"For me, the border between feature films and documentaries has always been blurred. 'Fitzcarraldo' is my best documentary and 'Little Dieter Needs to Fly' is my best fiction film. I don't make such a clear distinction between them -- they're all movies."
-- Werner Herzog, interview with Index Magazine, 2004
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"Aguirre, the Wrath of God" was the first Werner Herzog film I ever saw, back when it was released in the United States in 1977. It was one of the first films I ever reviewed, too (for my college newspaper, the University of Washington Daily). All I knew about Herzog at the time was what I'd read in an extraordinary profile by Jonathan Cott in the November 18, 1976, issue of Rolling Stone, which portrayed Herzog as a mad visionary in search of new images, not unlike the obsessed outsiders at the heart of his movies.
I couldn't stop staring at the haunting photograph that surrounded the article, from (as I recall) such films as "Signs of Life," "Even Dwarfs Started Small," "Aguirre," "Kaspar Hauser" and "Heart of Glass." They certainly didn't look quite like any movies I'd seen before. And essential to the spectacle was the knowledge that Herzog had gone to remote and exotic places in order to capture these images and bring them back into the cinema. They were unquestionably photographical realities (imagine Herzog speaking that phrase), not optical tricks created in post-production. The boat in the tree in "Aguirre" -- the one the feverish characters could no longer recognize as real -- was an actual boat in an actual tree, not a miniature or a matte painting. Even the photographic effects -- the time-lapse clouds flowing through the mountains like a river around boulders in "Kaspar Hauser" "Heart of Glass"; or the high-speed "ski-flying" (high-altitude, long-distance ski-jumping) footage that allowed Walter Steiner to float through the air in "The Great Ecstasy of the Sculptor Steiner" -- were actual recordings of real-world phenomena.
The overwhelming feeling I got from seeing "Aguirre" for the first time (at the tender age of 19) was that it was a film about a megalomaniac made by a megalomaniac. Certainly, as has been well-documented since, Herzog and Kinski were two sides of the same coin. "Aguirre" was their first film together and they made four more -- including "Fitzcarraldo" (1982) and "Cobra Verde" (1987), which again took them to remote and treacherous locations.
(Today, knowing what we know about Herzog's self-mythologizing quest for "poetic truth" rather than documentary realism -- including writing speeches and giving explicit direction to the "actors" in his documentaries -- I can't help but wonder how much of Herzog's and Kinski's on-set fireworks, as chronicled in "My Best Fiend," were deliberately staged for the cameras and shaped by narration.)
Above: From Les Blank's documentary "Burden of Dreams," about the making of "Fitzcarraldo." Blank's is by far the better movie, and in this clip you'll see why.
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As for "Aguirre," it struck me that the quests of the title character and the director are nearly identical, both men seeking to conquer the Peruvian jungle and find El Dorado, the bountiful source of elemental gold for one, cinematic gold for the other. In the movie, the Spaniards are defeated by the rain forest and their own greedy, imperialist and religious obsessions. But the film itself stands as testimony to Herzog's triumph over the landscape and its perils. Herzog's alter ego, Don Lope de Aguirre/Klaus Kinski, winds up defiantly alone on a spinning raft manned by masses of tiny monkeys, proclaiming dominion over history, biology and geography. But Herzog himself transcends the story and returns from the jungle, and the edge of madness, with a masterpiece.
"OK, it's a masterpiece, but does that mean I have to like it?"
That was my friend Julia Sweeney's reaction to re-watching "Aguirre" in preparation for the Cinema Interruptus session at the Conference on World Affairs (see "Shooting the rapids with Werner Herzog (Part 1)"). Of course, nobody is required to "like" any film, masterpiece or not, but I was a little taken aback because Julia and I had become close friends over "Aguirre" (and, particularly, Robert Altman's "Nashville") in college. She had a gorgeous framed poster of "Aguirre" that was prominently displayed every place she had lived for the past 30 years. And yet, five years ago, she had revisited the film and seen it through newly skeptical eyes.
OK, she said she felt while watching it again then, I get it already! "Aguirre" seemed to her belabored and obvious, a Hitlerian metaphor as heavy as the bulky cannons the Conquistadors are lugging over the mountains in the opening shots. I hadn't seen the film for a good 25 years, and I understood her exasperation, but I didn't think that was the most fruitful approach to this particular film, in which conventional modes of storytelling, structure, character, performance and thematic development -- while still present -- are subordinated to the rhythmic presentation of the images themselves. In other words, as I told Julia, "It's a trip movie." (As opposed to a Wim Wenders film, which would be a road movie.)
Above: Herzog's favorite shot in "Aguirre" is also mine: Haunting, heartbreaking, unforgettable.
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The reason I mention this is because Ramin Bahrani had guided us through the conclusion of "Aguirre" the previous day. We actually wrapped a day early! Julia and I were supposed to conclude the Interruptus on Thursday, but what were we going to talk about now? CWA has a policy of not canceling programs, so the burden (of dreams) was thrust upon us. ("OK, throw another obstacle at us," I said to CWA Director Jim Palmer.)
I thought it might be a good idea to illustrate two of my previously stated hypotheses -- 1) that Herzog's movies are often about the struggles of Herzog to make the movie you're watching ("Aguirre," "Fitzcarraldo," "Grizzly Man," "The White Diamond," and so on); and 2) that the character of the megalomaniacal film director played by Herzog himself is essential to framing our perceptions of the films themselves -- by screening one of my favorite Herzog documentary shorts, the 30-minute "La Soufrière: Waiting for an Inevitable Catastrophe" (1977).
Above: The opening shot of "La Soufrière" which, as Jim Palmer pointed out, bears some resemblance to the opening shot of "Aguirre, the Wrath of God," below.
When a volcano on Guadeloupe began to erupt and was expected to explode "with the force of five or six atomic bombs," the island of Basse-Terre was evacuated. Herzog, being Herzog, immediately chose to go there to see what he could see, film what he could film. In "La Soufrière," then, there is no fictionalized Kinski character to act as Herzog's on-screen reflection -- just Herzog himself, in front of and behind the lens, and two cameramen (including the great Ed Lachman, who went on to photograph such films as "Desperately Seeking Susan," "Less Than Zero," "Light Sleeper," "The Limey," "The Virgin Suicides," "Erin Brockovich," "Far From Heaven," "A Prairie Home Companion" and "I'm Not There"). This may be the most explicit example of the Herzog film that is about Herzog's quest to make the film. (At Roger Ebert's suggestion, we ended the final session with a spontaneous showing of 1974's "The Great Ecstasy of the Sculptor Steiner," which was on the same DVD of Herzog shorts.)
Above: Werner Herzog in "The Great Ecstasy of the Sculptor Steiner."
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And this is where Julia raised the "elephant in the room" question -- one I'd been asked in private by others: Isn't it bad enough, she said, that expeditions like this one used slave labor (though some slaves were paid) and put people's health and even their lives at risk without Herzog doing some of the same things centuries later for the sake of a low-budget film? The local Indians recruited to work on the film were paid -- and actors who performed exceptionally strenuous or dangerous tasks were rewarded with a kind of "hazard pay" -- but there wasn't a lot of money to go around in the $300,000 budget (especially when you consider that the opening shots alone involved more than 400 actors and extras).
Knowing that what you are seeing is "real" is essential to the experience of viewing "Aguirre" -- and so is the moral and ethical queasiness that comes with the territory. Herzog spoke of the "compact" between himself and his cast and crew, but how dangerous were the perils he described enduring, on-camera and off-, and how well did the participants understand them? These are fair questions -- even necessary ones -- and I don't know the answers.
Evidently, no one was sacrificed on the altar of art during the making of "Aguirre, the Wrath of God." Herzog did say, however, that Kinski fired a gun at a hut in which some extras were playing cards and blew off a man's finger. That's not the same thing as the "Twilight Zone: The Movie" helicopter accident that beheaded actor Vic Morrow, but it raises similar moral issues.
And what about the horse on the raft who bucks and kicks, falls down, and is pushed overboard into the river? Herzog said the first fall was induced with a sedative; Kinski was told to act as if he was striking the horse just as it fell. But as Julia observed, you know there was no SPCA monitoring aboard this raft floating down an Amazonian tributary in 1971.
Herzog had left a couple days earlier, but even if he had been asked these questions directly, you can never quite tell for sure how much he embellishes and exaggerates for the sake of a good story. For example, he said that his brother found the mummy above in Mexico and flew with it to Peru, strapping the preserved corpse into a seat on a commercial airliner, much to the consternation of the other passengers. Funny anecdote, but does anybody really believe an airline would allow a mummy a seat in coach? Forget about the overhead compartments, the fellow would have to be stowed as cargo (and he certainly wouldn't fit beneath the seat in front of you).
That's beside the point, though. It's part of the legend...
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P.S. Julia described her 33-year relationship with "Aguirre" as being like a love affair -- exciting and eye-opening at first, ripening into love, then separation and breakup. But after the experience of last week, she said, she's has learned to re-appreciate him. She just doesn't want to see him again.
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Les Blank's documentary "Burden of Dreams," about the making of "Fitzcarraldo." Blank's is by far the better movie...
May I ask why you feel Fitzcarraldo to be inferior to Blank's documentary, Burden of Dreams? Did you find Fitzcarraldo to be a poor movie, or is it simply that you find Burden of Dreams to be better the better film overall?
I'd say both. I was at the Telluride Film Festival the year "Fitzcarraldo" and "Burden of Dreams" premiered and I remember just about everyone I talked to feeling the same way. Herzog's movie was considered a big letdown, and Blank's a triumph. For one thing, I think Herzog is a more nuanced actor than Kinski, and a more fascinating character than Fitzcarraldo. And Les Blank got more "visionary" footage, and put it together more dramatically and hypnotically, than Herzog did. That shot of the ant with the parrot feather in the clip above should have been in Herzog's film. It's strange, beautiful, absurd -- and it's the whole movie in miniature.
I find it dishonest to refer to Herzog as a better actor than Kinski...even if Herzog is reciting speeches he's already thought up, he's doing so in his own voice, spontaneously, using words of his choosing, for a documentary; not as interactive, pre-written dialogue for a scene in a movie. Of course it's gonna come off more "nuanced."
I can't say which is the better film because I haven't seen "Burden of Dreams" (yet!), but I can say I wasn't let down by "Fitzcarraldo." Even if it's a bit too long, it had the rubber trees, and the boat going through the rapids (dunno if that was in the doc), and, of course, the climb up the hill. I find Kinski endlessly watchable. In the context of a fictional story it was all quite amazing...a lot more amazing than an ant carrying a feather. I get your point, but, knowing what we know about ants, I wouldn't say it's...even...close, to being the whole movie in miniature.
I'm not sure what you mean by "dishonest." We can honestly prefer one over the other, can't we? As for Herzog, he's appeared in scripted films by others, too -- and, of course, parts of his docs are also scripted, so that doesn't really apply. Both he and Kinski are outsized personalities, and that comes across no matter who they're playing. Each usually plays some version of himself, of course...
But you're comparing Herzog's "acting" in "Burden of Dreams," a documentary, to Kinski's acting in "Fitzcarraldo." I guess parts of "Burden of Dreams" could be scripted, like I said, I haven't seen it, but, I find that hard to believe considering Herzog was trying to make his own movie (if they are scripted I'd imagine it'd be in a looser, more improvisational way). I know you can argue Herzog non-scripted is a sort of acting in its own way, but you can argue that about literally anybody. It's just not the same thing as Kinski actually giving a performance in a movie (whether he's playing a "version of himself" is irrelevant), and I think it's unfair and kinda disrespectul to Kinski to compare them in this context.
Herzog, who says he doesn't make much of a distinction between his approach to fictional or documentary filmmaking, would disagree.
Was Herzog involved in the making of "Burden of Dreams" as anything more than its subject?
Anyway to me it's like saying Dieter Dengler is a more nuanced actor than Marlon Brando because he's more obviously a real person. Of course, Dengler was working with the advantage of actually having experienced what he was talking about. Same goes with Herzog. Kinski wasn't playing a version of himself, he was playing Herzog. When the cameras weren't rolling, Kinski was just another guy on Herzog's set. He had no power (which, I understand, led to some ego problems).
I guess I'll have to agree to disagree with you (and Herzog, by extension, I guess?), because I can't get around that what Kinski and Herzog were doing were - physically - two different things.
You write: "...because he's more obviously a real person..."
I don't see it that way at all. Both are real people, acting. How effective each is depends on the role, and his performance in that role, whether he's playing himself or another character, improvising or reciting memorized lines.
Indeed, performance is performance, especially if it's done to project something not-quite-true or conceal something all-too-true about oneself. Acting certainly doesn't have to be scripted. I wonder what Andrew would say about the acting in movies whose scenes are largely improvised, such as the work of Mike Leigh.
I think that Andrew probably believes that Herzog's performance in the documentary doesn't qualify as "acting" because he doesn't seem to be playing a character designated to him in a production intended to be some kind of fiction, whether that fiction is a dramatic reenactment or an outright fabricated story. But even granting that, I still have a difficult time trying to salvage his argument, because there are so many examples of what he must surely consider to be "true acting" that would rebut his every objection.
Leigh's scripts are hardly "improvised" by the time they get to filming, and anyway it's irrelevant, because the actors are improvising as characters, not "improvising as themselves."
I think I've been pretty clear that I don't think it's the same thing for a person to be "nuanced" in a fictional role as it is for them to be "nuanced," talking, in their own voice, about a situation they're currently experiencing or have experienced. Even if their words were thought up beforehand, what they're talking about brings out a physical response in them based on the memories they have, or the situation they're in, unlike an actor, who must create a physical response to something they haven't experienced.
Sure, but can we at least agree that a person improvising* as himself has a different (some would say less-demanding) task than someone who's reciting dialogue as a fictional character? Especially when it comes to communicating subtle "nuances," which, in the case of the person improvising as himself, isn't so hard, because these "nuances" are a part of their own personality, and, communicating them only requires...communication?
Is what Larry David does on "Curb" the same thing as, or even similar to, what, say, Philip Seymour Hoffman does in "Capote."? Would it be fair to compare them?
*I don't know where you draw the line between "improvising" and merely existing. You could say we're all "improvising as ourselves."
Jim, please forgive me for using the blog comments to send you a message (have tried hitting email link and it just prompts me to set up a new email account).
I don't know if you have written anything about the detention of Jafar Panahi but I'm writing to ask you to draw this appalling situation to the attention of your readers.
This Huffpo piece, which went up in the last 24 hours, is a good up-to-date primer on where things are that. And as you may be already aware, Cannes has symbolically invited Panahi onto the jury.
The Iranian regime should not be allowed to get away with incarcerating one of the world' most gifted filmmakers.
Thank you for listening,
Lynden Barber,
Sydney
Australia
I agree that "Burden of Dreams" is a superior film to "Fitzcarraldo", because it tells the incredible back story behind the movie itself: the tribal warriors, the deaths of the locals who were dragging the boat up and over the mountain, the many many problem encountered during filming, how Herzog had to replace Mick Jagger halfway through filming because of his tour conflicts. (I wonder if Jagger would have become a renowned actor if he had completed the film.) To what degree Blank fed Herzog's considerable ego, I do not know. Regardless, I have never forgotten the first time I saw "Burden of Dreams" in a film class in the mid-80's. That film has remained my benchmark for every documentary I have seen since. I recently posted a blog entry on Herzog.
It's clear that Herzog characters are a on-screen reflection of his persona (a perfect example of the auteur theory), but, does that mean that he has the same comtempt for human life than Aguirre? That anything is to be sacrificed for the sake of his mission? I have no idea, but I guess there's still a line between fiction and reality that separates Herzog the character and Herzog himself.
I see him as visionary, but not a reckless and irresponsible one. In order to do what he does, some risks have to be taken -dangerous ones-, and I'm pretty sure sometimes he dragged people along too far, but he's the first one to put himself to the limit.
It's not an easy thing to judge unless you've actually been there.
Was right what Kubrick did to Shelley Duvall during the shooting of "The Shining"? Or the way Lynch used Isabella Rossellini in "Blue Velvet"?
Matters of degrees, obviously. As far as I know, Herzog didn't order anyone actually shot or hanged or beheaded! But all those questions you raise should indeed be asked -- and different people will have different answers, depending on their values and their interpretations of the facts. (See Roger Ebert's one-star review of "Blue Velvet," for example! http://j.mp/dnSo1G And his follow-ups with Lynch http://j.mp/c7wBPC ; and Rossellini http://j.mp/bwrT1o )
Like in "The White Diamond," when he demands he ride on the contraption first before he can let his cameraman. Of course, that was for the movie...
Knowing that what you are seeing is "real" is essential to the experience of viewing "Aguirre"
Do you really think so? The first time I saw it, I knew next to nothing about it ... and it still struck me as a brilliant film. I'm not sure it really makes any sense to say that it's "essential", given that a great many folks see it without knowing that.
Knowing that it's real may or may not colour your perception of the film, but that strikes as quite inessential.
I'm talking about photography as opposed to special effects. You can see this film was shot on real locations, not on a soundstange. That's what I'm saying is essential to the experience.
I'm glad those questions were asked because those issues have always bothered me when watching some films.
The first time I remember that happened to me was with Buñuel's "Los Olvidados" (English title "The Young and the Damned", I think). Pedro, the main character is upset and grabs a stick and kills a chicken right in front of our eyes. Even worse: he maybe didn't kill it, just injured the poor animal! You know there are not any special effects on that shot.
Even though I know "Los Olvidados" is an important film, that injured/dead chicken does not allow me to fully embrace the movie.
Jeeem, I can see what Julia is saying: the skeleton (mummy?) of Aguirre is sort of obvious, a familiar theme of its era. But of course the movie lives, mise-en-scene-wise, in so many glorious ways beyond that.
I wrote something about Aguirre and Grizzly Man that gets into some of the things you're talking about, and looking at it just now I noticed it also glances across the distance/difference between Herzog the director and Aguirre the character. I offer it thusly: http://roberthorton.wordpress.com/2009/09/04/on-staring-into-the-camera-aguirre-and-bears/
That's a beautiful piece, Roberto. Thanks for reminding me.
I agree! It's a lovely essay and I'm glad I just found your blog, Robert.
I actually mentioned "Blue Velvet" because of Roger's review. Since I read it, I have been unable to enjoy the movie, though I believe it to be a sort of a masterpiece.
I don't have that problem with "The Shining", however. Maybe because the "wrong-doing" is not so explict; I doesn't jump at you like Rossellini's nude does.
Not only the movie's ethics should be looked upon, but also the means of accomplishing it; that's crystal clear. But the post raises a more interesting question -plus a very hard one to answer: Can you have the same consideration for a movie that, not being amoral, used wrong means (whatever you think is wrong, that is) for its completion? Is it right of you to enjoy it now that you know what you didn't?
The title of this post is very interesting. I remember Scorcese (my favorite director, living or otherwise) being interviewed about The Aviator. What first drew him to the script was the fact that he would get to recreate Hughes making Hell's Angels.
He spoke of the brilliance of the flying scenes in Hell's Angels, and said, almost jealously, "I mean, they lost five pilots making that movie." I hope we all agree that may have been too big a price. I'm not sure how Herzog would respond though. If Tim Treadwell were still alive, hanging with the Bears, would he be remotely interesting?
Nothing to do with Herzog, unless you count that the protagonist is attacked by bears, but I was wondering what you thought of the Spike Jonze-directed video for the new LCD Soundsystem single. As you're a big fan of long takes, and all.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qdRaf3-OEh4
Excellent article! I love to be a stickler, though, so I need to mention that the time-lapse footage you talk about is from Heart of Glass, not Kaspar Hauser.
Jim, what happened to my response to Fei? I see it in the "recent comments" section (it begins, "Leigh's scripts are hardly improvised..."), but not on the page itself.
It's there, as a reply right after Fei's comment: http://j.mp/bBTFWu
Thanks.
I watched "Aguire" once and I watched it instantly on Netflix. I felt the movie was very powerful but I wondered if its success owed more to its atmosphere and than to its storyline. To me the story was pretty lucid, litle by litle all the small party on the raft going on a mad expedition up river die and Aguire(a character who perhaps wasn't entirely sympathetic) is the only one left standing at the end.However,I think the acting,the manner it was filmed,The pacing and
the "choir organ" made it into something dreamlike and intense.
While I can't praise the movie as highly as others have done to the style being sturdier than the content.Yet,I think the film is something of an achievement for capturing the nightmare of being stranded on a river and having no way get back home and inevitably facing death.But I will watch it again to see if my opinions change.
I hope this isn't nitpicking but the line that stood out from your post was:
Knowing that what you are seeing is "real" is essential to the experience of viewing "Aguirre"
I have a habit of putting adjectives in quotation marks myself but now I realize this is a lazy habit. Those quotation marks are a short cut for the Humpty Dumpty definition of language: words mean what I want them to mean, no more and no less.
But your response to Richard Doyle who also questioned that particular line seems a trifle inadequate. I'll take location shooting over studio sets any day but does that really increase the "reality" factor? Is anybody stupid enough to think that we simpletons in the audience believe that the movie is "real" just because we're no longer sniggering at the lousy back-projetion?
I liked Aguirre when I saw it in my twenties. I'm approaching 50 now and when I saw it recently I still liked it. But I never thought it was "real". For one thing it's set in 1560 and no matter how realistic the locations are even an idiot like me knows they didn't have movie cameras back then. Doh!
Age does change one's opinions, though. Having watched a lot of 1950s Japanese movies recently I was surprised at how disappointed I was in those Kurosawa pictures I used to love. The Mizoguchi and Ozu pictures, on the other hand, stood up much better for me.
Off topic, but I can't contain myself. I recently watched Spalovač mrtvol (The Cremator)1968, directed by Juraj Herz. Best thing I've seen in ages.
Cheers,
Scanners Fanboy
Those quotation marks are there for good reason -- to make the very distinction you mention. The film is "real" in the sense that it was actually shot, on location, in the Peruvian jungle, and without post-production visual effects, and the images Herzog captured are essential to the film's impact. We are seeing actors and animals who are really doing the things we see them doing. It's obviously not "real" in the other silly ways you cite. The arrows don't really pierce people's flesh and nobody was actually beheaded (Doh!), but when the horse falls off the raft, we see the horse actually falling off the raft. It's not a digitally altered stunt shot in a tank on a studio backlot. Knowing that is vital to the experience of watching the picture -- and it's what Herzog prizes about his way of making films.
Those quotation marks are there for good reason -- to make the very distinction you mention. The film is "real" in the sense that it was actually shot, on location, in the Peruvian jungle, and without post-production visual effects, and the images Herzog captured are essential to the film's impact. We are seeing actors and animals who are really doing the things we see them doing. It's obviously not "real" in the other silly ways you cite. The arrows don't really pierce people's flesh and nobody was actually beheaded (Doh!), but when the horse falls off the raft, we see the horse actually falling off the raft. It's not a digitally altered stunt shot in a tank on a studio backlot. Knowing that is vital to the experience of watching the picture -- and it's what Herzog prizes about his way of making films.
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