Left Field Cinema

The Director: On-the-run film maker, with more than a touch of insanity, Herzog has made so much from so little over the years. His famously combustible relationship with actor Klaus Kinski lead to the production of two of the greatest films ever made, Aguirre: The Wrath of God, and Fitzcarraldo. The relationship is so interesting that Herzog managed to make an excellent and compelling documentary about the very subject with 1999’s My Best Fiend. Herzog is unconventional in both his production methods, and the films he produces. From his earlier documentary work, and experimental cinema; Fata Morgana saw the film maker and his crew capturing mirages on stock for several months in the blistering heat of the Sahara desert, accompanied by the music of Leonard Cohen this unorthodox film has meaning, but is as elusive as the man who envisioned it in the first instance. The controversial Even Dwarfs Started Small, featured a cast of Dwarfs going insane on an island and taking over the asylum; with little to no story, this somewhat typical of Herzog’s earlier work. His more famous an unflinching documentary Grizzly Man would later put him in the wider public eye and bring him to the attention of a new generation of cinema goers. However his major successes in cinema still remain his earlier Kinski collaborations. Starting with Aguirre, their insanity began, studying a doomed mission of the Conquistadors in South America; getting both cast and crew as close to nature as possible, the lines between reality and fiction start to break down; with the feeling of a documentary throughout, the story behind the cameras is almost as shocking as the one unravelling in front. Constantly threatening to kill one and other, the myth was that Herzog kept Kinski on set by aiming a rifle at him off camera every time they rolled cameras (this myth was to subsequently be dismissed by Herzog, but it remains one of the few exaggerations of one of the most hellish shoots ever embarked upon.) Aguirre remains an incredible film, with only its dark streak of humour keeping the audience from a complete submersion into Hell. Next came Nosferatu, a remake of the classic silent film, unusual music choices, and the surprising decision to shoot the film twice, once in English and once in German, gives Nosferatu its unusual edge. What gives its status as one of the greatest remakes is Kinski, his menacing features draws the audience to him through every scene he is present. Woyzeck is arguably the weakest of their films with a less than engaging story line, but even their weakest entry still has merit. The greatest Herzog and Kinski film is Fitzcarraldo, which featured Kinski playing against type, again in the Americas, this time given the enormous task of moving a three-hundred and forty ton steam ship through intense rapids and then over a mountain, rather than using models, forced perspectives or any other tricks available – Herzog actually did it. The end result is a satisfying conclusion made all the more sweet for knowing they actually achieved it in reality and in fiction. Later Kinski and Herzog would part ways after a final attempt to recapture their earlier magic with Cobre Verde, which is a solid film, however nothing compared to his earlier grittier work. Herzog is completely unique in the world of film, deliberately employing maniacs to perform for camera and often recklessly endangering the lives of those who work for him. No one else gets so close to such extreme subjects or physically pushes the lines of sanity so far.

The Film: Beyond the two more famous successes already discussed, Herzog has another truly excellent fiction film which doesn’t star Klaus Kinski. Produced in 1974 in between Aguirre and Fitzcarraldo this is The Enigma of Kasper Hauser. Using a non-professional actor Bruno S in the titular role, it is based on a true story about a grown man who has been locked up for all of his life with only himself for company and then is one day deposited in Nuremberg’s town centre in the early hours of the morning by his mysterious captor. The captor makes a swift exit and leaves Kasper to fend for himself as the population of the town awaken.

Herzog had instantly recognised the similarities between Kasper and Bruno, and this was the reason for his employment. Bruno was the unwanted child of a prostitute who’d been abused so severely he’d become temporarily deaf and then was placed in several mental institutions throughout his formative years. Herzog had seen a documentary about him and tracked him down for this project; their relationship was notoriously difficult as well. Although not as prolific or famous as his work with Kinski, Herzog would use Bruno again for his 1977’s Stroszek. Herzog was the only director willing to work with the man and to this day Bruno has only stared in these two features. Bruno is the heart of the film, he portrays Kasper vividly and effectively as a man dazed and utterly confused by this new world he’s found himself in. With his unusual speech pattern, child like facial expression and peculiar body language we see a man who is truly out of place in his new environment, he is totally consumed and bombarded by all this new information, and is almost a sociological equivalent of Frankenstein’s Monster. Bruno’s Kasper feels utterly genuine and if there were no other redeeming features to the film, his performance would make it worth seeing on its own.

But this is a Herzog film and there is almost always more than meets the eye. As was typical of the time, his visual style results from his sometimes confusing cinematic philosophy. Everything is produced so quickly that it rarely ever seems polished, often cuts are jarring and abrasive because of poor choices in camera angles, sometimes the shots are down-right boring, but this is a sacrifice Herzog has always been willing to make for both a feeling emotional truth and for production efficiency. In both areas, Herzog wouldn’t have it any other way as his cinema considers emotional truth and factual accuracy to be mutually exclusive concepts. For these films emotional truth can only be gained by living it, breathing it, by existing in the story, becoming one with it. In this sense it doesn’t matter if the shots are perfect, the pace snappy, or the continuity seamless. It is this aspect which often levitates Herzog above his contemporaries. It is frustratingly slow at times, the whole film feels like it could be tighter, but the audience’s frustration at its plodding and passive pace are linked to Kasper’s frustrations. With this in mind Kasper Hauser is an exercise in reception theory, this concept also then links into Herzog’s central philosophy for film.

Visually he is akin to a messy, rougher, edgier, less refined version of Terrance Malick, in The Enigma of Kasper Hauser we see some gorgeous imagery, which is all linked to Kasper’s understanding of his new universe. One stand-out shot involves Kasper watching his reflection distort and ripple in a barrel of water, more mesmerising than the best CGI money can buy. Herzog holds on this image and invokes a true feeling of the mysterious from something so common.

Viewers are often critical of Herzog for continually focusing on marginal or outsider roles within his films. He rebuked these claims, by pointing out that if the audience pays attention to Kasper Hauser, they will see that Kasper is the only man in Nuremberg who makes sense and the rest of the population are truly insane. As the films opening caption states: “Do you not then hear this horrible scream all around you that people usually call silence.” Kasper isn’t insane for hearing the scream; it’s everyone else for ignoring it. Even the films original title speaks to this, in Germany it is literally translated as: “Everyman for Himself, God Against Everyone” the German title is the actual title, the international title “The Enigma of Kasper Hauser” is the literal title, and why it was changed is as perplexing as the film itself.

The film takes a vicious turn in its last act, and becomes more confusing as an even more elusive enigma presents itself: who is attacking Kasper Hauser, and why? In this section Herzog presents us with his most distinctive imagery and detached scenes, which build up more of a sense, a gist, or feeling rather than a narrative. The picture successfully transforms itself from straight story-telling to montage cinema with in a seamless transition. Through this final series of events and some inspired choices in classical music he paints a picture of a world that truly belongs to him, perhaps the greatest enigma of them all.

M.Dawson