Because I wasn’t born in time and be of the right age to witness Metal Messiah back in 1977, whether in theatres, if it ever reached Victoria’s Roxy or Vic Theatre, or later on VHS, discovering it now feels surreal. With it’s recent 4k remaster, some scenes only look that much more cosmic when considering the how well it’s been colour balanced. Although some video artifacts remain, this movie would not be what it is, a product of the times. Even today, I wasn’t sure what to expect from a story so deeply rooted in an era still firmly rooted in The Cold War.
Today, it’s a cult film that embodies the raw spirit of Toronto’s early punk movement. And when looking back at my own discovery of the stylings of Iggy Pop and Ziggy Stardust, I’m sure either would’ve appreciated what writer-director Tibor Takács (The Gate, Sabrina the Teenage Witch) accomplished here. What he made feels like hard-boiled detective fiction colliding with This Is Spinal Tap, only with a far more philosophical edge.
There’s a PI named Philip Chandler (Richard Ward Allen) wandering the streets and rock clubs of Toronto as though he’s searching for someone. That individual is The Messiah (David Jensen of the band Kickback), an alien who believes humanity must be saved from this strange phenomenon known as heavy metal, hence the film’s title. Where the story goes from there requires paying attention. After landing on Earth with the goal of saving humanity from consumerism, greed and celebrity culture, the irony is that he becomes part of the very machine he’s trying to dismantle. Rather than turning people away from its influence, they flock to him as though he is a god, making this movie’s title all the more fitting.
That irony also made me think about Anne Rice’s The Queen of the Damned (1988). Although the stories ultimately head in different directions, they share some fascinating similarities. In Rice’s novel, Lestat de Lioncourt chooses to become a rock star. He embraces the music and writes the songs that provoke the ancient vampires into revealing themselves, including Akasha, the first vampire, who has sat so long she’s practically become a stone statue. Her plan is to make Lestat the messiah of a new world, but her first-born “children” don’t agree. They eventually show Lestat the light, and he turns against her.
In Takács’ film, rather than using fame as a weapon, The Messiah becomes consumed by it. His message is commercialized, his image becomes a product, and his sacrifice is meant to break the hold that music and celebrity have over society. Since Metal Messiah predates Rice’s novel by more than a decade, it’s fascinating how both works arrive at similar ideas about how society treats some rock stars like gods.
The message is different here, where sacrifice is needed to dilute the power that music holds over the masses. For viewers unfamiliar with the era that shaped this film, it isn’t especially difficult to decipher. Between visual nods to Brian De Palma‘s Phantom of the Paradise and Richard O’Brien‘s The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Takács wears his influences proudly. Humanity appears doomed, with little hope of escaping its own obsession with spectacle. As ABBA sang in “Thank You for the Music,” without a song or a dance, what are we?
For audiences familiar with Takács’ work in Toronto’s underground punk scene, he captures the rebellious spirit of rock ‘n’ roll through his refusal to conform to traditional cinematic language. Beneath the low-budget aesthetics lies a film wrestling with several ideas, the most compelling being humanity’s willingness to surrender itself to the systems corporations build to manufacture culture, fame and desire.
For me, it all comes back to “Rose Tint My World” from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. In the context of this film, I couldn’t help but think about how much the music contributes to its identity. Unfortunately, the remaster didn’t update the end credits, leaving no complete track listing to help piece together what every song represents.
While Mike Danna and Tim Clement receive credit for assembling the soundtrack, and we know the featured vocalists include Moses, Mickey Posner and Jimmy Norman, one question remains. Where is this soundtrack? Could it stand on its own as a concept album? Considering the detective’s spoken-word passages and the film’s old-school multimedia presentation, I believe it could. It just needs the dialogue preserved alongside the music.
As for the production design, kudos go to Takács and Stephen Zollar for crafting a theatrical world that intentionally feels confined. Even as The Messiah accepts that his sacrifice is imminent, not even his departure can truly change the world around him. All anyone wants to do is shake it up, not turn it down, aliens be damned.
3½ Stars out of 5
Metal Messiah Original Trailer
