Ragnar Bragason’s Metalhead unabashedly deals with the topic of death and despair, and since it is a film that revolves around music, the score and the soundtrack both support the story. The score drones. It ebbs, flows, and eventually gives way to a hope that is absent in the beginning of the film. Classic rock anthems and black metal songs comprise the soundtrack in the same way that they scored the life of a boy now dead. Hera’s brother loved this music, but for Hera, the protagonist, these songs become something much more than simple rock tunes.
This music supplies the bones to Hera’s lament. If Job were alive today, this is the kind of music he would have listened to. Hera dons puts on sackcloth and ashes sonically and refuses to take them off, much to the community’s frustration. Hera’s parents pretend that everything is ok while they are dying a thousand deaths every day internally. Unlike her parents, Hera is not as adept at pretending.
The film visually explores a variety of themes, including the juxtaposition of light and dark, warm and cold, vibrant color and washed out blackness. Also, Jesus is depicted in a variety of ways throughout the film. First, we see him as the triumphant Lord returning on the clouds with banner raised high in victory. While this image is appropriate when placed in it’s larger biblical context, it certainly does not comfort a grieving Hera during the funeral of her beloved brother. This is not the Christ who suffers with the hurting, but the Lord who is presented to all who mourn so that they may have faith and cheer up. Hera will have none of that. Later we see a small crucifix hanging over Hera’s parents’ bed. The viewer can barely make out this trinket, just as it is impossible to detect an inking of hope or joy within a home which functions as an emotional icebox.
The third presentation of Christ comes through Janus, the new priest who comes to call on the family and asks to meet with Hera. Hera grieves that no one understands the hard truths that are spoken by the black metal sages and rock gods. Janus then shows her a tattoo that opens her eyes to the fact that he is no stranger to the metal militia and the songs they pen. But rather than just express solidarity with Hera, he goes on to present a side of Jesus that is often neglected, as much in suburbia as it is in Hera’s hometown in Iceland. The priest tells her all about the passion of Jesus, the Lord who willingly subjected himself to loneliness, despair and even death. This is the Christ for whom Job pined when he said, “I know that my redeemer lives!” (Job 19:25). This is the Christ who saves us through suffering with us and for us. And this Christ cannot be presented simply through a painting or crucifix; he is the Christ who can only be shared from one soul to another.
While the priest dares to listen to and therefore suffer with Hera, he is only the precursor to the community making good on an obligation that they shirked for far too long. Christians are called to see through the veneer of rebellion and even hate, and to see and suffer with the grieving child underneath the surface. The priest challenges Hera to refrain from judging others by appearances, what the community has done to her for most of her life. While Hera dons her brother’s clothing and listens to his music in an attempt to hold on to her beloved brother, it becomes much more than this. Hera rightly learns that many of these bands are articulating a despair that is real. While there is plenty of room in the bible for honest and gut wrenching lament, one would be hard pressed to hear these passages or psalms read out loud in many churches. Our preoccupation with comfort and victory have led us to ignore whole books of the bible that focus on the reality and inevitability of death and despair. Hera lives within a community that has been consistently catechized by the belief in the victorious savior, but not the suffering servant.
As Christians, we are living in light of Easter. But, we must remember that there is no resurrection and ascension without the despair and death of Christ. When we functionally attempt to circumvent the soul crushing grief of others, we become a curse to our neighbor by denying the savior we profess to adore. In his earthly ministry, Jesus proved that he was able and willing to see well beyond the surface. Metalhead encourages us to reflect on how we process grief, our own and that of the other. While Jesus is risen, this does not diminish the reality of sin and suffering. Can we accept this reality and learn to suffer alongside those who so desperately need care and compassion? They cry out, “Couldn’t you help me so that I may believe? Couldn’t you show me so that I may be saved?” (“Gold Teeth on a Bum” from the album Option Paralysis by Dillenger Escape Plan)
Metalhead becomes available VOD on April 3. You might also find these reviews of Metalhead helpful:
Roslyn Hernandez’s original review of Metalhead for Reel Spirituality
Sister Rose at the Movies