent. And those who love black metal and who, on the contrary, will feel betrayed by the distortions and exaggerations in the events' portrayal, by the superficiality with which the characters are sketched, by the little emphasis given to the music. Adding to the insult, a few inappropriately placed dark-comedy tones (including the unfortunate idea of Euronymous's voiceover that, too winking and familiar, will occasionally step in to complete the narration).

Director Jonas Akerlund, with his background as a music video director (just mention Prodigy, Metallica, Madonna, and Lady Gaga among his prestigious clients), shows his vision limitations, exhibiting a gaze suspended between ironic detachment and unnecessary scenic ideas (such as the dream sequences starring Dead). Let's be clear: not everything is to be thrown away. Among the film's merits, certainly the effort to aesthetically adhere to those shots that, in the absence of video documents, made us know Euronymous and all the other protagonists of the narrated events. It's also commendable that at least they didn't want to overdo it with video clip-esque virtuosity and overly tight editing: the risk was indeed to epicize the actions of characters that do not deserve any sort of celebration for what they did outside of music.

I don't like to weigh in on directorial choices, but if I may express a personal opinion, I would have preferred a style more adherent to those "Nordic directing" canons that have elsewhere expressed themselves with incomparable incisiveness (without bothering Danish Lars Von Trier and Thomas Vinterberg, we could look even just to Swedish Tomas Alfredson). "Control", the film about Ian Curtis and Joy Division, also crafted by a music video director (Anton Corbijn, also a photographer), used an evocative black and white to tell a similarly tragic artistic parabola with sobriety and discretion. This could have been a useful precedent, should one choose the auteur path. Alternatively, one could aim directly at a product for mass consumption, avoiding many subtleties and giving up from the start on telling the "true story", constructing a wholly fictional work inspired by it (consider the blockbuster "Rock Star" which took, with much liberty, part of the Judas Priest story).

The matter is further complicated by the fact that the real story is so absurd that the screenwriter felt the need to smooth certain edges, normalize senseless gestures and equally senseless thought processes to make the representation credible and logical to the uninitiated eye. This is why they even invented a little girlfriend for Euronymous (an aspect we will revisit): not to spice up a story that needed no spice, but to try to fit into an intelligible frame facts that are truly difficult to explain unless you are deeply into the matter.

The crucial point, however, is that no one will ever know what really happened and this impossibility is openly expressed in the emblematic phrase placed at the film's beginning: "Based on truth and lies", probably an indispensable device to preempt eventual criticisms at obviously necessary fictional turns for narrative requirements. The book’s contents from which the film takes its title might have offered a reconstruction in the form of an inquiry, but it does not mean that such reconstruction is truthful. Actually, it is hardly likely to be so, considered that the text's subtitle, "The Bloody Rise of the Satanic Metal Underground", suggests a “distorted” view of the phenomenon. Those directly involved in the events, after all, have not blessed the endeavor: understandable reaction given it would be difficult for anyone to recognize themselves in a product that intrudes so indiscreetly into the private sphere.

Nor does it help that the sociological background is as impenetrable as it is Scandinavian, further accentuated by an English-speaking cast (another unfortunate choice). Some have complained about the poverty and banality of the dialogues, but what was to be expected from teenagers who spent their days amidst boredom and heavy metal? Some have even found it implausible that Euronymous kept repeating "I invented the real Norwegian black metal": well, dear novices, it really was so, and the tagline "True Norwegian Black Metal" adorned more than one LP back cover released at the time.

That Akerlund was the first insignificant drummer of Bathory matters relatively, but at least certifies that Our man is not entirely alien to the world of extreme metal, that he is acquainted with its foundational characteristics and various nuances. This is confirmed by a soundtrack featuring names of the caliber of Celtic Frost, Sodom, Sarcofafo, Tormentor, Bathory, Cathedral, Carcass and many others, tasked with recreating the "metallic" moods of the period (at least this time, thank heavens, we were spared Black Sabbath in the guise of a satanic group!). Plus, the fact that, despite working as a director, Akerlund has continued to be involved in the music industry, helped him in completing the setlist with fitting songs, like the various picked from the repertoire of Sigur Ros: a choice I would deem sensible also because the Icelanders, while playing an entirely different genre, evoke sensations not entirely foreign to the "Nordic" black metal universe. Tangerine Dream and Myrkur reinforce this impression, whereas the presence of Dead Can Dance was obligatory, as they were listened to by Vikernes and Blackthorn in the car after committing the murder.

Maybe Akerlund framed the sociological phenomenon, but certainly not the artistic one. He sees the Euronymous circle as a branch of kids lacking in art and substance, bored petit bourgeois supported economically by their parents and having fun drinking and playing silly pranks on families (a derisive vision that emerges in some gags meant to be funny and confirmed by the choice of a Jewish actor, Emory Cohen, to portray the anti-Semite Vikernes). Rightly so, Satanism plays a completely marginal role, paradoxically representing the only genuine (facade) transgressive element of these wayward youths (only vaguely hinting at Vikernes' more elaborate anti-Christianity, ideologically aimed at preserving his land's traditions, allegedly violated by "Christian colonialism").

The music of Mayhem, partly due to denied rights, is reduced to the bone, covered by the squeals and bellows of young ugly pimply kids awkwardly headbanging. It's a pity that the stylistic, conceptual, and attitudinal innovations introduced by Euronymous, Dead, and Vikernes have been completely ignored, leaving the viewer in the dark about an important revolution that occurred within the microcosm of early 90s extreme metal.

Indeed, not all aspects of this multifaceted and meaning-laden story, which intertwines and contradicts, could be adequately highlighted. Every work involves a reduction in the complexity of reality. A screenplay, in a structural sense, is a synthesis operation, a "series of dots" arranged on a white page. It is up to the viewer, with their sensitivity and cultural baggage, to connect these dots and construct a meaningful image. Personally speaking, there are interesting insights in this film that can help better outline the overall picture of a story we have come to know through music, words, interviews, photographs, and which today finds realization in a cinematic work.

Dead, of the entire carousel of bizarre characters, is the only one who retains a certain dignity. I don't agree with the choice of actor (Jack Kilmer, the son of Val Kilmer), as it makes him seem little more than a child; however, the traits chosen to describe him are significant. Dead emerges from the beginning as a boy "different" from the others, between mental disorders, loneliness, and real depression, but in all this, he will never appear pathetic. This character exudes a strong charisma, from the moment his voice precedes him on the tape that irreversibly strikes Euronymous and the rest of the band. Despite the killed cats, the clothes buried to "smell like death," and the inhalations of animal carcasses, the figure that emerges is moving. Like when he boldly shouts: "We are the Lords of Chaos!", admiring his face-painting in the mirror and charging up alongside the more tense Euronymous before a concert. Or when those strange forays into the woods are depicted, always with his friend Euronymous, hunting for cats or... something else... (moments I judged, filmically speaking, very suggestive). To reach the distressing suicide sequence, described in all its rawness. He seeks death in every action, he who is to be considered the true initiator of modern black metal philosophy (elitism, nihilism, self-mutilation – see the bloody self-flagellation scenes during the concert): purity, art for art's sake, we might add, compared to a more cunning Euronymous driven by "entrepreneurial" urges (but we will also see this aspect).

Varg Vikernes was probably the most difficult character to portray, and admittedly it got off to a rough start with the slightly chubby and not very resembling figure of Emory Cohen. But it must be admitted that the character's development has a certain plausibility. From beginnings marked by shyness (if not sociopathy) where Our man, a fan of Mayhem, is mocked for his first name (Kristian) and for the Scorpions patch on his jacket, to the progressive affirmation of an increasingly strong identity leaning towards extreme actions. From admirer of Euronymous to his rival, eventually aspiring to usurp his throne as the scene's leader. Perhaps they were too kind in conferring upon him an intellectual aura by associating him with chess (wasn't he a fan of role-playing games?) and even elevating him to the status of a great seducer (with girls presenting themselves at Helvete asking for him, even snubbing Euronymous). Historical inaccuracies serve the function, in a short time, of representing a charisma in affirmation/expansion that unfortunately could not be described through the more suitable channel, that of Burzum's music (remembering that Vikernes had also not allowed rights for the use of his music). The "overtaking" occurs in the film's most improbable scene, where Euronymous's future girlfriend begins to strip at Vikernes's request in the Helvete basement, under a shocked and unprepared Euroymous' watchful eye, who began to reveal his status as a "pulp leader".

Which is not entirely true. Euronymous was the true mastermind of that world, showing not only undeniable artistic talent but also entrepreneurial ambitions. He led Mayhem, gathered a true scene around him, opened the Helvete record store, and founded the Deathlike Silence label, whereas the other involved characters played only a supportive role, akin to brainless individuals incapable of achieving anything truly constructive (just think of the dopey figure of Faust glued day and night in front of a TV watching splatter films). Sure, we could add that all those "human cases" did not fall on his lap by chance, but he sought them out like those who, driven by insecurities, need to surround themselves with mediocrity or weaker personalities. However, note that he was not a saint and considering the friend's Dead's suicide as a means to promote his own band was certainly not a conventional reaction.

However, in the face of the escalation of events (from the churches burned by Vikernes to the homosexual's murder by Faust), he will increasingly feel alone and out of place. In all this, the perpetually frightened eyes of Rory Culkin (impossible not to think of the scenes from "Home Alone," where his brother was the protagonist) can serve a descriptive function regarding his inner turmoil. Especially in the film's second half, precisely when the game begins to slip out of his hands (much like what happened to Mickey Mouse in "Fantasia"), his character gains depth, slipping out of the rigid caricature contours, acquiring more human dimensions. The many other "historical inaccuracies", like the photo shoot (the famous photo with tunic and hood ending up in the booklet of "De Mysteriis dom Sathanas") concluding with a passionate kiss, can be forgiven. This film's final glimpse takes on a path of redemption from "Evil", from excesses, from addiction to death and violence (a journey symbolized by accepting the relationship with his new girlfriend) that will reach its peak with the haircut, a symbol of normalization interrupted that same evening with his murder.

And here we are at the fateful night. The direction opts for an unbearably long sequence: stab after stab (up to the decisive one in the skull, with the victim already lying helpless on the floor), brutally depicting the ruthless execution by Vikernes. The reconstruction seems to favor the Count, with a powerless and whimpering Euronymous, unable to react to the violence poured onto him, perhaps precisely because, at least mentally, already disconnected from that horrible world of perversion. These interminable minutes of fleeing in the apartment and down the condominium stairs, ignored by the neighbors, pursued by an unrelenting Vikernes, constitute the film's emotional climax. Here, the camera becomes indiscreet, penetrating the core of truly private events we will never fully know, with the screenwriter forced to rely on imagination (see the nonsensical idea of the killer preparing a cup of chocolate, or something along those lines, in the victim's kitchen). Here, the violence of indiscretion becomes tangible, the lack of decency, the idea that perhaps the entire endeavor should never have existed, at least not yet.

Honestly, it is sad to see this character, undeniably the engine and center of all events, extinguished; the one whom, as spectators, we had met at the film's start, strumming the guitar in his room and scaring his younger sister with ugly noises. And just the image of the little sister by the window, sad for the death of that strange brother, constitutes the closure of the circle: perhaps a blatant emotional blackmail by the director, but also an important lever in stirring the feelings of anyone who realized that, beyond all the spectacularity and absurdity of the matter, were ultimately human beings.