Crafting Control over God: A Vision of Werner Herzog as an Auteur
SJG
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| Werner Herzog (shown on the left) and his best friend/arch-nemesis, Klaus Kinski (shown on the right). |
Werner Herzog (born Werner H. Stipetic) is, in his mind, his own favorite mythological character. His story is that of a megalomaniac filmmaker from the middle of nowhere in Sachrang, Germany, who has gone on to establish his status as an all-around oddball who creates strange and complex movies. Despite being very Bavarian, eccentricity has become practically part of his moniker. He has created a larger-than-life character out of himself, performing as the person that he actually is--making his films about him, by him, for him. Objectivity is hardly ever part of his intended goal in making a documentary. Facts, Herzog claims, are “boring.”
He admittedly makes films that are blatantly representative of his interpretation of the world. He possesses a kind of narcissistic persona that can not help but be a central part of his artistic focus. Yet his extreme form of ‘performative documentary’ also makes him a prime candidate for status as an auteur. The notion of ‘performative documentaries’ has been defined in part as: “…films wherein the filmmaker positions his or herself centrally to the narrative or argument (see…Werner Herzog in Grizzly Man (2005), who comes across as ‘author’ of both the film and video-diarist/performer Timothy Treadwell’s legacy).” (Saunders, p. 31)
Werner Herzog makes the films that Werner Herzog wants to make, how he wants to make them. This results in an inherently unusual personally stylized body of films, of which Herzog has now made over fifty. In part this abnormal amount of ‘authenticity’ is possible due to his not working with major production companies, but instead establishing a name as a diehard independent filmmaker. Indeed a good chunk of his persona involves the denouncement of major studio production companies and its correlate, the importance of recognition within the mainstream.
Sarris requires above all else that an auteur’s body of work have “interior meaning” which he described as the “…tension between a director’s personality and his material…,” and that Werner Herzog has got--in spades. His existence is nothing more than his own reality--his creations are merely an extension of himself; each just a piece, a part of a much bigger picture: Herzog’s ever-evolving identity.
"It takes a certain kind of director to drag a boat over a mountain. It takes a certain kind of director to threaten to shoot his leading man. It takes a certain kind of director to eat grubs as an act of solidarity with his cast, or leap into a field of giant cacti, or release 10,000 rats in a city, and dye them black, and 'forget' to take them back, and a certain kind of director to be shot during an interview and continue unfazed. What it takes is Werner Herzog: auteur, dreamer, poet of the screen and the man François Truffaut once described as the most important film director alive." (Patterson, p.1)
Werner Herzog as a director epitomizes the new German cinema style. As an auteur, he is nothing short of a pioneer. As a man, he is nothing short of an individual. His methods make for nothing short of iconic films; most of which happen to be documentaries. So then comes the question: what is ‘signature’ Herzog? What does it look like, what does it sound like? How can I know that a film is his?
First and foremost, what comes to mind when thinking of Herzog’s films is Herzog’s voice. His unmistakable German accent and low, steady, monotone, voice-over style narration is notoriously linked to documentary making in the modern day. Recently, he lent his voice and identity to the edgy animated television show The Boondocks for a season opening episode. The episode was structured as a ‘mockumentary’ featuring the main character of the show, Huey Freeman, as the subject of a documentary in the style of a Werner Herzog film.
On one hand he is an aged and accomplished member of the filmmaking community, but on the other hand he can laugh at the ‘monster’ that he has created over the years. His reputation has gained momentum both from his filmmaking as well as his extreme filming practices…he is well aware that at least part of his cult icon status can be attributed to the fact that he spent four years of his life dragging a steamboat over a mountain in the jungle. Indeed, such events hardly tend to go unnoticed. But Herzog argues adamantly that he always took every precaution and more importantly it was necessary for his film to be done right. He has a vision that is compromised for practically nothing…there is something endearing about his unwillingness to acknowledge any limitations as far as filmmaking goes. You will never hear Werner Herzog apologize for a film that he has created; it is apparent that he is deeply, emotionally invested in every single one. He lets his movies take a little part of him, sometimes quite literally, often physically and perhaps even psychologically.
Much like method-acting, Herzog immerses himself in to his subject matter with such fervor that he becomes an ‘inquiry in motion.’ By unflinchingly engaging depths of his own reality, the specific transcends in to the universal. Themes emerge that speak to the human experience at its most meaningful; a most artistically insightful sort of introspective analysis. Philosophical subtext runs amok--while conclusions and resolutions remain out of reach. Instead of dictating to his audience that they should walk away from his film with a specific point of view, he only asks that the viewer contemplates his or her own take on the tale that he has told. Herzog’s goal is not to convince but to inspire consideration, to facilitate deep, critical thought. While above all else, being entertained.
His words are his own, and often are presented as being so; positioning the ‘real world’ somewhere far removed from his films…removed from documentary itself. His interest in humanity, the environment, any given person--his subject matter--takes root in his interest in himself, resulting in profound implications. In this respect, regarding his film Grizzly Man: “Herzog contrasts Treadwell’s misguided sentimentalism with his [Herzog’s] own nihilism and belief in the inherent cruelty of nature; he matches Treadwell’s narcissism with his own and manages to make the bears look more dignified than any of the people in the film.” (Aufderheide, p. 122)
Still long periods of imagery accompanied by music are part of Herzog’s signature filmmaking technique. Images, in a Herzog film, are to be appreciated more than words. Music, he has said, can set the mood for a film, but it also has the ability to alter any imagery’s ultimate meaning. Which, of course, is what Herzog believes he does best. He makes films that are projections of how he sees the earth, of how humanity is fated to be aware of its existence and therefore disparate from the majority of life that inhabits it. He depicts us as the beings that attempt to but can not reconcile our way of life with that of nature’s; ultimately, we can not accept the kind of animal that we are--the thinking kind.
At one point in Herzog’s documentary film Lessons of Darkness (about the burning oil fields in Kuwait following the Gulf War), an aerial shot of a vast expanse of pooled oil is all one sees is the glossy ground as it glides by. It carries with it a hauntingly surreal, yet serene quality. The voice-over is that of Herzog describing how we what we are witnessing is oil ‘impersonating’ water--as though, somewhat ironically, the landscape was all the product of some natural occurrence. “He narrated the film himself in the persona of an alien arriving on earth for the first time. Why? Because he wanted us to look with fresh eyes at the insane human compulsion to destroy our planet.” (Grant) The landscape is held accountable, and still we the viewers know that this is not the case. Such dramatic imagery and stylistically poised pseudo-irony runs rampant through Herzog’s work.
This is because, documentary or not, what Herzog is after is a sort of subjective truth that he refers to as “the ecstatic truth.” To him:
"‘It is a deeper, more moving and mysterious truth than the truth of accountants. One can find it in music, poetry, literature, certain ancient myths. That is what attracted me to the story of Dieter Dengler. It has the qualities and structure of a Greek myth. Here is a man with a dream to fly, who falls to earth, goes through an odyssey of punishments and finds redemption.’" (Grant)
He regards himself as a filmmaker and an artist, but regardless the value of the content of his narration remains as memorable as any of his characters. “In his narrations of his nonfiction films...he has proven repeatedly that no one is better suited to marry Nietzschean anxiety and American transcendentalism, as he marvels at the beauty of nature while lamenting its supreme indifference.” (Hornaday)
His human subjects, or ‘characters,’ have often been criticized as being madmen with impossible dreams…when in actuality these stories simply exhibit the tragic results of the human condition; the effect behind the consequences of chaos. In his book, a collection of interviews with him titled Herzog on Herzog, it is written that:
"…all the characters in his films, fictional and non-fictional, belong to the same family of misfits and solitary rebels, struggling to retain their human dignity under increasingly difficult circumstances, ‘These people are not pathologically mad… It is the situations they find themselves in and the people who surround them who are mad.’" (Grant)
Interviews are often conducted with people in his films in their ‘natural habitat,’ lending a descriptive quality to the individual’s domestic environment. On-site shooting is essential to Herzog’s aesthetic. Such location filming including his work at the darkest, dankest corners of the earth reflect his seemingly limitless ambition as a filmmaker, as well as contributes to Herzog’s ability to cultivate a dreamlike quality that remains at the heart of many of his films. He seems to know…to show…that nothing tops mother-nature--no studio or special effects can do it better than the real thing.
The award winning film Grizzly Man in many ways exemplifies Werner Herzog’s status as a documentary filmmaking auteur. In it he has discovered a subject, a fellow ‘documentary filmmaker’ so to speak, named Timothy Treadwell who’s life story was not typical, especially its tragic ending. However, the attraction for Herzog is in Treadwell’s actual ability as a filmmaker. He makes remarks in defense of Timothy as a filmmaker, claiming within his footage there is evidence that he had the ability to capture improvised moments on film that are incomparable to anything Hollywood studios are capable of producing.
As shooting continued, Herzog gained further insight in to who Timothy Treadwell was and why he might have been the way that he was. In one part of Grizzly Man, he explicates his coming to know and understand the footage that Treadwell shot of himself in the Alaskan wilderness, stating: “I discovered a film of human ecstasies and darkest inner-turmoil. As if there was a desire in him [Treadwell] to leave the confinements of his humanness and bond with the bears. Treadwell reached out seeking a primordial encounter. But in doing so, he crossed an invisible borderline.” (Herzog) We witness Treadwell talking to the fauna of the forest as though they could possibly understand him, acting as if he were one of them, in his mind becoming a part of their world. Brief instances of footage make you want to believe that Treadwell is somehow right in spite of his overly idealistic, romanticized notion of the way the world works. Yet from early on in the film the viewer is made aware of the demise of Treadwell and his girlfriend; the inevitable had occurred and Treadwell was killed and consumed by the bears that he so desperately wanted to become one of, suddenly and without warning. Herzog identifies a kindred spirit in Treadwell, “…who had a natural tendency towards chaos…” (Herzog in Grizzly Man).
Nearing the end of the film, Herzog again takes a moment to relay to his viewer via voice-over the impression left on him by the life of Timothy Treadwell: “And what haunts me is that in all the faces of all the bears that Treadwell ever filmed, I discover no kinship, no understanding, no mercy, I see only the overwhelming indifference of nature.” In his own way, Herzog lamented his inability to see what Timothy saw in those creatures, what eventually he died for.
Herzog once said as a much younger man during a filmed interview deep in the bowels of the Peruvian jungle: “We challenge nature and it hits back…it is not that I hate the jungle, I love it. But I love it against my better judgment.” In his influence on experimental film and the new age of German cinema, he is influentially legendary; in the way that he lives his life, that is where he is truly the auteur.
Works Cited
Aufderheide, Patricia. Documentary Film: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford University Press. New York. 2007.
Grant, Richard. “Werner Herzog: chaos theory.” The Telegraph 03 Nov. 2007.
Grizzly Man. Dir. Werner Herzog. Perf. Timothy Treadwell, Werner Herzog. 2006.
Hornaday, Ann. “Web Hit ‘Plastic Bag’ Blows Into D.C. for Environmental Film Fest.” Washington Post 23 Apr. 2010.
Patterson, Christina. “Werner Herzog: ‘My films are certainly not art.’” The Independent 06 Feb. 2009.
Saunders, Dave. Documentary. Routledge Film Guidebooks. New York. 2010.
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