Breaking a Monster

Director: Luke Meyer

It's not often we see a documentary about an ambitious band on the threshold of success. What is more unusual is seeing a documentary about a band on the verge of success that is made up of middle-school kids. And still more unusual is a film about a metal band made up of adolescent, African-Americans. In director Luke Meyer's Breaking a Monster, we see the Brooklyn-based, heavy-metal band Unlocking the Truth as they make the transition from busking on city sidewalks to playing before sizeable audiences on the festival circuit. How this amazing transition comes about is the subject of Meyer's absorbing film, which not only details the grim realities of the music business but also the disillusionment the industry breeds in aspiring musicians.

In the early part of the film we see the barely pubescent members of the band in video footage as they perform on a sidewalk for small change. When the viewer becomes accustomed to the sight of three young, black kids playing heavy metal, not only does one quickly warm to the band's very conspicuous talents, but their ability to rock.

As guitarist Malcolm Brickhouse, bassist Alec Atkins and drummer Jarad Dawkins begin to draw media attention, they band also attracts one-time Welcome Back Kotter co-creator Alan Sacks; who was also the driving force behind the careers of Demi Lovato and The Jonas Brothers.

From Meyer's superb fly-on-the-wall footage, it becomes obvious Sacks means to maximize the band's exposure and implement an aggressive marketing campaign. While the band-member's parents show their eager support, the band finds themselves suddenly thrust into the music industry image-making machine. In earlier footage of the band, a list of band goals is seen scribbled on a sheet of paper, which reflect the band's lofty ambitions. One entry on their list reads "meet Metallica."

But the band finds the demands of a music career often runs contrary to their adolescent interests, which include skateboarding, hanging out with friends and in the case of Dawkins, a serious girlfriend.

It is particularly painful to watch the band sitting at a table with Sacks and a team of image consultants, who advise the band on all matters related to promotion. Though it's axiomatic to say that what might seems like sensible promotion for pop artists like The Jonas Brothers and Demi Lovato is all wrong for a band who idolizes Metallica and Slipknot. What emerges from the meetings is Sacks and his team's appalling obliviousness to heavy metal culture. Sacks pushes likeability, which the band naturally rebels against. No detail related to promotion is overlooked, as the team helps the band choose t-shirt designs.

The band suddenly finds itself a sensation on Youtube, which attracts the attention of their heroes; Metallica, who invite Unlocking the Truth to back them at a concert in Montreal. Intense media coverage follows; with appearances on Stephen Colbert, The Tonight Show and various network news programs. We also see the band in T.V. commercials while major festivals like Coachella, Bonnaroo and South by Southwest beckon.

But it isn't long before the band begins to resist Sacks' direction and question his motives. Visible signs of discord and unhappiness become manifest. Brickhouse, the leader, finds himself at odds with Sacks on issues related to the band's direction and decision-making. Though we hear the band's stirring song Monster, the band is hampered by a lack of material to make themselves more intriguing. The band ultimately releases an EP but in spite of some promising moments, the band's unhappiness remains. Meyer's choice to end the film with the making of the band's first video is a sound choice, for the dour expression on Brickhouse's face as the filming commences is the most eloquent expression of disillusionment I've seen on film in some time.

Breaking a Monster is a very apt title for Meyer's film. He effectively documents the corrosive forces of conformity and mass consumption involved in packaging bands like Unlocking the Truth and the exploitation of callow artists who are too young to fully understand how the machine works. But as we see, Brickhouse, Atkins and Dawkins are no fools. Atkins himself shows his precocious perspective of stardom when he comments on the precariousness of band's future. To see the band-members juggle adolescence and rock stardom with varying degrees of success--lifestyles most young musicians are ill-prepared to cope with--is part of the film's dramatic power. A contract offer from Sony for 1.8 million complicates an already frustrating path to success. We never learn who handles the band's money and how much they've earned--yet another issue with which to leave the viewer feeling anxious.

Meyer's film is very timely. To be able to catch a band in the critical phase between obscurity and fame is rare. Meyer makes the most of the opportunity. He poignantly captures fame's broad impact on family, friends and even industry professionals.

The film leaves us with nagging questions about the band's chances of sustained success. I suppose we'll know soon enough. If they fail, it won't be for lack of talent or hard work. But as Atkins and the band realize, nothing is assured. It is just that kind of awareness and adult-level realism that will keep the band from the abyss should they fail. Let's hope they don't.