Werner Herzog: Poetic genius or self-indulgent charlatan? Perhaps a quote from the man himself can shed some insight here, “film is not the art of scholars, but of illiterates." There is, perhaps, no filmmaker who engenders more debate about the vast body of his work. Well, no contemporary European filmmaker, anyway. To even begin to understand the man and his work, we need to look at where he came from and what shaped him.
Born Werner Stipetic on Sept. 5,1942 in Munich, he grew up on a farm in the Bavarian mountains and endured grinding poverty. He saw his first film at the age of 12, Tarzan, and has said that from the age of 14 he knew that he wanted to make films, and began submitting film ideas to producers. After his parents' divorce, Herzog and his mother moved to Munich where he attended High School (graduated in 1961). He produced and received prizes for two amateur shorts "Herakles" (1962) and "Spiel im Sand" (1964). Herzog studied history, literature and drama in Munich and Pittsburgh (on a Fullbright scholarship) but not for very long. He knew that he needed to see the world to develop his vision and refine his chosen craft. He travelled through what was then Yugoslavia and later Greece, worked in Manchester and was even, at one time a rodeo rider. In regards to the importance of travel to his work he has said, "Perhaps I seek certain utopian things, space for human honour and respect, landscapes not yet offended, planets that do not exist yet, dreamed landscapes. Very few people seek these images today."
Herzog’s films, as we shall see, are often fables of poverty of body and spirit, set in remote landscapes. His own childhood seems to have shaped much of his work, as childhood is another recurring theme. Shots of blowing trees, wild rivers and blank skies permeate his films. Loss and longing for redemption, often vague and undefined are much in evidence.
Shorts and small films make up the bulk of his work until 1972, when he teamed up with actor Klaus Kinski, with whom he and his mother had shared a house with in Munich after his parents’ divorce. He wrote and directed Aguirre, Wrath of God, casting Kinski in the title role. The film was not an immediate success, but it has come to be one of the defining films of Herzog’s career. Aguirre begins as the story of Spanish explorer Pizarro’s search for El Dorado, the fabled city of gold in the Peruvian Andes. His right hand man, Aguirre, mutinies against him when he decides to turn back after the way forward proves treacherous. The remainder of the story is a study of Aguirre’s descent into madness as he becomes more obsessed with finding the gold. This is yet another favourite theme of Herzog’s, obsession and longing for the unknown at any price. His casting of Klaus Kinski has long been considered a stroke of genius. Kinskis face was and still is a haunting image, and features prominently on the cover of the DVD. Herzog went on to use Kinski in four more of his films despite Kinskis reputation for bizarre behaviour on and off the set. In an interview, Herzog had this to say about his favourite leading man, "Kinski had screaming, hysterical tantrums, every grey hair I have on my head I call ‘Kinski’. My crew called him pestilence, but I told them, don't you think he has a magnificent presence? When the film is over [the tantrums] do not matter." Kinski died in 1991 and Herzog made a documentary, My Best Fiend, (1999) (a fine example of Herzog’s sense of humour) about their decades of collaboration. It is a testament to human extremity and endurance and rivalled the best of their work together. Herzog later said, "I had to domesticate the wild beast."
This proclivity for prioritising in ways others can neither conceive nor understand is standard behaviour for Herzog. His methods and reasoning have often left his cast and crew scratching their heads and wondering what they had gotten themselves into. An example of this is his 1982 film Fitzcarraldo, which was later the subject of documentary maker Les Blank's film Burden of Dreams (1982). This was Herzog’s most challenging project. Everything that could go wrong did. The film was originally cast and shot with actor Jason Robards and Mick Jagger in the lead roles, but Robards became seriously ill and Jagger had to leave for a previous commitment, meaning that a year’s worth of filming had to be scrapped. Herzog turned to his old friend Kinski and synthesised the two roles into one. The film was shot in the Peruvian jungle, as was Aguirre, Wrath of God, so Herzog was reluctant to cast his friend in the film originally because he feared he would go bonkers being cooped up in the jungle again. Herzog's fears were well founded. Once shooting resumed with Kinski in the lead role, Kinski flew into daily rages. Much of Herzog's time was devoted to holding Kinski together. Kinski became so difficult to work with that an Indian chief (who had a small role in the movie) went to Herzog and offered to murder Kinski. The Indians hated him. They weren't used to people ranting and raving at the slightest provocation. The film is the story of a man obsessed with the idea of building an opera house in the middle of the jungle. Herzog insisted on not using camera tricks and special effects, so everything was done exactly as seen in the film, including a scene of a ship crashing against the rocks in a river, which resulted in the cinematographer’s hand being split open. So maddening was the making of the film that during the making of it Herzog was quoted as saying "I shouldn't make movies anymore. I should go to a lunatic asylum.” The film won Best Direction at the Cannes Film Festival. Another example of his unorthodox ways was his insistence on hypnotizing the cast of Heart of Glass (1976), to create the effect he desired. The film is the story of 19th-century Bavarian villagers who have lost their collective vision, cast adrift and descending into madness.
One of Herzog’s best known films, also starring Kinski, is Nosferatu, Phantom of the Night (1999). This is a colour remake of the silent F.W. Murnau 1922 classic. Herzog had less trouble with Kinski on this film than any other, primarily because it took four hours to do the makeup, and Kinski was acutely aware that his tantrums would undo the work and it would have to start over. Herzog paid large tribute to Murnau with this film. Always in awe of the German New Wave directors, whom he felt he owed much to, this film was made less with the Dracula legend in mind than the tone and style of the Murnau film. He wanted to pay tribute, and once again, his casting of Kinski was brilliant. Through all the makeup Kinski was able to convey the tortured angst of a creature who longed for nothing more than to return to a mortal existence.
One more film that bears mentioning here is The Mystery of Kaspar Hauser (1975). Based on the true story of a man known as Bruno S., it is the tale of a young man who turns up out of nowhere in Nuremburg. For the next five years, he was a source of wonder and, perhaps, fear to the intelligentsia. Who was he? Where had he come from? Why had he been deprived of a normal existence his entire life? Was he descended from Royalty? His murder in 1833 only intensified the riddle. Artists and scholars continue to study Kaspar Hauser to the present day. Bruno cannot speak, and has no memory. He became a freak show attraction. This is the stuff that Herzog thrives on, and it was a natural for him. Herzog seems to have been drawn to the story because he identified with it so readily.
Werner Herzog’s cinematic vision is unique, to be sure. His emphasis on location and emotion over plot development has exasperated many, but he remains true his convictions. In his own words, ".So, you have to be daring to do things like this, because the world is not easily accepting of filmmaking. There will always be some sort of an obstacle, and the worst of all obstacles is the spirit of bureaucracy. You have to find your way to battle bureaucracy. You have to outsmart it, to outgut it, to outnumber it, to outfilm them -- that's what you have to do."
