As Culkin and Cortlund develop their characters from adolescent outcasts to severely troubled souls, it becomes clear that both are trapped Euronymous by his grief and pride, Varg by his rage and desire to leave a mark. It’s on this dramatic knife edge that screenwriters Akerlund and Dennis Magnusson balance the narrative the eye-rolling antics of a bunch of wayward boys slowly evolving into something far more terrifying. As these acts of vandalism become ever more elaborate, and talk among the group turns to murder, Euronymous finds himself swept along, his desire to save face and maintain his air of influence overriding his desire to flee. Christian renames himself Varg and begins to demonstrate a thirst for anarchy that soon evolves into action the burning of rural churches being his chosen method of protest. It’s all talk, however, until he meets Christian (Emory Cohen), a softly-spoken fan whose own musical talent gains him access to Euronymous’ inner circle. Swallowing his grief, Euronymous forges ahead with his music, opens a record store and spouts his mantra of mayhem to all he meets. Dead’s suicide is filmed in intimate, gory detail, at sharp contrast to the wry humour that accompanied earlier scenes. What happens next is a flashpoint moment, both for the film and Euronymous himself. While Euronymous’ talk of satanic sacrifice plays like teenage posturing, however, it’s clear that Dead is losing the battle against his own personal demons. When they advertise for a singer, Swedish Per (Jack Kilmer), also known as ‘Dead’, arrives on their doorstep the band moves into a rural hovel to work on their music and Euronymous and Dead develop a close friendship. While the long-haired Oystein, also known as Euronymous, is something of a misfit, he has enough similarly-minded mates to start a band, Mayhem, who create the screeching, guttural music known as ‘Norwegian black metal’.
This peaceful opening is shattered first by Oystein’s sardonic voiceover - “I was brought to this world to create suffering, chaos and death,” he intones without a hint of irony - and then by images of him headbanging with friends in his grungy bedroom. When we meet teenager Oystein Aarseth, he lives with his parents in the beautiful suburbs of Oslo, Norway. Favourable critical reaction could fuel modest success on VOD platforms.Īn almost unrecognisable, fully committed Rory Culkin delivers an impressive central performance in this story which is, as an opening caption attests, ‘based on truth and lies’. While Lords of Chaos will be sought out by fans of the music, and those who have read the non-fiction book by Michael Moynihan and Didrik Soderlind on which it is based, its oppressive atmosphere, gore and unrelenting soundtrack mean it’s unlikely to appeal to audiences outside of this particular black circle.
Despite the film’s inherent shock value, Lords Of Chaos still manages to successfully mine the explosive psychology of adolescent angst - even if the horror movie aesthetics occasionally threatens to overwhelm proceedings. The bloodiest of violence and the heaviest of metal make for an incendiary mix in Jonas Akerlund’s portrait of the underground Norwegian music scene in the early 1990s.