Anvil! The Story of Anvil vs. Heavy Metal in Baghdad

Fig.1: Suroosh Alvi (second from left) and his Iraqi escorts, aka his favoritest bestest pals in the entire goddamn universe

As filmmaker and Vice Magazine co-founder Suroosh Alvi has a flack jacket applied to his body before his arrival in Baghdad to visit the members of Iraq’s only heavy metal band, Acrassicauda, he looks into the camera and explains the danger he and his crew are about to enter just to speak to a bunch of Iraqi headbangers. “This is risky, it’s dangerous. People say it’s really fucking stupid… for us to be doing this. But, um, you know… Heavy Metal rules.”

This is how the 2007 film Heavy Metal in Baghdad opens, and while Alvi is referring to the rationale behind a life-threatening attempt to film a movie about the trials and tribulations of playing evil, “satanic” heavy metal under the yoke of Saddam’s regime (and then under the religious oppression of the Islamic government that replaced him), those three words—“Heavy Metal rules”—are the distilled essence of this year’s entrant in the unlikely-heroes rockumentary derby, Anvil! The Story of Anvil (which screened on Monday at the North Shore Cinema , thanks to the rock stars at Milwaukee Film, and will continue its engagement on May 1 at the Marcus Ridge Theatre in New Berlin).

Fig.2: The members of Anthrax also cited Anvil as the originators of the Stupid Wacky-Ass Thrash-Metal Grin

While Heavy Metal in Baghdad showcases the difficulties of playing in a band whose practice space gets bombed by heavy artillery, Anvil focuses on the two primary members of the long-tenured Canadian band of the same name (who are cited in the movie as a huge influence by Slash, Lars Ulrich and Scott Ian of Anthrax): singer/guitarist Steve “Lips” Kudlow and drummer Robb Reiner (whose name is only one of the many creepy touchpoints this very real-life band shares with the fictitious Spinal Tap), and their ongoing struggle to emerge from their status as early-80s metal also-rans. Most importantly, though, both films share a very important message for every struggling musician out there trying to keep the faith while grasping for the brass ring (be it rock stardom or the freedom to grow your hair long without getting lynched): stick with it long enough, and eventually, a documentary filmmaker will come along to tell your story and make you famous.

First World Problems vs. Third World Problems

The most obvious point of comparison between the two films is the struggles both bands face in order to achieve their individual goals (to say nothing of the goals themselves). Anvil as a band has existed since the 1970s and at one point shared festival stages with the Scorpions and Bon Jovi. However, the random machinations of the music biz (as well as hired-gun songwriter Desmond “I co-wrote a song for KISS on the same album Michael Fucking Bolton Did” Child) resulted in Bon Jovi gracing the covers of Circus, Hit Parader and Teen Beat while the gnarlier, less marketable Canadians faded into obscurity and a life of school lunch catering. The film follows the band’s misadventures as they attempt a European tour and record their thirteenth album (cleverly titled This is Thirteen, because the band ignores the age-old advice handed down between generations of skyscraper architects: ALWAYS SKIP THIRTEEN WHEN YOU’RE NUMBERING SHIT. And Lips and Robb wonder why that prick club owner in Prague wouldn’t pay them. Sure, guys, you hadn’t recorded it yet, but you were thinking about it! The god of metal [um, Satan, I guess] was sending you a sign!). The band handles missed trains and low attendance with the proper “hey, at least we got to play our music in Europe” attitude, but multiple hissyfits between Lips and Robb make it easy to see that 30 years of obscurity while shooting for rock star fame have taken their toll on these guys.

Fig.3: Robb and Lips debate the First World problem of bands who walk around wearing their own merchandise

But even the members of Anvil would likely watch the story of Acrassicauda, the Iraqi band at the center of Heavy Metal in Baghdad, and think to themselves “man, maybe I should quit my bitching.” Acrassicauda are officially the Brian Regan “I Walked on the Moon” men of heavy metal, as they can trump any band’s tale of woe. “Oh, man, yeah, that 30-hour drive from Albuquerque to Oshkosh [NOTE: actual idiotic tour drive by my band!] sounds like hell. Reminds me of when we fled from Baghdad to Damascus while hoping a scud missile didn’t vaporize us and our families. Wow, that sucks that you only played in front of 8 people in Sacramento. Did we ever tell you about how half the people who saw us play in Baghdad are dead now?” God! Fine. You win.

Fig.4: Also, if you think you have it rough, imagine being in a thrash band with haircuts like these. Total bummer, bro

Still, a dear friend of mine once taught me a very valuable lesson with the following phrase: “emotional pain is relative.” Sure, compared to Acrassicauda (by the way, whenever someone asks you how to spell “Acrassicauda,” the answer is “go to their Wikipedia page and hit CTRL-C”), the trials of Anvil can be filed away under “White Problems,” but to whitewash (ha) the band’s story is to miss the point. While many a struggling rock band would look at Anvil’s European tour and say, “oh, gee, they didn’t play thousand-seat venues every night while they got to see a foreign continent, woe unto them,” the film does a fantastic job of making you root for these guys by showcasing a few of their naysayers—notably, Robb’s sister, Droid (who, judging by her name, seems to be in no position to criticize. Hey, maybe I’ve been chasing a foolish dream for 30 years, but at least my name isn’t fricking Droid) and Lips’ entire family. Whether you’re a band of Iraqi refugees or fiftysomething Canadians, having family that doesn’t believe in you is pain that is all too real. And speaking of family…

The Year’s True Bromantic Comedy

Anvil spends a good chunk of time talking to Lips’ mom, Robb’s sister, and other family members who are resigned to being supportive of their brothers’ dreams (in one especially touching scene, Lips’ older sister agrees to finance the recording of This is Thirteen while the “I just want my brother to be happy” exhaustion on her face is palpable) while confiding to the camera their belief in the dream’s inherent foolishness. The wives of the two bandmates, however, nobly stand by their men, almost as defiant of apparent reality as the boys are. But the ladies are on the screen for what amounts to a blip of time compared to the depth with which we are allowed to explore the relationship between lifelong pals Lips and Robb. At one point (during a blowup that nearly causes a Nigel Tufnel-like departure from the band), Lips refers to Robb as the most important person in his life. I’d wonder how Mrs. Kudlow reacted to that, if I didn’t already know my share of band widows.

The face time the Anvil wives get, however, is The Ten Commandments long compared to the big fat zero served up by Heavy Metal in Baghdad. The members of Acrassicauda have families too—wives and children—but they’re nowhere to be seen in their film. There could be reasons for this (considering the Muslim world’s treatment of women, maybe it was forbidden?), but it’s still unfortunate that we never get to hear what the Iraqis’ wives think about their husbands’ life-threatening desire to make music. If I were a betting man, I’d guess that since it’s gotten the band residency in America (as of February of this year), they’re probably all for it. But it’d be nice to know.

Fig.5: The liberated locks of Acrassicauda (image ripped off from courtesy the New York Times)

Heavy Metal Rules

But ultimately the common thread between these two movies comes back to Suroosh Alvi and his declaration that heavy metal is worth risking your life for. While I’m not sure the parents of most starving musicians will watch Anvil or Baghdad and suddenly identify with their children’s passion (after all, that bit I said before about every band getting their own star-making documentary if they stick to it long enough wasn’t true—sorry to disappoint you guys. Although my band has a shitload of filmmaker pals, so hmmm…anyone want to turn Milwaukee into an oppressive fanatical war zone so we have a dramatic enough backdrop for our story?), there’s not a single musician (hell, not a single artist) in the audience who will watch either film and not immediately respond to the repeated “if I didn’t have music as an outlet I’d go insane”-style declarations throughout both movies. When struck by the urge to create, the true heroes are the ones who will brave whatever must be endured to make that happen—be it a soul-sucking food service job or a fanatical insurgency. The members of Anvil and Acrassicauda are all heroes in their own way, and their respective films expertly depict their heroism as they keep the faith and shine a beacon of hope onto every musician who’s endured weeks of travel in unsafe $500 vans, countless ass-poundings by unscrupulous club owners, and nights smashing spiders next to your head so you can get 90 minutes of sleep in the bartender’s basement while he does lines of coke upstairs in the living room and blasts Moulin Rouge on the TV [NOTE: true story again!]. The next time your band catches a crappy break and you’re tempted to say “screw it” and live a normal life of steady work and steady relationships, throw in Anvil! The Story of Anvil or Heavy Metal in Baghdad and remind yourself that it’s all worth it, because music fucking RULES.