Nosferatu the Vampyre (Werner Herzog, 1979)

Remaking an established, classic, staple of German expressionist cinema in 1979 must’ve been a tough sell. Werner Herzog’s Nosferatu the Vampyre, primarily a re-telling of F.W. Murnau’s silent masterpiece, is also a deeply eerie, unsettling and haunting film in its own right. Herzog is not averse to remakes, as he has proven recently with Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans. Unlike Bad Lieutenant, Herzog chose Nosferatu so he could play with Murnau’s story and expand upon minor-moments in his own unique manner. Combining elements from Browning’s Dracula and the original novel by Bram Stoker meant that Herzog could develop his work to potentially become the definitive story of the Count.

The standard story sets the film up. Jonathan Harker (Bruno Ganz) is an estate agent, sent by his boss Renfield (Roland Topor), to visit Count Dracula (Klaus Kinski) in Transylvania. Dracula is due to buy a house in Bremen and Harker needs to ensure he signs the deeds. Harker is hesitant at first as he does not want to leave his wife (intensely played by Isabelle Adjani) but decides to go anyway so that he can buy her a house. Arriving in Transylvania, he is warned of the demons that lurk in the castle but dismisses them as he doesn’t believe in such supernatural occurrences. Harker meets Dracula, a bald rat of a man with long white fangs for his front two teeth. In a moment of terror, Hawker cuts himself and Dracula, to help, sucks the blood. Harker’s locket falls free and Dracula is transfixed by the beauty of Harker’s wife, Lucy. The Count has claws and, as Harker sleeps, Dracula sucks his blood and soon after leaves Transylvania locking Harker in his castle so Dracula can have Lucy for himself.

As Dracula makes his way to Bremen, we begin to see the first of the white rats that will plague the city. Within simple, but sinister coffins full of soil of Transylvania, these rats will unleash a new misery on the town. On the ship itself, one-by-one, all human life ceases to exist and only Dracula arrives on the ship in Bremen. Harker does manage to break free from the castle and travels by horse through the vast landscapes. With decreasing energy and slowly moving closer to death, he returns to Bremen a gravely ill, shell of a man.

The lead performances by Ganz, Kinski and Adjani are complex. Rather than merely a heroic man, to save the day, Harker is conflicted and his decaying body brings with it darker demons that spoil his mind. Lucy, alternatively, will not give her love to Dracula – but she is willing to give her life. Dracula despises life and, though pained when faced with death, believes death is an escape from his morbid existence. Herzog holds steady a sinister pace with a deeply unsettling cold atmosphere. Shots linger for longer than they need to and the slow arm reaching across the room – a direct reference to Murnau’s masterpiece – continues for an awful amount of time. Will he reach out to get us in the audience? The expansion on the use of coffins and the plague is grotesque. In one sequence white rats infest the square and friends gather round a table celebrating their imminent death. One cut, and the family are gone as the rats eat the leftover food. There is no sharp, shock moment; there is no gore; there is just the knowledge of their dreadful deaths.

 

The vast landscapes, akin to Aguirre, Wrath of God, on widescreen is breath-taking. Horses chop across the muddy roads and a juxtaposition between the beauty in nature of Transylvania is against the horror that happens behind the closed doors of the castle. The story of infestation, blood-sucking and lust is timeless. Herzog’s interpretation is littered with meaning and subtext, purposefully challenging us as viewers to correlate the gothic themes to our own society. Though slow-paced and using a controlled, pastel-palette of colours, Herzog’s Nosferatu is surely the way adaptations should go. Respectfully self-aware and reverential to the original, Nosferatu is. But it also remains relevant and develops the story so that it holds its own, whether you have seen Murnau’s or not.

Aguirre, Wrath of God (Werner Herzog, 1972)

"The earth I pass will see me and tremble. But whoever follows me and the river, will win untold riches. But whoever deserts..."

Introduction

Werner Herzog in 2013 is something very different to Werner Herzog in 1972. Herzog in 2013 is the villain in Jack Reacher; director of surrealist-remake Bad Lieutenant; director of Grizzly Man. His unique, accented voice-over making him a figure of ridicule whilst a memoirs book by film critic Mark Kermode recounts a story whereby Herzog was shot during an interview and casually laughed it off - as Kermode feared for his life. In the early 1970's, Herzog was amongst the very-best of the New German Cinema movement, alongside Wim Wenders and Rainer Werner Fassbinder. But unlike Fassbinder and Wenders, Herzog created cinema that was "set neither in Germany, nor in the present, nor did it explore the emergent themes of gender politics or national identity" (The Story of Film, Mark Cousins). Herzog, and his contemporaries, were crucial in reviving German filmmaking for the first time artistically since the 1920s. Aguirre, Wrath of God is merely one example of these ground-breaking films ...

Spaniards speaking German

Spanish conquistadors, in 1560, try to find El Dorado. Led by Gonzalo Pizarro (Alejandro Repullés), we see  hundreds of men (and what appears to be two women), clad in half-armour and carrying canons, across dense forest and within deep valleys. The epic-scale of the lush landscapes and rocky cliff-faces is breathtaking - something complemented in this re-release by the BFI. The difficulty in travelling through the landscape takes its toll and Pizarro decides to send a smaller group ahead on rafts - in the hope of finding El Dorado "for God" (for Gold...). But Pizarro also decides to place the disliked Aguirre (Klaus Kinski) as second-in-command of the expedition despite the advice of others.

The film continues as Aguirre dominates the group and slowly, but surely, they seem to get lost further into the wilderness. The strange dynamic between the conquistadors and their Indian slaves is unsettling and the arrows that seem to kill those on the raft appear from nowhere - almost as if the surrounding forest is attacking the uninvited guests.

Kinski and Guns...

The core of the story is the madness that envelopes Aguirre and destroys those on the expedition. The acclaim Aguirre, Wrath of God received was partly through this metaphorical talking point that emerged, but less than five-years later, it became a crucial visual and thematic reference point for Francis Ford Coppola and his outstanding Apocalypse Now.

Famously, on set, Klaus Kinski and Werner Herzog argued to a point whereby Herzog pulled a gun on Kinski to force him to finish the film. Mark Cousins considers this an example of how the "physical feat and dangers of the production process became absorbed into the emotions that appeared on screen". In that regard, Aguirre, Wrath of God is an example of capturing the madness within the story - and within the primitive environment they were exposed to. Considering Herzog and Kinski continued to work together in the future - notably in Fitzcarraldo - it is an integral moment in both careers that is captured on screen.

Masterpiece

Geoff Andrew confidently describes Aguirre, Wrath of God as a "masterpiece ... [combining] a flair for the epic with moments of incisive miniaturist observation". His overwhelming praise for the film is difficult to decifer as a viewer in 2013 - and after Apocalypse Now, there is a preference between the two whereby the latter will surely overshadow the former. But it is worth reminding ourselves of the multiple further influences Aguirre, Wrath of God has had on others including Predator and The Blair Witch Project. In fact, any film that features the madness of man in the jungle or wilderness will owe a debt to Aguirre, Wrath of God. Then again, harking back to "Herzog 2013", his documentaries have often focused their attention on the same themes - Grizzly Man is Timothy Treadwell becoming so obsessed with nature that it becomes the death of him; Into the Abyss tackles prisoners on Death Row and such an animalistic world-view clearly runs parrallel to the jungle, as humans are bound to change in such a strange, contained environment. My own assumption that Herzog has changed dramatically may not be true at all - because the fight between man and nature - and the madness created by nature - continues to be shown in his latest films, indeed, throughout his entire career.

Grizzly Man (Werner Herzog, 2005)

"I will die for these animals, I will die for these animals, I will die for these animals. "

Introduction

How strange that days after I write about Man on Wire and how 'documentaries are not something I comment on too much' and yet, here we are, with another documentary. In fairness - this was made by esteemed filmmaker Werner Herzog and it is something of a cult classic. I watched this years ago when a friend of mine (shout out to Tom Wood) had a dodgy copy of it on DVD. I was staying at a different friends house at the time (Tom E) and, strangely enough, the more I thought about the death of the Grizzly Man and the thought of the audio Herzog hears as the Grizzly Man and his girlfriend are killed by Grizzly bears, the more tentative I was about sleeping. It really had an effect on me. Nevertheless, I don't know if TV is going through some 'classic documentary season', but I just managed to catch this on Channel 4 and, I must be brutally honest here, adverts do affect the watching of a documentary - stalling the story every 20 mins. Nevertheless, it won shed loads of awards - including the New York Film Critics Circle Award and the Alfred P. Sloan Prize - for the sensitive portrayal of the man at the centre of the Grizzly Bear tragedy: Timothy Treadwell

What I reckon ...

Now it is clear within a few minutes of watching this that Timothy Treadwell did indeed cross the line of Grizzly bears and humans. It's one thing to see the Grizzly's running amok on the 'plains' and in the 'Grizzly Maze' but when he starts touching their noses, or when the music stops showing a mother bear getting angry as Treadwell pets a the young baby bear - you can see how it was inevitably going to lead to his death. But the tragedy is not what pushes this film forward and keeps it entertaining (Treadwells death is discussed early on in the film opposed to some 'shock' ending.), it is Herzog's mastery over telling the story. Through his narration we not only get an insight into the facts and details of Treadwells life and passions, but we also hear Herzogs views on Treadwell and the footage captured by him over 5 years in Katmai National Park and Preserve, Alaska.

The documentary, to some extent, is discussing what is Timothy Treadwells true reason for his summers with the bears. As a filmmaker, Treadwell manages to capture beauty - the fox playing on the top of the tent and then sitting outside, Treadwell tracking the chase following the playing in the grass, etc. Its fascinating this footage of the foxes - 'Ghost' and 'Spirit' - and if it wasn't for the majesty of the Grizzly bears, this footage alone could show a fascinating insight into nature. As Herzog states himself, it really is warm and comforting to watch these playful animals amongst nature.

Interestingly enough, Herzog states his own opinion on things. On one level he agrees with Treadwells reason for capturing such beautiful footage on camera, while also stating how much he disagrees with Treadwell - as Treadwell pleads to the Gods for rain because the bears are 'eating their babies', Herzog knows that this is the nature of these animals and that this should be accepted and not looked upon as a heinous crime. This personal link Herzog has with the theme of this film is what pulls this film to a more important plain - there is no hidden truth or unexplained bias, Herzog states his opinion quite clearly, given you the opportunity to agree or disagree. Lets be honest, we all agree with him though.

One opinion he doesn't state is what he thinks of Treadwell's ex-girlfriend (opposed to the girlfriend who died alongside him). She is quietly reserved about her real personal connection to Treadwell - she was a girlfriend, she was an employee, etc - but did she like him? love him? did she fear when he was out in the summer? did she argue with him about the safety or the danger of he grizzly bears? or did she feel the same? We see her receiving the watch he wore - we even know how it was found, attached to a ripped-off arm, post bear-eating - and she wears it, amazed it still works. It simply feels like she perceives it as some sort of prize or something - I don't know how I'd feel if my ex-partner was eaten by a bear, but I feel that if I was given anything so attached to them I would simply break down - never having it captured on film and I sure as hell wouldn't wear the watch. Thats just me. Maybe she is a stronger woman.

Funnily enough, in a film rooted in archive footage we do have a few interesting film references. Notably when Treadwell wakes to find that, around his tent, are piles of rocks - one of which has a smiley face on (uh-oh, a wanring?). Two years after the release of The Blair Witch Project you would imagine he would get the reference but, alas, he does not. He even see's the message from the 'poachers' of 'see you next year' as some sort of threat - does it not just acknowledge his -and their - stance. As he will track and trace the Bears next year, they also will will track and do-what-they-do- next year. No 'warning', no threat - just a little joke.

The description of the final audio of both Timothy Treadwell and his girlfriend is referred to a fair few times - obviously it is exceptionally powerful, but it also explains to us how the situation was in highly moving detail. Treadwell being attacked first, while Amy tells the bear to 'go away!' standing loyal to Treadwell before being killed herself. Her death, many people - including people featured in the documentary - is the real tragedy. A woman who wasn't mad - crossing lines she knew she shouldn't cross. This woman even thought that Treadwell was "bent on self-destruction". Timothy Treadwell had demons in his closet - frustrations he vented through the camera akin to diary about the park itself and his trouble with women, etc. Amy did not want to appear on camera and was scared of the bears herself - is it possible that this choice to bring her along changed Treadwells composure and attitude - prompting the attack?

To close this (I need to write shorter reviews!), Treadwell regularly states throughout the documentary "I will die for these bears", and he was granted this wish. His final videos are clearly very eerie and, although he believes in his 'quest', you question whether he understood enough about himself and the bears, to want to fight against it so strongly.