Stream It or Skip It: ‘Metalocalypse: Army of the Doomstar’ on HBO Max, a satisfyingly loud 'n' heavy conclusion to a cult-favorite series (2024)

It ends here: Metalocalypse: Army of the Doomstar (now on Max, in addition to VOD services like Amazon Prime Video) is the final impalement on the altar of hyperbole that is Metalocalypse, the cult-favorite Adult Swim animated show, here back from the dead with a feature-length finale after being mothballed for a decade. Created by Brendan Small (who also composes all the music), the series – a frequently very niche-y parody of heavy metal tropes, following the exploits of the five blockheads comprising the world’s biggest band, Dethklok – launched in 2006 and lasted for four seasons and a 47-minute “death metal rock opera” before the plug got pulled on all the madness. Par for the metal course, Metalocalypse is renowned for its musical-action sequences, soundtracked by deathy-thrashy odes to Satan, volcanoes, coffee, etc., and chock-full of outrageous gore (to match the most disgusting imagery ever spawned by Cannibal Corpse and Slayer and the like). So will this grand-guignol endgame of a movie have us flying the horns and headbanging up a frenzy, or will it leave us limp like a soggy bizkit?

METALOCALYPSE: ARMY OF THE DOOMSTAR: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: THE SUN. I think it’s the Doomstar, but I may not be high enough to know for sure. Anyway, it looms as doomy things tend to loom – in the foreground, forebodingly. Then we cut to the Earth’s surface, where Dethklok has been on an extended hiatus, and the world has suffered for it. I mean, the band is so massively popular, it exerts significant control over world politics and economics. Apparently a new Dethklok album would stimulate Earth out of a financial depression, if its band members don’t succumb to their own significant egos, insecurities and mighty dimwittedness. They live like kings, damn hell ass brainless kings, vaguely aware of what’s happening outside their dragon-shaped fortress-castle. And now here’s singer Nathan Explosion (Small), guitarists Toki Wartooth (Tommy Blacha) and Skwisgaar Skwigelf (Small), bassist William Murderface Murderface Murderface (Blacha) and Pickles the Drummer (Small), finally announcing a new album and tour. And the population doth rejoice.

But. Some sh*t happened in the “klok opera” – 2013’s Doomstar Requiem – leaving questions unanswered. Maybe you remember them? You should. I mean, Dethklok barely survived that sh*t. The band’s CFO became a high priest of the Church of the Black Klok, a mysterious cabal of Iluminati-like evildoers hung on to their dream of destroying Dethklok, and Murderface was infected with some horrible virus-thing that makes his arm all gross and veiny. Now, it all comes back to bite them in the ass at the worst time – just as they’re about to gift the planet with more brütal riffs, demonic vox and rampage drums. Human and inhuman and natural and unnatural forces conspire to bring about the “metalocalypse,” which is not good for the planet and its denizens, since it involves drowning everyone in blood and raining metal shards upon them. This is far from ideal.

The only solution to this conundrum? Dethklok must write a “song of salvation” that will ward off the evil forces. Easier said than done, especially since the band’s vaunted return was derailed by Nathan Explosion’s nervous breakdown, rendering him unable to quarterback a band that, without him, is just four inarticulate dipsh*ts peeling off sick licks and rhythms. Compounding the issue, Nathan only sings about death, so salvation is an unfamiliar concept to him. Meanwhile, Murderface’s arm-virus takes over his brain, which wouldn’t be a big deal since he’s just a bass player and you can’t hear the bass anyway, except that the virus is actually Mr. Salacia (Mark Hamill), a demonic creep of ill intent who wants to kill and destroy everything – I think, because a single co*ke Zero is not getting me quite high enough to comprehend all this. Maybe I need a second one?

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Biggest return of a cult TV series with a movie since Deadwood: The Movie? Yeah, sure, why not. At least the biggest return of a cult animated TV series with a movie since Rocko’s Modern Life: Static Cling.

Performance Worth Watching: An inside joke throughout the entire series is the challenge it poses for us to pinpoint our favorite metal luminaries’ guest-voice appearances. Scott Ian, Kirk Hammett and King Diamond turn up in Army of the Doomstar, but will you recognize them when you hear them?

Memorable Dialogue: My two favorite lines here:

Nathan Explosion: “Hope isn’t a metal concept… people come to me if they want a song about how your guts will be liquified by a weedwacker.”

Murderface: “Death – it’s a real get-out-of-jail-free card, isn’t it?”

Sex and Skin: Nathan Explosion’s bare cartoon ass.

Our Take: Life and death, love and hate, good and evil, camaraderie and betrayal – Army of the Doomstar has it all, including graphic cartoon imagery of people being impaled by the Washington Monument when it becomes a missile. But maybe it has too much. I’ve long asserted that Metalocalypse is most potent in espresso-shot-sized doses; for two seasons, the series consisted of 12-minute episodes, but its expansion to 22-minuters for the third threw a wrench in the comic timing. And while it’s a grand idea to expand upon the Metalocalypse world by indulging excursions into higher-concept storytelling – it all but begs to become Iron Maiden and Megadeth album covers brought to life – long-form specials like this and Doomstar Requiem are satisfying, but don’t leave us wanting more (which was part of the charm of the original format).

That’s likely why Army feels like a series of set pieces stitched together. We get a goofy sequence in the Church of the Black Klok where a Xanax-addled Nathan stumbles around, a guest appearance by glam-rock caricature Dr. Rockso (Blacha), a goofy-ass powwow with a songwriting guru, a sequence where Nathan goes on a drug-induced spiritual journey, and a couple of bloodsoaked action excursions soundtracked by songs like (checks notes) “Aortic Desecration” and, um, “Poisoned by Food” maybe? Such moments are, typical for the series, loopy and offbeat, a slave to its own peculiar and endearing comic rhythm, but they don’t always flow smoothly as an 80-odd-minute narrative.

Despite a few belabored moments and the nagging feeling that the movie could be more succinct and punchy, Army of the Doomstar will inevitably slake the thirst of Dethklok lifers who understand all the subcultural in-jokes, and might just be stoned enough not only to follow the slightly overbaked (sorry) plot convolutions, but also to laugh at some of these amusingly knackered and profane jokes. Visually, it’s a treat, an ambitious and ridiculous expansion of an aesthetic inspired by some of the most hyperbolic music ever written. And that’s Metalocalypse’s M.O. – it always buried us in hyperbole, like a volcano belching ash, flame and lava, and kept scorching the earth all the way to the end.

Our Call: Army of the Doomstar doesn’t click on all cylinders like the best Metalocalypse episodes, but it’s nevertheless a worthy conclusion to a beloved cult series. STREAM IT.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.