Wednesday, March 7, 2007

Werner Herzog’s Fitzcarraldo (1982)


Imagine, if you will, a giant boat. This boat is three stories tall, over three hundred feet long, and weighs 340 tons. It’s luxurious and a sight for almost everyone to see. Now imagine that same boat being pulled up a giant mountain, with no machinery whatsoever. Welcome to the world of Werner Herzog’s Fitzcarraldo.

Herzog’s Fritzcarraldo is one of those films like Apocalypse Now that works on two levels. On the first, it is a brilliant insight into the dreams of one man. On the second, it is a marvel to see how far a director will go to accomplish his vision. The film is a realist vision of an eccentric Irishman trying to accomplish the impossible. But beyond the film, director Werner Herzog demanded more out of his crew than any other director before him, pushing his crew to insanity, and thus making the film even better. The two stories go hand in hand: the film influenced the production, and visa versa.

The film begins with madness and continues throughout. We see a small boat with a dead motor, slowly pushing its way to an opera house in the middle of a small town on the Amazon River. The man on the boat is Brian Sweeny Fitzgerald (based on a real man), or as the natives call him, Fitzcarraldo (played by Klaus Kinski). Fitzcarraldo has one vision: build an opera house in the middle of the Amazon and have the great Italian singer Enrico Caruso star there opening night. But the only problem is that he cannot get to the place where the Opera shall be built. But Fitzcarraldo has a brilliant idea: carry his boat over a mountain from a river close to where the opera must be built and into another river.

The madness of such an idea makes for a brilliant film but something more amazing happened. Director Werner Herzog actually carried that boat over the mountain. The images of the boat climbing the mountain are both absurd and glorious. It’s almost impossible to understand what could drive a man to do that. But if it had been a plastic boat or special effects, this film would have no power. The spectacle is in the reality. Not only did Herzog carry this boat, but he did it in the heart of the Amazon with a crew of natives who spoke neither a word of English nor German (and were unfairly never paid).

Werner Herzog has been one of those directors whose ambitious expectations have become legend. Aguirre: The Wrath of God, telling the story of one man’s mad quest for El Dorado, also featured the story of man versus nature and was also shot in the middle of the jungle, miles away from civilization. Nosferatu, a remake of F.W. Murnau’s silent classic, explored the madness of the main character and was shot using Murnau’s original locations. This is ambition bordering on insanity, and Herzog has always explored madness whether as a director, a documentary filmmaker (Little Dieter Needs to Fly, Grizzly Man), or an actor in a documentary (Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe).

And the only actor who could complement Herzog was Klaus Kinski. Klaus and Werner went together like two best friends with PMS; put them together and they could either create magic or kill each other. (On the set of Aguirre, it is rumored Herzog pulled a gun on Kinski in order to make him finish a scene.) In Fitzcarraldo, Kinski pulled his soul and heart into the film. You can feel his pain at every mistake and his amazing joy at the successes. Originally, Jason Robards was cast (and Rolling Stone’s singer Mick Jagger as his captain). But Robards would have simply been playing a madman; Kinski is a madman. Kinski and Herzog made five films together, and despite the hatethat frequently erupted between the two, they formed a deep respect (as seen in Herzog’s My Best Fiend: Klaus Kinski).

Fitzcarraldo is a film that can only be appreciated when seen. It’s such a strong and ambitious experience that it’s almost impossible to deny its power. Whether you enjoy this film or not, you must respect the power of Herzog and Kinski.

Peter Labuza
Film Club Co-President