Lords Of Chaos Review: More Black Than Metal

4 1/2 Film

I have a confession to make: I’m not exactly the world’s foremost authority on 90s Norwegian Black Metal. That’s a pretty specific sub-genre of music, and to be quite honest, wasn’t aware such a sub-genre existed. Maybe that makes me a “poser,” but I’d also like to think that it meant I’d be free of bias going into Lords Of Chaos; Jonas Åkerlund’s biopic of Mayhem - Black Metal’s most infamous band - based on Michael Moynihan’s novel of the same name. I should take this time to mention that Akerlund himself was the drummer for the black metal band Bathory back in the 80s. I assume that’s why he felt this film needed to be made.

Watching the trailer for the film, and being completely ignorant of this part of rock history, I automatically assumed it was a mockumentary about a fictional band. Especially since the trailer makes it a point to say “Based on truth and lies.” It brings me no joy to report Mayhem is very much a real band, and the things that occurred in this film really did happen.

The film doesn’t provide much in the way of actual black metal music, however. Given the events that take place throughout the course of the band’s history, it’s easy to understand why that is. It’s far from your standard, formulaic biopic. Instead, the film focuses on the progressively sinister acts of hatred, violence, and legitimate terror, at the hands of those in the “black circle“ (Mayhem band members and their closest friends).

The film paints a dark portrait of how far people are willing to go to craft and maintain an image. If you market yourself as Satan-worshipping degenerates looking to take a match to tradition, religion, and societal norms at large; there’s only so far a down-tuned guitar and guttural screaming can take you. At a certain point, you’re gonna be forced to prove to yourself, your friends, and the fans you’ve cultivated, just how “black” you really are. And sometimes that means taking an actual match to tradition, religion, and societal norms at large. Hence the church burnings that would largely define the band’s career and shine a light on the black metal genre as a whole.

Being authentic and “keeping it real,” plagues plenty of genres, namely rock and hip hop, where your image often accounts for more than your actual musical talent. But in the case of black metal, that pressure to be real is taken to new extremes. No one wants to be labeled a “poser,” or a “sellout;” two terms which are sometimes used interchangeably. Your image is your livelihood. Once you’ve been exposed, you’re done.

We see this play out in the form of a power struggle and a battle of oneupmanship between the story’s two main characters. Mayhem guitarist Øystein ‘Euronymous’ Aarseth (Rory Culkin), and Kristian ‘Varg’ Vikernes (Emory Cohen); the latter of whom is shown having so much sex throughout the film it was almost distracting. Seriously; I think it’s safe to assume any member of a popular local band isn’t gonna be short on sexual opportunities, but Åkerlund really wanted to drive home the point that Varg was keeping busy when he wasn’t committing arson in the name of a perverted ideology and a personal insecurity of being seen as phony.

The film contains some generic elements most films that touch on Satanism often have. The upside-down crosses, the dead animals, the rants about how “fucked up” society is; and they’re often presented in a humorous way. Just a bunch of teens trying too hard to fit in and look edgy. There’s also a handful of times where we get an outsider’s perspective on the actions of these individuals, and it’s shown through a cringe-worthy, pathetic lens. The people in the black circle think they’re Satan’s best recruiters, but to outsiders, they’re nothing more than socially awkward, mentally unstable try-hards.

That humor gets lost pretty quickly when churches start getting burned down, though, and the graphic violence gets kicked up a few notches. There’s a scene relatively early on in the film where a character commits suicide, and it’s by far the most graphic scene of such an act I’ve ever seen on screen. It felt painfully and viscerally real; but it’s not so much the suicide itself that gives you chills, but how the band subsequently handles said suicide that’s truly terrifying. It’s moments like that where you remember these things actually happened, and this is how the people involved actually responded.

The film doesn’t focus on the creative differences that usually lead to friction within a band. The battle is not for the soul of the band; it’s for the soul of a movement. It’s for the soul of an angsty, hateful, nihilistic generation of young people who use the sounds of black metal as both a soundtrack to their lives, and impressionable rocket fuel that helps keep them orbiting around the same black hole.

Violence, hate, sex, satanism, and drugs, fuel a specific subset of black metal culture, and that specific subset of black metal culture fuels violence, hate, sex, satanism and drugs. It’s a feedback loop with no discernible origin or leader. Sometimes the puppet master is the puppet.

The film serves as an eerie look at a cross section where nihilism and satanism meet, on a road traveled by confused, disaffected youth, looking to fit in and be liked, and less about the creation of black metal music itself. It’s all about the image. It’s all about being authentic, no matter the cost.

If you’re not squeamish, and you have both an affinity for indie films, and a morbid curiosity, it’s worth checking out Lords Of Chaos.

Just keep in mind, when it comes to the topic of “black metal,” the second word of that phrase is in short supply.