‘The Ballad of Judas Priest’ Berlinale Review: How Leather, Guitars, and Pure Attitude Shaped Heavy Metal

You can debate endlessly about which bands truly defined heavy metal—the founders, the game-changers, the ones that codified its sound. But eventually, every conversation circles back to one name: Judas Priest. Maybe they weren’t the first—give that crown to Black Sabbath—but Priest became the architects of metal’s grammar and style, both sonically and visually. Musically, they stepped away from bluesy hard rock, cranking up tempos, sharpening their rhythm, doubling down on precise, percussive attacks, and pioneering the twin-guitar harmonies that would become metal’s signature. Visually, they invented the leather-and-studs aesthetic we now instantly associate with metal, largely thanks to their iconic frontman, Rob Halford.

But leather was just the start. Judas Priest injected an industrial, militaristic, fetishized edge into rock, leaving behind the flower-power vibes of ’70s hard rock. Spikes, mirrored glasses, boots, military caps—a rigid, intimidating silhouette that translated sonic aggression into a visual language. Drawing from biker culture and BDSM imagery, they created a metal iconography that hundreds of bands worldwide would adopt from the late ’70s into the early ’80s.

This story begins in the industrial heart of England, Birmingham, in the West Midlands—the same gritty birthplace as Sabbath—where metal’s furnace forged countless bands. Priest endured early struggles, lineup changes, and setbacks before breaking into the mainstream nearly a decade later. What followed were more obstacles: internal conflicts, lawsuits, and controversies, all of which are laid bare in The Ballad of Judas Priest, a straightforward, chronological documentary co-directed by guitarist Tom Morello (Rage Against The Machine), a lifelong fan.

The film features all the band members—Halford, still sharp and commanding at 74—and a parade of superstar admirers: Dave Grohl, Jack Black, Billy Corgan, Kirk Hammett, Darryl McDaniels, Scott Ian, Lzzy Hale, and even the godfather himself, Ozzy Osbourne. They discuss the band’s evolution: the daring leather makeover, MTV-friendly hits like Breaking the Law, Painkiller, and Living After Midnight, the infamous trial over their lyrics, the ’90s crises and lineup changes, and Halford’s groundbreaking coming out. At times, the story veers into Spinal Tap territory, especially with the revolving door of drummers, but always with affection and humor.

Musically, the documentary shines in its attention to detail: Halford’s operatic vocals, the chemistry of KK Downing and Glenn Tipton’s dual guitars, their theatrical stagecraft, and the bond with fans. Despite Parkinson’s limiting Tipton today, and Downing’s sporadic appearances since leaving in 2011, the band’s longevity is astonishing—fifty years strong, with almost all members still alive and active.

Diehard fans may already know every anecdote, but watching them reminisce, pore over old footage, and analyze their evolution is rewarding. For those of us less steeped in Priest lore—or whose metal education came via Beavis & Butt-Head—the musicians’ devotion is striking: Hammett admits to tearing up when speaking of them. It’s a reminder that beyond the leather, the spikes, and the speed, Judas Priest built a legacy full of triumphs, heartbreaks, and the raw, unpredictable thrill that makes rock and roll immortal.