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Until The Light Takes Us: Film review

26/08/09 || Khlysty

Released: 2008
Website: www.blackmetalmovie.com

As of late, there’s been a literal slew of documentaries concerning metal. Some of them are good, some not so good. But none other than “Until The Light Takes Us” has the power, the courage and the ethos to REALLY talk about Norwegian Black Metal. In terms of integrity, integrality and revelatory nature, this film, made by two Americans, Audrey Ewell and Aaron Aites, sets the watermark, not only for future films concerning heavy music, but, in my humble opinion, for every future rockumentary.

The film utilizes two basic –and towering in the black metal scene- figures to tell the story: Fenriz of Darkthrone and Varg “Count Grishnakh” Vikernes of Burzum are the stars of the film and this bipolarity makes for a very intriguing clash of views, ideas and explanations of the “whys”, the “hows” and the “whens” of one of the most virulent and violent periods in extreme music. Fenriz is the world-weary survivor of the scene; he who weathered the storms –the murders, the church-burnings and the general mayhem- and is still here to grudgingly support his ideals about what black metal was supposed to be, even when he acknowledges that they’re actually lost causes.

On the other hand, Varg –in a series of exclusive interviews, while still incarcerated- is the eloquent political figure of the genre; it’s he –as he tells- who instigated the whole thing, giving it an ideology beyond musical rebellion and beyond reactionary action against a status quo in a country were everything seems idyllic. He supports his views passionately, but these views are always darkened by the fact of his murdering Euronymous. His clipped, almost embarrassed account of the circumstances of the killing of one of his former friends is very telling and, although at the end there’s no remorse, it’s obvious that he understands the consequences of his actions, not only for him but for the genre as a whole.

One of the important aspects of the film is how the two film-makers take a non-intrusive stance against their subjects. The people are left to speak freely about the things that gave birth to black metal (how a small part of the disenfranchised youth of Norway rebelled against the musical trends of the time, but also against the ruling culture of the late ‘80s – early ‘90s), about the permutations of the this angry child of heavy metal (the violence, the total disregard of high fidelity recording procedures, the ugly makeup, the points of gathering, the main figures) and about how the control slowly but inexorably got lost (the first murders, the arsons of historic churches, the suicide of “Dead”) and drove the whole genre down into a vortex of confusion and mindless violence.

There are lots of poignant moments in the film: the way Fenriz bemusedly walks through a gallery where an artist displays pieces inspired by black metal (the only point when he’s not border-ironic is when he soberly scrutinizes photos of the old black metal heroes and his friends) is very telling of his thoughts about the whole thing; his resignation when he admits that black metal became a trend, while the original idea was for something more internalized and more hermetic; the juxtaposition of Varg’s eloquent arguments with photos of his different phases in prison (a quasi-Nazi Youth uniformed guy, a skinhead, a modern Viking); his uneasy laughter when asking “So, how do you like prison?”; Fenriz’s introspective comments after viewing parts of Varg’s interview; the polite, non-committal way the two men speak of each other and the sense of embarrassment this conveys to the viewer (these guys were friends and partners in rebellion; and then things changed and something vital got lost…).

But, the film’s main power lies in the contrasting images it hits the audience with. Fenriz and Varg talk in almost reverent tones about Dead’s suicide and then Hellhammer of Mayhem describes in deadpan how Euronymous took pictures of the body before calling the police. Varg explains the church burnings in a political-philosophical way and then Abbath and Demonaz of Immortal, as bluntly as it gets, call the whole thing a badly-organized affair. Hellhammer, again, expresses “respect” for Faust’s of Emperor killing a homosexual man in Lillehammer, or his matter-of-fact account of the infighting between Euronymous and Varg that led to the fatal night. Or, most importantly, Fenriz talking about black metal’s commercialization acceptance by the mainstream and then Frost of Satyricon taking part in a performance, designed by the same artist with the “black metal” paintings that so bemused Fenriz. To be fair, Frost seems to hold high the banner of black metal, but he seems less convincing, after the introspective remarks made by Fenriz, or Varg’s pathos.

Look, I could go on and on, talking about the details of the film, the moods, the documentation… But I won’t do it. Instead, I’ll just tell you one more thing and I’m gone: even if one doesn’t like black metal, one would be riveted by the power of the film. This is one of the best things cinema has to offer, not only to fans of metal, but to anyone with any interest about documentaries and about what the fuck happened in Norway during the late ‘80s – early 90s. Great film and then some…

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