I had in mind to write about something else this week, but our new software platform for the blog was acting up (as you might have noticed), and in the meantime I received an intriguing communication from a reader, the art critic Daniel Quiles, about Werner Herzog. Yes, there has been a lot about Herzog on the site recently, but in my mind there can never be too much. He and a few other directors keep the movies vibrating for me. Not every movie needs to vibrate, but unless a few do, the thrill is gone.
Herzog seems to react strongly to subjects he wants to make a film about. You never hear him saying someone "brought me a project," or his agent sent him a screenplay. Every one of his films is in some sense autobiographical: It is about what consumed him at that moment. The form of the film might be fiction, might be fact, might be a hybrid. The material dictates the form, and often his presence in the film dictates the material: It would not exist if he were not there. In a way, that's what Quiles is writing about in connection with "Encounters at the End of the World."
Quiles: First of all, no other director in history could turn a blizzard-safety exercise into an allegory for the extinction of human life on this planet. This is sheer mastery of the documentary form.Two additional issues that interest me are the motif of language and Herzog's occasionally dismissive treatment of the day-workers at McMurdo. Apocalyptic as the film is, it is in equal measure profoundly optimistic about the myriad languages that persist even in Antarctica, both human and animal. While the scientific languages we encounter have to be translated for us to comprehend them, Herzog does his best to do justice to their different modes of understanding the universe and bringing it "into its magnificence," as the Bulgarian tractor-driver concludes the film. Language-- what facilitates any "encounter" and puts the non-sense of the universe into sense-- is the life-force that struggles against our ongoing demise.
Hence Herzog's outrage at the lapsed linguist who professes not to care that a language has died (though it obliterated his career and sent him to the middle of nowhere, so perhaps he did). Here, in a brief sequence, the film gets quite un-Herzogian. This man is one of two characters who the director does not allow to speak for themselves, using an interesting and hilarious trick of cutting them off via voice-over. To me this runs contradictory to Herzog's recent films, in which Treadwellesque characters are given center stage and allowed to run their mouths to their hearts' content. In "Encounters," it is the highly skilled masters of their languages (the scientists) who are idealized, while the professional adventurers of McMurdo, who labor in miserable conditions at high salaries to fund globetrotting excursions for the rest of the year, are bores and phonys, akin to the buffoon running around the world breaking Guinness Book records.
Remarkably, Herzog laments that adventure ended more than a century ago; these people never got the memo. Treadwell of "Grizzly Man" didn't get it, either, but he was mad enough to put himself in harm's way and film it (not unlike our dear director). Treadwell and Graham Dorrington in "The White Diamond" seem like two poles for Herzog now, mad outcast and mad scientist, with those in between them not proving interesting enough. In "Encounters," I get the sense that Herzog, like the old master that he is, is favoring the Dorrington side, that of the scientist, that of craft and virtuosity.
Ebert again. Quiles is right that Herzog has no interest in the in-between. Whether "mad outcast and mad scientist" represent the two poles of his work is open to question for this reason: Are they mad? Bruno S. of "Kaspar Hauser" and "Stroszek" was apparently in some degree mentally ill, or damaged as a child. Klaus Kinski behaved insanely at times, but I sense he was crafty like a fox, using his reputation to get his way. It wasn't a stretch for him to play the title role in "Nosferatu." But for the most part Herzog deals with sane people at the extremes. They can think logically, and he is fascinated by the choices their logical thinking has driven them to.
Quiles cites "The White Diamond," the film about a man who designed an airship to investigate the unknown eco-system that lives in the treetops of the Amazon, and has no contact with the ground. When you see Dorrington's teardrop airship and learn of its safety history, you may put him among the outcasts, but when he talks of uncounted species never seen by man, you can return him to the scientists. And what of Herzog himself? On the airship's maiden flight, he insists on handling the camera himself, because (1) he does not want to risk the life of his cinematographer, and (2) if there is only one flight, how else to obtain the footage? What is he here? Mad artist?
Not mad at all. Simply brave, and like all great directors, determined to get that footage. If the airship crashes, there may be no more Herzog but if he doesn't go, there will be no film. There is also a Herzog movie, "Lessons of Darkness," in which he put himself in the middle of the blazing oil wells of Kuwait. And one, shown at Telluride but not I believe widely released, in which he and his team were trapped on a mountaintop by a blizzard and nearly died. He grows a little annoyed as people cite some of these stories, because they make him seem reckless, and that he is not. He does what he must to get his film, calculating the situation, hoping not to be surprised.
He is annoyed when some writers (including me) have suggested he went hundreds of miles up the Amazon on a lark, seeking the "voodoo of location" for "Fitzcarraldo." In fact, as he corrected me, he had a perfectly sensible location, but it was burnt down in a border war, and he was forced to move to the only other place where two tributaries of the Amazon were close enough to pull a boat overland between them. (His determination to physically move a real boat raises other questions, but never mind.)
The phrase "voodoo of location" was first used by Herzog in my hearing when he explained that, for his "Nosferatu," he sought out and used as many of the same locations as he could from the silent classic by Murnau. In some sense the genius of Murnau would haunt the film. If I were a producer asked to finance the film, that would sound like madness, but as a film critic, it makes perfect sense to me.
Herzog is unfairly overlooked when critics release lists of the best filmmakers working today. No genre or format is too challenging or difficult; all are within his reach. He is unusually dedicated simply to seeing and experiencing the visceral thrill of simple images, like that great, slow shot that opens "Aguirre, the Wrath of God." In fact, it's almost impossible to think of another filmmaker who has such an unmatched eye for formulating the right image within a genre. He's a special filmmaker.
I totally agree about the "voodoo of location." I've seen less than ten of Herzog's movies (only because they're so hard to find!), but every time I watch them, I come away feeling totally awestruck, like someone pumped my brain full of ... I don't know. Wonder? Ambition? Madness, maybe? Only two kinds of people film movies like "Aguirre" deep in the Amazon rainforest: geniuses and psychos, and sometimes I wonder if Herzog falls into category B ...
Anyway, I can't describe it (and frankly, I don't want to); all I know is that those movies wouldn't have been nearly as amazing if Herzog had filmed them the Hollywood way - on sets, a mile from the California beaches. (This is also why I loved Tarsem's "The Fall" so much - a movie I wouldn't have seen if you hadn't given it such a great review. Thanks for the tip, Mr. Ebert!)
Dear Roger,
The producer of Grizzly Man and Encounters, Erik Nelson, forwarded me your conversation with an art critic (Quiles), and I have the feeling that these people do not have the ability to simply look straight at a movie any more.
If you find it useful, please introduce my remarks into this ongoing discourse (without giving my e-mail address away):
About the linguist: I intentionally steered the discourse with him into the terrain of dying languages. Both of us are deeply worried by the prospect of the future: about 90% of all of the roughly 6.500 spoken languages today will be extinct well before the end of this century. I am already in the planning stage to do a long-term documentary project on last speakers of a language.
It is a total misreading of the sequence that Bill Jirsa (the linguist) does not care that possibly during our conversation a language has died.
I had to cut him off and summarize his travails with academia, as this was a highly complex story which went on and on for about forty minutes. The next following sequence with the computer expert and traveler Karen Joyce I had to cut short as well, and give only some taste of her way of exploring the world, as she went on non-stop for about two hours - without ever making a full stop or a comma in her tales. There was literally no chance during editing to ever get out of her most wonderful stories. I love both of them dearly, and they have forgiven me that my film's total running time had to be under two hours.
No one is a phony in my film. They are most fascinating human beings, and I wish I could have them as friends forever, even though our encounters were so brief.
The pogo-stick man breaking Guiness book records was archival footage I found. I never met him, but his story and attitude makes a clear point.
Best,
Werner
Herzog is currently shooting in New Orleans, my home, and I love him for that. He gave a Q&A at the single screen theatre down the street from me two weeks ago, following a screening of "Encounters." His faith truly moves mountains, his passion is unparalleled in the world of film, and he serves as a great inspiration to me. I can't wait to see what he's going to do next.
I am honored to be brought into dialogue with not just one but two of my models, especially about a movie that I adored as much as -Encounters-.
I hope to clarify two of my points, as briefly as I can.
First, I would soften my language with regard to the day-workers at McMurto. Indeed, in the film there are only two instances of the voice-over interruption that I mention above, and the other such workers at the station are treated as eloquent and essential voices. So I apologize if I suggested that Herzog sets up a simplistic dichotomy between the workers and the scientists; this is not the case.
My interest was in the film's contention that "adventure" died more than a century ago, and the implications of this idea for the myth-making around Herzog's work on the one hand (-Fitzcarraldo- & co.), and for the subjects of recent documentaries such as -Grizzly Man- and -The White Diamond- on the other. If the category of "adventure," tied as it was to the notion of the frontier, is over, what does it mean to pursue extremes in remote locations? I don't have an answer, though I was venturing that maybe it could be tied to language-- to making sense of the world.
Second, in response to Roger: my use of the term "mad" was a bit careless. I would be the last person to suggest that Kinski, Treadwell, or Dorrington were in any way "insane." One thing that I value in Herzog's films is how they obliterate the categories of "normal" and "abnormal," most poignantly in the Bruno S. films. Kaspar Hauser, for example, has more insight into the culture in which he lives than anyone else. Dorrington's risk-taking ultimately pays off with unprecedented discoveries.
I guess the idea that comes up again and again here is "extremes." Extremes are relative, of course. Some of the best humor in -Encounters- comes from the matter-of-factness of so much of the activity there; for these people, this is normal life.
As for not being able to "look straight" at a movie, I suppose I can only plead that while I watch a film, I look very straight indeed. Once the film is over, however, I think about it, and patterns occur to me. I like to think that my thoughts are part of the world of the film, insofar as I am part of its audience.
all best,
Daniel Quiles
I have yet to see Encounters, but cannot really pass an opportunity to voice my gratitude for Herzog. While one could argue that he is indeed the greatest living filmmaker or point toward Grizzly Man as a seminal work in "documentary," perhaps I am most grateful for the inspiration his works palpitate to me as a viewer. One might have to have an inquisitive nature, or openness not readily available to casual viewers, but for me the best bit of "voodoo" surrounding Herzog is that which happens between his films and myself. When one finishes a Herzog film the world readjusts just that little bit, and I start wondering, maybe about a strange building as I drive by in my car, or a person shuffling along a crowded street, ignored by passerbys yet looking as if he does not fit in, as if something in his life keeps him slightly out of step with the masses. Herzog films inspire me to pick up a camera; to investigate somethings ignored value.
Film critic Armond White (a writer who I often find insightful) has recently been slagging on Werner Herzog for what he perceives to be Herzog's preference for "hipster nihilism," (as if one could forget the sublime Rescue Dawn) of course I can only speak for myself, but I find that ultimately Herzog whether by design or default cant help but leave viewers in awe of humanity and its capacities, even if sometimes their capacity leads them into the murky depths of madness. It is Herzog's talent that their madness, mistakes, and ill luck are transformed by his cinematic technique into an almost imperceptible blueprint, a construction of life into art into that voodoo that can only take place in the human mind, whispering to us that great things are out there, or more inspiring yet, inside the mind, waiting to be uncovered by those brave enough to pioneer unknown regions.
I just have to say that it is amazing to see this conversation unfold! It is almost as if I am sitting within earshot of a great discussion.
That is all.
- Jozef
Mr. Ebert,
I wish you had taken a similar attitude when writing your 2007 "Mishima" review. I was saddened that you dismissed Mishima as "insane". This dismissal distorts or even prevents understanding and it reveals a cultural bias I'm sure you wouldn't endorse.
Looking straight at a film or story and simultaneously seeing its dimensions is a talent. My husband possesses it. I, by contrast, must take time for percolation and discussion. Perhaps it is our differences in thought processes, visual versus conceptual.
Another world of difference seems to be the separate experiences of making and seeing a film. One is so personal and physical, while the other dwells in the collective realm and one's intellect/emotions.
Documenting a group of people who are each the last speaker of his/her individual language must be a story of loss and loneliness. The difference in making such a film and seeing it would be immeasurable.
Dear Mr. Ebert,
Thank you for introducing me to Werner Herzog's films. If not for you, I would have a different favorite director. His films take me places I've never been, mentally and emotionally, and for that I am grateful.
-Chase
I'd argue that it is the unique nature of Herzog's obsessions, or the unique nature of his subject's obsessions, that define his ouevre. We all know people who bring the same singularity of purpose to their lives that Treadwell brought to his, but the subject of that obsession (savantism?) is less exotic. You would not have to scratch many CEO's, or sports figures, or, for that matter, neighbours with immaculate lawns, to find the same psychological profile as many of Herzog's subjects. When viewed in the context of the Antartic, or fighting oil fires, or living among grizzlies, it's madness. In the board room, it's tenacity.
I'm wondering, Mr. Ebert, if there are any other directors like Herzog today. It seems with the blockbuster mentality going strong still, everyone either plays it safe or plays it to a niche audience. I admire that Herzog just goes off and does what he wants to do, but are there no true auteurs anymore? Is Herzog part of a dying breed?
Herzog reaches for greatness every time out, and as Christian Wright points out, there is a spirit in Herzog that seems lacking with the blockbuster mentality. That said, I'll suggest three directors who seem to reach towards auteur-dom, if you forgive the mishmashed non-word:
Oliver Stone - Mr. Ebert himself has mentioned this name in connection with Herzog. His technique is not subtle, and his movie are not always successful, but no modern filmmaker has taken as many artistic homerun swings. You sense, even in a piece of tripe like "Alexander" that this is the work of someone who wants to say and film great things.
Paul Thomas Anderson - all of his films since Hard Eight have been operatic in scope, and working on a giant canvas. Indeed, "Magnolia" and "There Will Be Blood" contain passages that I would suspect Herzog would admire. For an age that is starving for great images, the virtually silent scene with the burning derricks against the dusk is unforgettable.
Quentin Tarantino - this is a less obvious choice, but I must list him in that his work comes from a particular place in the imagination. Blogs and message boards will point to all of the various sources he plunders, but that misses the point. Everybody has a reservoir of literature, images they go to -- it is just that Tarantino elevates it into statements about the craft and narrative itself. His work lacks the sheer "large-ness" of the other two, but in terms of the spirit of simply doing what he wants, and not playing it safe, he is a good name to toss out there.
Thanks in part to you Roger I have begun my voyage through Herzog's films. I have only now seen Grizzly Man, but was impacted by it a great deal. Treadwell and Herzog's unobtrusive voiceover's still haunt me to this day.
Dear Mr. Ebert,
I am an eighteen year old fresh out of Cocalico High School in Pennsylvania, where film is neither taught nor talked about (with the exception of a few well-intentioned comedies such as 'Superbad' or the unavoidable summer blockbusters like 'The Dark Knight'). Despite this, I have been steadily reading your reviews for three years, collecting your published works such as 'The Great Movies, vol. 1 and 2' and 'Awake In The Dark' in the process. I have always found a warm glow radiating from your work; a white light
that continues to motivate me through many a bleak night or hopeless situation. Your contagious love of the cinema is what keeps me elevated and purposed.
This new entry into your canon feels like the manifestation of nearly all of my fears and worries since I began my obsession with the celluloid universe. In your journal, you bring to light just how difficult it is to teach, create, and bring adventure into a world turned deaf. That is why you are right Mr. Ebert, Herzog is brave. He is brave for persevering when he doesn't have to, to create vibrations on a planet deadened by white noise. Herzog is fascinated and fueled by eccentrics, once ordinary humans who had the audacity to become extraordinary, though the rest of humanity would sooner pass them by or write them off as 'madmen'.
Thanks to your movie bibles, the 'Great Movies' books, and several invaluable reviews, I have easily been able to locate and obtain Herzog's past masterworks such as 'Fitzcarroldo', 'Grizzly Man', and 'Aguirre: The Wrath of God'. In my mind, these are movies that both empower and warn against the occasionally destructive nature of individual tenacity, sometimes in the same film. The results of their persistant determination often gains them fame, but at devastating costs. In the case of Herzog himself, I feel his bravery and mastery of craft eclipses the danger he puts himself in. As you noted, he does what he must to get his footage. He's still managed to keep his mind sharp and his body intact.
I have not yet seen 'Encounters', but what I have read from you and heard from Michael Phillips has been more than enough to encourage me to see it. I would like to close by thanking you, Mr. Ebert, for your insightful writings, which have given words to my passions and dreams. I hope to meet you some day, but until then I'll continue posting on your site (I've only recently felt confident enough to provide my own feedback). Still, even if my feedback is absent from your page while I'm at college, you can be sure I'll continue reading your work.
Thanks again,
Nick Young
I'm glad Werner Herzog took Daniel Quiles to task for misunderstanding his scene with the linguist. I sensed a real affection for all of his interviewees in his film. I would love it if someone could actually transcribe what is said by and about the linguist in that scene--I recall some hilarious notions about the dead language being dangerous to life on Earth. Who but Herzog could ask a biologist about "gay penugins" and a) keep a straight face, and b) actually be serious (sort of)?
I was delighted with the dedication at the end of "Encounters at the End of the World" to Roger Ebert. I most likely would not have been in the theater had Ebert not written about "Aguierre" in his "Great Movies." I've been a fan (follower, worshiper?) of Herzog's movies ever since. His "ecstatic truth" is something I look for in life as well as art. The "voodoo of location" is a concept saddly lost on people like George Lucas (despite his filming in Tunisia). My favorite words from Herzog: "Tourism is a sin, and travel on foot a virtue."
In response to Christian Wright's question if there are any other directors like Herzog today, to my thinking, now that Stanley Kubrick and Robert Altman have passed on, the only mainstream filmaker who follows his obsession down intensely chalenging slopes is (of all people) James Cameron. Hardly an arthousee name, to be sure, but who else would dive so deep, build so big, spend so much, design underwater helmets, or have serious thoughts about filming in outer space. I just wish he would also take a page from Herzog's playbook and be more prolific.
Shane:
It has been a few weeks since I last saw the film, so I do not recall the precise language that Herzog employs (perhaps another commenter can help us out). But unless my memory deceives me, I do not remember Herzog describing Jirsa's perspective in flattering terms.
I described this sequence, as well as the one with Karen Joyce, as unusual for Herzog, precisely because I find him to normally be the most compassionate and accomodating of documentarians in terms of allowing his subjects to speak. For example, our sense of Dorrington and Treadwell's humanity grows as we hear more and more of their words; the effect is cumulative.
I accept Herzog's explanation that this was a way to fit these longer stories into -Encounters-. My original impression was simply that these sequences fit with the film's critique of "adventure": Herzog's very funny disgust with first-world amenities at McMurdo, the poetic reflections on Shackleton, and the Guinness Book footage. My sense was that a certain kind of insincere or hubristic adventure was being contrasted with those in the film with genuine curiosity about the world, whose business, as I argue above, is language: making sense of the world.
But as I concede above, perhaps it was not fair to suggest that Herzog is anything but warm towards any of his subjects. Below is part of an email from my friend Kevin Palmer, himself a film editor, who critiques me quite nicely...
***
And while Herzog may permit us to laugh at his subjects (the linguist included), I think there is more warmth towards them than you imply. Even the less successful dreamers are dreamers still.
We may laugh at them, as we may laugh at our friends - but that laughter (seems to me) to be suffused with respect - because while we may find their failings humorous, their strivings and their dreaming can only be admired.
***
It's wonderful to follow the debate. I will just remind you all to get a copy of 'Lessons of Darkness' which could look like a Werner Herzog selfportrait and don't forget 'Little Dieter Needs To Fly'. It's in my opinion one of the best film in the world. And to Mr. David Singleton: It takes only two click to buy a Herzog DVD either via Amazon or Herzog's office in Munich: wernerherzog.com. They have almost all of his film on DVD (in English as well) and the famous boxset collection 1962-1999.
Best,
Simon Bang, Copenhagen
Understand that I am a huge admirer of Mr. Herzog's, and have been a solid fan for about ten years now (I've seen just about everything, and I even ordered the massive DVD collection of his non-fiction films he was selling from his website... even HERAKLES, his first, is utterly fascinating)... But perhaps it's because I'm going through some tough emotional stuff in my life right now that I had began to wonder, after catching ENCOUNTERS at the Nuart in L.A., whether Mr. Herzog's true scorn for human folly runs as deep as it seems, and where his human warmth lies? Since he, himself, I'm sure, recognizes some of his films as truly subjective pseudopodia of his POV, how can he be so vehement about "tree huggers" and a humanity that marks the end of the world with a gonzo frozen fish? Does Herzog himself truly foster no comforting illusions? And is it such a sin to alleviate reality with a little tree-hugging? What do we have to lose, in a larger universe, by living our lives foolishly? (accepting that we try not to harm others or the environment)
According to Quiles, Herzog does "not allow [all of the characters] to speak for themselves" in "Encounters at the End of the World." Does this mean that Herzog is not a true documentarian? To what extent is a documentarian allowed to adjust a film's content? Does one, in turn, create a work of fiction if utilizing such a practice?
I hate to seem as if I'm piling further criticism on my old friend Dan - but to expand on my above quoted point I will proceed, unconcerned with perceptions.
What is most interesting to me (and I believe to Herzog) about Timothy Treadwell, the divers bellow the antarctic ice sheet, the linguist in the hydroponic greenhouse and the blimp building ecologist in Guyana, is what connects them, not what separates them. What they share is the distances (metaphorical as well as literal) they have traveled to further their understanding of the universe surrounding them. In a world now devoid of uncharted places, they seek out knowledge of the unknown and the experience which is unexpected. It is we who sit on the pole opposite them, complacent in academia or commercial post-production (to pick a couple random examples).
And it is not that adventure is dead, but rather that it has shifted to paths which are less obvious, paths which they are following.
They are the Fitzcarroldos and the Hausers.
I didn't quite follow the story of the linguist and his failed dissertation. Maybe it wasn't so confusing. It was a late screening, or perhaps I was overly distracted by his facial hair.
I would like to hear more of his story someday. Herzog's voice over certainly is employed for humor, but humor does not preclude empathy and compassion.
As a former (though not particularly serious) student of linguistics, I would also say that despite Chomsky and universal language theory, I doubt there is a linguist on Earth (even a failed one, or a former and not particularly serious one) who is not saddened by the ongoing mass extinction of languages. It just doesn't seem plausible to me - as absurd as an art historian blithely watching fires consume the Louvre.
I look forward to Herzog's proposed long term work.
And in contrast to what you describe as Herzog's "dismissive treatment of" the base workers, I think the Native American plumber and the mechanic (is he Hungarian? I can't quite remember) are treated with a great deal of respect. The mechanic is told he need not continue speaking when he becomes agitated. Perhaps a more respectful choice would have been to omit that portion of his interview entirely. Could Herzog be calling a bit too much attention to himself and his compassion by leaving it in? Maybe, but then again Herzog himself is an essential character in any Herzog documentary.
I should also say that I very much like the way editor Joe Bini holds on the journeyman plumber in a wide shot after he has finished his seemingly pre-conceived (and likely many times previously delivered) spiel regarding his finger length and purported Aztec royal lineage. Something about him returning to work gives him a degree of humanity that he lacked when speaking for himself in such a forced and unnatural way. I assume that Herzog and Bini knew something was lacking in that interview. Those few hundred frames of the plumber awkwardly turning and igniting his torch - seemingly uncertain whether or not the interview was actually over - contained an honesty of action that made it impossible for me to feel anything but empathy for him. It is this sort of choice - an atypical though very simple choice - which I hope I will be able to perceive and make in my own work. (It should be noted that I write this violently jealous of Joe Bini and his talents).
This discussion reminds me of discussions I've had (with the art critic Daniel Quiles among others) over the past 14 years about another documentary, "The Gates of Heaven" (if you haven't seen it you should - and soon) and what I think is the often mistaken impression among viewers that Morris is mocking those subjects. But this has gotten a bit long winded and that argument belongs in a comment to a different posting.
In the end the most important thing that can be said of a movie is also the simplest.
"I really liked it."
And why didn't I know about this blog sooner?
In response to David Epstein's query about whether or not ENCOUNTERS counts as a documentary, I would like to add my long-simmering two cents: EVERY film is a documentary of something, and no film is the evening news. Ever since Michael Moore's films broke through to that larger audience who would have never previously dreamt of going to the theater to watch a doc, we've been hit time and again with this notion (mostly by those angered by the Moore viewpoint) that somehow a documentary is meant to be an unbiased piece of reporting without any editorializing. What bollocks! If you're looking for purely objective truth, stare at one thing with your eyes open for two hours and don't allow your thoughts to cloud your vision with perspective - you might get close to this mysterious concept of "objectivity". On the other hand, once I take a piece of film and add a cut, or join two images together that fit thematically but did not happen sequentially in time, I am now in the world of the subjective, and have dissolved any remnant of the notion that what you are watching (my film) does not have me essentially in-between you and it. I think that every work of documentary film is, in some ways, a work of fiction... and every work of fiction is, in some ways, a documentary. Real life does not have the poetry that an assembly of cuts, overseen by a human with an imagination, does. We ONLY get the semblance of order when we assemble what we see into concept or poetry. The only possible hope of "truth" in art is personal truth, the communication of personal detail. Herzog is, then, massively "true" as a documentarian, because he has never failed to document his POV purely.
Werner Herzog do not divide his films into documentaries or feature films. He just call them all 'films'. And I think it's a big mistake trying to label him or the personalities in his films as 'mad'. I do really think he tells stories from mostly common people, just with a little twist. If they where really 'mad' we could not relate to them. But Herzog is as a great filmmaker occupied with 'things that just seem ordinary, but are not'. That's why we like them and understand them as human beings, because we always can find a little of ourself within the persons in his films. He is not in it for the money but as an artist being he try to open our eyes and dare to ask the questions and story behind the lines. I respect him as a filmmaker but think his is much more like a genuine philosopher like Goethe for example.
Another filmation that further brings to light Herzog's questionable madness is the 22-minute documentery WERNER HERZOG EATS HIS SHOE by Les Blank. In the film, Herzog talks about a bet he made with then-aspiring filmmaker Errol Morris that if he made the film he always so passionately talked about then he would eat his own shoe. Morris went through with it and ended up with the universally renowned GATES OF HEAVEN. WERNER HERZOG EATS HIS SHOE then continues as expected with Herzog taking off his shoe, setting it in boiling water, adding some superfluous garnishes, and taking bites out of it between musings on film, art, and life.
Is he mad, or is he just a guy that doesn't go back on his word?
Mr. Ebert's blog entry began with the observation that Werner Herzog's film are often hybrids and, in a sense, autobiographical because without his presence they wouldn't exist. There's an interesting interview with Mr. Herzog (you can find it on wernerherzog.com or by searching for "henry rollins and werner herzog" on youtube) in which he speaks briefly about his approach to making documentaries.
If I understand him correctly, he says that presenting the bare facts does not add up to truth (or at least not the "illuminating, ecstatic truth" that he seeks in his work), which is why in his documentaries he often tries to get around the conventions, rules, and norms associated with truth-telling on the big screen. For example, he doesn't shy away from staging and repeating shots in what is nominally presented as a reality-based documentary.
This helps me understand Mr. Ebert's insight and adds another interesting layer to watching a Werner Herzog documentary. And by the way, I get a strong vibe that Mr. Herzog has been deeply influenced by Nietzsche's philosophy.
Werner Herzog is so much more then a filmmaker. He's an adventurer, and an explorer. I love the man, and his work. Because of Werner Herzog, I've been able to see far corners of the world that I never would have ever glimpsed otherwise, and meet fascinating people that I never would have known even existed. I also know some of the risks he's taken over the years, and how he's put himself in harms way on many an occasion, in order to supply his audiences with a movie going experience that goes well above and beyond even the most critical cinemaphiles unrealistic expectations. Herzog is unique, and his films are timeless. It almost moves me to tears to think how much his films have enriched my life, and provided me with insights into the human condition that I had never even pondered previously.
Thanks for sharing your wonderful journeys with me Mr. Herzog,
Jason Crannell
P.S. I'm so curious as to whatever became of that cuckoo cuckoo clock in Count Dracula's castle, that was used in NOSFERATU THE VAMPYRE. I often wonder what happens to movie props, and that piece in particular, has always held an unexplainable fascination for me.
Kevin: -Gates of Heaven-, and its infinite compassion for its subjects, is absolutely integral for this film and -Grizzly Man-. -Encounters- even has an homage to Morris's film in the sequence in which the scientists play prog-rock outdoors.
I recall a slightly too-long take of Dorrington early on in -The White Diamond- that is like the sequence with the plumber. Dorrington has been enthusing about flying, going on and on, and the camera just keeps rolling until he runs out of energy.
David Epstein: documentary, whether photography or film, has from its inception been inflected with manipulation and fiction. As Ebert has discussed, Herzog's documentaries have openly embraced this flexibility in the genre by including fabricated details or sequences. This is a great interview with Dorrington in which he describes how some elements in -The White Diamond- were conceived beforehand, collaboratively.
http://thewernerhrzogarchive.blogspot.com/2006/09/interview-with-graham-dorrington.html
Likewise, Herzog's fictional films derive a great deal of visual power from the documentary-- the fact that what you see has actually happened. Kinski really is on that raft, surrounded by monkeys. The ship is really being pulled up a mountain. Etc.
Christian Wright: it sounds like before you look for other directors "like" Herzog, you should finish watching Herzog, for example -Heart of Glass-, in which the entire cast was hypnotized throughout the filming.
You might also consider Wim Wenders, one of Herzog's contemporaries in the "German New Wave." In contrast to Herzog's remote locations, Wenders explored cities and travel networks in a series of excellent films from the 1970s through the early 1980s. This sequence from Wenders' exquisite documentary -Tokyo-Ga- finds a younger Herzog in Tokyo and illustrates the differences between the directors.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=rx3fvyWRQjE
Herzog's words here are consistent with -Encounters-, in which a series of underwater images are his impetus for going to Antarctica. The revisitation of these locations later in the film is a moment of cinematic rapture, just music and image. There are similar sequences in -The White Diamond- of the airship and the swifts. We have been talking mostly about the characters of Herzog's documentaries, but I wanted to note this equally important aspect of the director's career-long project: to provide new images to a culture drowning in repetition.
I must object to someone posting the name Tarantino in a list of worthy directors. Tarantino is a great plagiarist, with a mainly puerile audience. Nearly every part of a Tarantino movie that is celebrated by his fans, was copied from a movie not of Tarantino's making. The man has no ideas of his own and a teenage boy imagination, or lack thereof.
Hi Roger, I am sad to see the end of an era that actually added to my enjoyment of film.
Your insight and opinions, although usually opposite of mine, made me view any movie from more than just "my" perspective.
I will start to read your blog to continue to open new avenues for thought.
Best of luck and thank you, "you are my number one guy" possibly the only line Jack Palance may ever be remembered for.
G
His art is a pleasure, even when it is dark; he reminds me of Munch. He takes joy in the extremes. There is a scene in "Nosferatu" where I felt the vampire almost felt sorry for the young man because he wasn't a vampire, even though he suffers the usual vampire angst.
I was glad to have seen "Aguirre" before "Rescue Dawn". I love the scene where he picks up the monkey, alone on the raft. It's like Shakespeare but its also like watching a rock star, behaving insanely and erratically but with such charisma you side with his descent.
"Rescue Dawn" is my pet film of the moment. It gives a moment of contemplation at war and injustice at the beginning, with the slow motion dropping of bombs, then proceeds to tell a story built on experience and detail rather than concepts. Unlike "Apocalypse Now" it isn't a journey into the jungle and moral darkness but out of it. It has no delusions or war-lust. I find it hopeful, inspiring, reassuring.
Although not a four star film, Herzog's performance in "Incident at Lock Ness" was above four stars. I don't believe there is a director alive who could have pulled that part off with such serious hilarity. It was a shame the Oscars did not recognize him that year for this. But we know their disgraceful history of nominating actors and actresses in comedic roles. If you have not seen it, I highly recommend it.
Am I the only one who didn't like Encounters?
I mean, it wasn't bad. Certainly the underwater stuff is great, and Herzog's misanthropic voice-over is hilarious. But the ghost of Clara Peller was in my theater, asking repeatedly, "Where's the beef?"
Encounters is a picture in search of a subject. There's a name for a travel film with no subject: home movie. That's what you've got here.
And it's strange that WH would pull this stunt. He certainly knows better. Deiter, Silence and Darkness, Grizzly Man--all of them work because there's a fascinating person at the center of it all. When there's not, there's always Werner, the fail-safe omnipresent director. Remember him in front of the ski jump in Ecstasy of Woodcarver Steiner? Those were the best parts of the film.
With no person, there's no center. There's no center to Encounters.
Herzog's been quoted as saying that he could have taken over for Kinski and gotten in front of the camera on that run of films and I for one believe that. But even the great Werner Herzog cannot make a 2-hour picture with no subject.
Somewhere on some proverbial cutting room floor there's a terrific picture on McMurdo by Werner Herzog. I know this because I've seen all the other stuff in Encounters. Maybe I'll see it on DVD.
If I do, I hope the raw sound from the tape recording of Grizzly Man is included as a bonus track. "Watching someone listen" is another film sub-genre that (hopefully) will never catch on.
Mark, why on earth would you want to listen to the audio from that tape? I found fascinating the "watching someone listen" scene that you so lament, and am quite content to simply imagine what is on that tape rather than have to live with its aural memory.
The sounds of someone dying should never be included as a DVD bonus feature. The idea of that is as absurd as it is depressing. I hope you were being facetious.
Wow what a great little debate to wander into.
It's seems very natural for Encounters at the End of the World to be dedicated to Roger Ebert. I have followed their friendship since the days of Compuserve [I was fourteen!] and have Roger to thank for waking me up to the films of Werner Herzog before anybody knew who the heck Werner Herzog was. And by awake I mean AWAKE! Thank you both!
I don't think it is necessary to hear the audio of a man dying. I think by not allowing us to hear it, Werner Herzog allowed us to keep in mind Timothy Treadwell as he was and not leave us with the terror of his last minutes. Few people, particularly under such dire circumstances, die with grace. Allow Treadwell some dignity and privacy.
Mad men and women are infinitely more interesting than common folks, but sometimes madness is what bring us progress or masks genius.
I recall a small one-man play about Chester Carlson, who I am sure Herzog will never make a movie about. He changed the world. There are plays about scientist who tried but failed in their mad obsessions.
I was first introduced to Herzog while in a Mandarin Chinese immersion program and decided to escape to see the films shown by the German immersion program. Since that time, I've paid more attention to your reviews of his movies and as a nature lover had to see "Grizzly Man."
You know, I agree that Herzog was devoted to the extinction of humanity, but have you seen his bizarre little film "The Wild Blue Yonder," the last part of his quasi-documentary/sci-fi trilogy that began with "Fata Morgana" and continued with "Lessons of Darkness?" The key quandary in Herzog's films is that the chaotic nature of the universe is eventually going to wipe us out unless we find new images in which to engage our dreams. But after "The Wild Blue Yonder" (released a few years ago but rarely screened; I live in Juneau Alaska, and it was miraculously playing in a little indie-cinema, God bless 'em), I'm beginning to think that Herzog has gotten a little more optimistic about this assessment.
"The Wild Blue Yonder" is made up of four distinct and seemingly unrelated threads, mixing documentary/archive footage to tell a science fiction parable: Authentic images of astronauts floating quietly in their spacecrafts, later footage of the new planet where Earthlings are to relocate, called the “Wild Blue Yonder” (really the Antarctic Ocean), interviews with scientists explaining how space travel from galaxy to galaxy is mathematically feasible, and Dourif’s alien linking these documentary threads into its science fiction setting. Most of the film consists of the NASA footage, which are without dialogue and saturated with classical music scores, and the interviews/narrative sandwiched in between provide the storyline on which we meditate while we watch the extensive footage. Herzog explores two new jungles in the film: outer space and the deep sea, and he again uses them to reveal how man is inescapable from the chaos and hostility that makes up the entire universe.
Those of us who have followed Herzog’s filmography nod to ourselves when these motifs and ideas appear, yet unlike many of his bleakest bodies of work, "The Wild Blue Yonder" contains one of the most significant developments in Herzog’s universe: One of the interviewed scientists confesses that chaos is indeed the common denominator in the universe (an almost verbatim quote from Herzog’s "Grizzly Man"), but then he cheerfully points out (and I’m paraphrasing here sans the complicated science vocabulary used), “We are beginning to understand, though, that chaos is not a bad thing. It brings clarity. Eventually, as everything works together in chaos, harmony is created.”
This crucial dialogue becomes the light at the end of Herzog’s tunnel; it is his most optimistic observation since the final, victorious moments of "Fiztcarraldo", when the title character gives into his defeat and turns it into a sort of victory. "The Wild Blue Yonder" literalizes the same idea — just because “the common denominator of the universe is chaos, hostility, and murder” is not a reason to be defeated. The trick is to embrace our nature instead of trying to escape it, which is ultimately the sin of Herzog’s most infamous cast of characters, including Aguirre, Cobra Verde, the films of Bruno S., and obviously Timothy Treadwell. "The Wild Blue Yonder" reveals characters trapped in the same rut — scientists who try to escape their destruction instead of facing it — and it simultaneously provides a praise of chaos that comments on Herzog’s entire cinematic vision and offers an explanation of just why Herzog’s protagonists consistently fail.
How extraordinary, to think that Herzog includes a voice that seems to dance merrily along with chaos and human extinction instead of shaking its head sadly at it, which is the theme we find in "Lessons fo Darkness," "Where the Green Ants Dream," etc, where he seems to finally conclude that we're irreversibly doomed as a species. "Rescue Dawn" also contains a bizarre sort of optimism never before seen in any of his jungle epics: that a person can emerge still sane from the jungle instead of succumbing to Aguirre-like obsession or Cobre Verde-like rage. Then again, perhaps it's not optimism like I initially said, but rather Herzog (to paraphrase Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus) laughing because he has no more tears left to shed. But in his latest few films post "Grizzly Man," I can't help but think that perhaps Herzog is reaching a type of content resolution about our fate.
I just saw Encounters and came here to soak up more Herzog. Contrary to being without subject, as someone said above, the film is centered on Herzog himself, the filmmaker who asks the questions that many of us don't think to ask. The filmmaker who places us front and center in physical and metaphorical places that heretofore we knew only on the periphery, if at all. The genius of it all, is that he can predict our oblivion, but he can do it with such humor, humanity, and equanimity, we can accept our fate.
I will see the film again before it leaves our little local art house, because it was far to full for me to come near to absorbing in one sitting. But I also would like to read the narration. I wonder if there is any way I could get a script?
Whew.
quiles, herzog wasn't mocking the linguist at all. why you insist on this interpretation is perplexing--herzog himself responded directly and said you were WRONG. also, you claim that in herzog's recent documentaries he doesn't interrupt the speakers, but i'm pretty certain i recall a scene in grizzly man where herzog does exactly that while treadwell is going off on a hate-filled rant.
Hi,
I am a 22 years old girl, in love wth life, so I have many hobbies: going out with my girlfriend,practice some sports (rugby), go our in the evening to a discoteque, so all the things that girls like me do always. I also have a genuine passion for marijuana . It' a recent love but very deep.I like to stay home an
d burn it a lot. I hope that one day we will smoke all together. What do you think about it?
smack smack,
Carla
Ebert: A "very deep" love? You are playing with danger. Your body is telling you you are inclined toward addiction. A "strong affinity" for drugs and alcohol is invariably a warning sign. If you do not accept the message from your body, please remember this when you need to. Even now, today, attend a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous if only out of curiosity. Pick up the phone. There will be one very near you. Everybody in the room will have felt exactly as you feel.
I have only recently discovered the genius of Herzog, and cannot wait to discover every one of his old films and the ones he will make in the future. Simply one of the greatest directors who ever lived.
One day Mr. Herzog will pass from existence.
If i'm still alive i'll be depressed for a while.
A month or so back I decided to rent some of the movies you listed in Great Movies that I hadn’t seen before. That brought me to Aguirre, The Wrath of God. I was amazed, well, better put: I was spellbound. I remember thinking, does anyone really like this movie or is it that we just can’t stop watching it? Aguirre stayed with me for several weeks (I so love when that happens) and I immediately launched into Herzog’s filmography. Aguirre was also the first time I ever beheld Klaus Kinski. I say “beheld” because I have never been so overwhelmed by an actor’s screen presence, if you will, before. I have become familiar with the goings on of his and Herzog’s working relationship through My Best Fiend, Burden of Dreams, and by the commentaries on those and films like Fitzcarraldo (a film I just treasure) and Cobra Verde. At this point, I am awaiting the other two collaborations, Woyzeck and Nosferatu, the latter, I am sad to say, is not currently being released by Netflix and has been relegated to the other films gathering dust in my Saved queue.
I can’t tell you how much I relish Director’s commentary on a DVD. Until Herzog, Oliver Stone was my hands down favorite when it came to commentary. But Herzog is such a fascinating individual. His narration in Encounters was great but his commentary on that film was something else again. White Diamond, Grizzly Man, and Wheel of Time: these hours I have been spending with Herzog are just wonderful.
Let me get back to Klaus Kinski. I realize that this collaboration must have been a very trying one for all concerned on so many levels. Obviously, Kinski had, dare I say, issues and I can’t imagine life in his skin was a comfortable experience (I am currently trying diligently to find a copy of his autobiography that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg). Clearly, working with this man probably shortened Herzog’s life and five films together alone is a testament to Herzog’s dedication to the importance he placed on what happens on screen. In moments of sheer selfishness, I wish there had been more but, truly, I am thankful for every frame of work those two managed to create together.
Basically, this is a thank you note to you, Roger. I was given The Great Movies by a friend when I retired. It’s alphabetical and I have, again, had to put it down due to being sidetracked. I say, again, because I started in the “D’s”. You wouldn’t believe what happened after “La Dolce Vita”....
Ebert: Yes. I understand.
I love this post, and am cross-posting it under "recent Two Thumbs Up reviews."