Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979) - A beautifully expressive meditation on humanity and its illusions of 'enlightenment'

What happened:
A town based real estate agent goes out into the wilderness to flog Count Dracula a house. In so doing, he allows this mythical figure of the pre-enlightened age into civilisation; plague and pestilence follows.

What I liked:
Animals: Animals are not only a fascinating Herzog signature, but they act as the most poignant symbols of nature, of the uncontrollable and of the real. Their presence - as comparison or as companion - seems to heighten Herzog’s emphasis on humanity. From the kittens in the beginning symbolising the innocence of their little quaint town life, to th sense of pestilence and corruption vividly invoked by the hordes of rats.
Locations: The location shooting adds weight to the film; that believability in these characters and in the gravitas of the plague’s devastation. These real locations (and characters, in the seeming use of real Gypsies) has a similar effect as the rats. Not much else could have convincingly portrayed the severity of the situation. As with Aguirre, the combination of surreal and realist techniques, rather than cancel or balance each other out, manage to amplify each other, taking all emotion from the surrealist aesthetic, but grounding it in the real. If Herzog wasn’t a genius, this would surely fail.
Lighting: The lighting when Dracula is on screen is emphatically low key and expressive. His shadow is often much more intimidating than his own figure; possibly saying that the fear and reputation of such a character can cause just as much harm - if not more - as he could himself. The scenes featuring only Jonathan, in comparison, have much higher key, natural lighting and is filmed with a realist aesthetic. Hardly expressive, though ironically in its own way expressing this character’s simplicity.
Dracula: When Dracula (Klaus Kinski) is onscreen is when the film is at its most compelling. He is a sad character, in many ways with much more humanity than the human protagonist, longing to just be dead, or to be loved. Every scene is set up beautifully; the pacing of the film dropped right down to heighten the suspense and to savour the beauty. The way the film’s aesthetic becomes so poetic and expressive when he is onscreen emphasises the mythic allure of this beast. Compare this to Jonathan, who should have been the protagonist, yet is difficult to spark any interest or latch onto. This is one of those things that Herzog likes to do to the viewer; to play games with them and play with their predetermined notions of character. If it hadn’t been for Lucy really growing into her own as the film went, then Dracula would have been the only engrossing character in the film.

Not so much:
Jonathan: I know that I just said above that it was one of Herzog’s ways of playing with the viewer; making the alleged antagonist so much more interesting. I don't mind disliking characters; I'm not someone who thinks I have to like a character in order for the narrative to work, but the problem here is that it was hard to get behind Lucy’s motivations. I could not buy into the fact that she loved him.

Themes:
Allegedly all knowing scientific man: It seemed to be saying that in order to deal with catastrophes as grand as the plague, mankind needs to create some kind of spiritual allegory in order to blame it on. Yet at the same time, and the overriding thing I came away with as it finished is quite that opposite; that the so called enlightened mankind of science is incessantly trying to push his explanations onto things. This reading seemed most clear, as the film made a concerted effort to have me feel for Lucy, the one who was most into this spiritual explanation. Further, the film really did take a mocking tone on the term ‘enlightened’, displaying the arrogance of mankind, thinking that it can label and categorise everything. The spiritual explanation can be read as parallel with art, and thus empathising with the spiritual over the scientific is similar to the way the expressive aesthetic drew me closer to Dracula than the realist aesthetic did to Jonathan.
Civilisation / wilderness: Expanding upon this, there was a real divide between the two, and the merging of them as the narrative progressed. Beginning with Jonathan’s journey to Transylvania, leaving civilisation, with its organised structures and concepts of commerce. When he reached the inn and spent the evening with the gypsies, he was between the two, but by the time he reached Dracula’s castle it truly was the wilderness; symbolic of the pre-enlightened phase possibly, as opposed to the current ‘enlightened century’ as professed by Van Helsing. Just as Jonathan passed into the wilderness, when he had Dracula sign the property deeds, thus indoctrinating him into society, it allowed him to wreak havoc upon civilisation. It was only after the transaction, this ‘contract’ - a staple of modernity and civilisation - that he set forth to unleash his pestilence. Almost as if making a deal with the past or with the wilderness is what allowed the downfall of civilisation.

Grizzly Man (2005) - Already fascinating footage, made infinitely better with Herzog's touch

Viewing Context:
Borrowed the DVD eons ago from my sister. Always been meaning to watch it and with Herzog’s 3D venture Cave of Forgotten Dreams coming up I decided it was time I saw one of his documentaries.

What Happened:
Timothy Treadwell is a fella who loves wildlife and isn’t right keen on people. So he decides to knock about with bears in the wild for the best part of every year. Inevitably, he is eaten by one. Werner Herzog creates this documentary out of Treadwell's footage, to capture who he was and why he lived the way he did.

What I liked:
Documentary of a documentary: I loved the multi-layered approach here, as the footage was taken from one mind (Treadwell) and pieced together by another (Herzog). This, for me, continues Herzog’s constantly playful approach to storytelling and adds depth that would possibly be absent in less competent hands.
Footage: The footage itself was breathtaking, getting right into the middle of this wildlife. Herzog gleefully remarks that this is the type of footage that is only possible from somebody as nuts as Treadwell and that no union crews would ever allow this level of danger.
Not sensationalist: Although it was a sensational subject and clearly had an element of spectacle to it (hence my comment about the footage above), the decision not to show the climactic 'eaten by bear’ scene just illustrates that it isn’t in existence to sensationally exploit this one event. The descriptions dotted about the narrative are harrowing and graphic enough without exploiting the matter.

Themes:
Society at large tries to impose generic notions of how to live: People have different comprehensions of things that others consider to be grounded general knowledge. Hence, many of the people spoken to here don't understand why Treadwell did this every year; they made no effort to see things from his angle. They imposed their own notion of how to live onto what he was doing. Only some saw that it was fine that he died out there with the bears; that by living the way he wanted to, and fully understanding the dangers, that he has lived more truthfully than most people do.
Find meaning: In order to overcome some personal shit, you have to find meaning; what is your purpose in life? If you have this then you are happy, fulfilled even.

Scene of the film:
Bear fight: The fight clearly displayed the brutality of this bear-world. The reaction of Treadwell immediately after perfectly captures his love for them and their way of life. His enthusiasm in scenes like this are the kinds of things that lead, for me, to the justification of him living his life this way and why him dying out there is fine. This was his life, being lived the way he wanted it.

Aguirre, Wrath of God (1972) (Masterpiece)- A perfectly surreal approach to a realist aesthetic

Viewing Context:
LoveFilm. Been meaning to catch up on Herzog for some time now, so put the Kinski box-set on high priority and this film was the first to arrive.

Creators:
Written and directed by the man himself Werner Herzog, who is at the minute, one of my favourite people in the world.

What happened:
In 1560 an expedition under the banner of Spain set out to find the mythical land of El Dorado; a place with alleged untold riches. After the hundreds in the initial expedition become bogged down in the extraneous conditions, a smaller party are sent ahead to scout for any signs. When the fella who’s appointed leader of this smaller party says that they must turn back, the scheming and tyrannical Aguirre (Klaus Kinski) leads a mutiny, appoints a new emperor (that he can control) and has the party write a letter addressed to the king of Spain, declaring that they are no longer under the flag of Spain but have declared themselves the new empire of El Dorado.

What I liked:
Animals: The use of real animals throughout the narrative is unparalleled in any other film I have seen. By featuring these untrained animals (well maybe the horses were, but I don't think the rat monkey things had any lessons) the film emphasises its grounding in reality (despite its simultaneous absurdity - see below). There is something about these animals that emphasises the unpredictability of nature and represents genuine intention; a certain rawness that is absent in most mainstream cinema.
Real, yet nuts: Even from the start, they had all this period gear on, but none of the camera work either tried to glamorise it, yet nor did it ‘try’ make it look authentically of that period. I felt it strange that this paradox existed in my head: the fact that because there were no gimmicks influencing me to naturalise what I was seeing, my film-conditioned brain saw it as less natural, yet being aware of this then made it more natural. Hopefully this confusing sentence makes perfectly clear what I mean about it being simultaneously realist and surrealist. The realist aesthetic and the use of animals grounds it as authentic in a way that had me convinced these were characters to take seriously. However, In complete contrast, the film mocks its own form with some outrageously surreal moments. For instance, a man continuing to count after having been decapitated. This is an extension of the way I feel Herzog constantly mocks the viewer, in a playful way, provoking reaction and demanding constant attention.
Exotic: despite intentionally poking fun at, and challenging its status as a realistic representation, I felt like it really was showing me something exotic, new and different without being so condescending as to say that it is showing the truth - as documentaries so frequently do. The pseudo-documentary approach to the location shooting on the Amazon, along with use of local peoples, and again the animals certainly aided this.

Themes:
Pointlessness of empire: The silly rituals and the insistence of sticking to them. I.e. The trial, and the hanging, etc. At one point, while travelling along the river, the farcically newly appointed emperor of El Dorado just said “anything on the left and the right is now ours”, showing how ludicrously senseless and phony this process of Empire building is.
The realist/surrealist combination exists to accentuate this pointlessness as it makes half of it seem like a farce, while still making it clear that so many people take this ridiculous charade seriously. It may be set in the 17th century, but this farcical upkeep of traditions is evident now. Hence, the idiotic existence of that pointless monarchy of ours; so clearly a joke, but people take them so seriously (just see last week's hyperreal bullshit wedding and the attention it garnered).

Performance of the film:
Klaus Kinski as Aguirre. He is so twisted, unstable, edgy. He encapsulates what I outline above, managing to be believably real and completely original while still being an over the top caricature of a tyrant, hellbent on power and glory.

Scene of the film:
The scene when Aguirre calls the mutiny and pulls all the strings, appointing some hapless puppet as emperor and just controls the whole thing. The official procedure was one of the things illustrating the pointlessness of these institutions and traditions, yet that they are taken so seriously.

17th Bradford International Film Festival: A trilogy of photography documentaries (with some Herzog thrown in for good measure)

(Temporary home for my Film&Festivals magazine coverage until the new website is up. Please feel free to agree, disagree or anything in between in the comments)



The first few days of the week may as well have been called the Neil Young International Film Festival considering the films I had chosen to see. I didn't realise when booking my tickets that these films were pretty much all programmed by - and subsequently introduced by – Neil Young, the festival's international consultant. I learned during last year's BIFF that anything with his name on would satisfy my need for thought provoking films and new cinematic experiences. One of the films that he introduced last year was one that has stayed with me the longest, Gytis Luksas’ Lithuanian DUBURYS (VORTEX).

Over days six through eight there have been a few themes arising, so rather than give the usual bi-daily(ish) update, it seems appropriate to deviate slightly and group films thematically. The most comprehensive and cohesive trend was a trilogy of documentaries looking at photography, with varying styles and to varying effect. I have mischievously also then tacked on Werner Herzog's CAVE OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS, tenuously linking cave paintings to a Paleolithic form of photography (clutching at straws maybe).


These three films all deal with national identity, but from an outsider’s perspective. DISFARMER: A PORTRAIT OF AMERICA (Martin Lavut) and AN AMERICAN JOURNEY (AJ) (Philippe Séclier) were both, as their titles may suggest, dealing with notions of America and Americanness and were screened as a double bill as part of the always fascinating Uncharted States of America strand, despite neither being American produced (DISFARMER is Canadian and AJ is French). The third (I will declare now is easily my favourite of the lot), TRACES OF A DIARY is directed by the Portuguese Marco Martins and André Principe and is a journey through Japan via many contemporary Japanese photographers. I guess it goes without saying that CAVE OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS is also seen from a cultural outsider's perspective considering the cave paintings featured were painted something like 30,000 years ago.


DISFARMER charts the discovery and subsequent fame (way after his own death) of Mike Disfarmer (born Micahel Meyers) and his ability to capture the natural state of his photographic subjects. He was a real outsider within the Arkansas farming town of Heber Springs in which he lived. Therefore the film was not only an outsider's perspective in the sense that it was Canadian produced, but this notion ran throughout the whole narrative; from Disfarmer himself being an outsider within the society, but more importantly, by dealing with the fascination and potential problems of cultural outsiders assessing art created within a particular society. There seemed to be two different Americas that gave their impressions of Disfarmer. There were those inside the society in which the photography was produced and there were the art collectors, or the artistic elite; outsiders looking in and imposing their own views on this society and Disfarmer's depiction of it.


Through this dichotomy of opinions between those within and those outside of this society, the film framed a nice debate about the nature of art and the subjectivity of its meaning. It furthered this position by raising a familiar issue that plagues the notion of art, which is the hypocrisy of the commoditisation of art and what this means for its cultural value. What becomes more desirable, seeing this fascinating and insightful body of work, or hoarding original prints and negatives for vast amounts of money? It isn't only critical of the outside art world for this, but the way the same principle existed within the society. The film showed how everyone, once they had been informed of the value of these photos, suddenly paid attention to them, and suddenly had a story about their encounters with Disfarmer; even though, as someone in the film alludes to, all their stories fit within the narrow mythological representation that had been created of him through this very process.


In the early parts of the film, I was a little annoyed at the art critics constantly telling me what to think and how to feel about these pictures, rather than giving me space to think about them. Yet, after getting the impression that it was specifically dealing with this issue; that this was more the point of this film than the beautiful pictures themselves, then I realised that it made a poignant statement on art itself whilst making me aware of this great artist. The pictures really are captivating and I see precisely why they have stirred such interest in the art world.



I will come back to AJ after I say a few things about TRACES OF A DIARY. In many ways, it was the antithesis of DISFARMER. Not only was it instantly going to be different as the artists themselves were featured, whereas Disfarmer is long since deceased, but there were no constantly reoccurring talking heads and there were no art critics and collectors telling me what to think and how to feel. I completely concur with what Neil Young referred to in his intro as the ‘documentarian’s dilemma’; that documentaries that are dealing with art need to decide whether to take the straight and easy talking head route, or take the bold route and create an expressive piece of art themselves. Both forms have their merit, but the filmmakers here have certainly taken the latter, the bold route; shooting the whole film on 16mm and capturing Japan from their own viewpoint as well as from the viewpoint of the photographers they featured. Not only could I be introduced to many photographers' work, but I could experience the film's own artistic identity as well. Nobody spoon-fed me what to think; rather, the film tidily introduced the film's subjectivity by going through a photography book in the opening scene, with the narrator going at lengths to concede that art is always subjective, always negotiated.

The whole film became a journey through, and exploration of Japan, traversing different regions and using the chronotopes of travel constantly - literally planes, trains and automobiles, with boats, bikes and all sorts else to boot. All the photographers had different styles and worked in different artistic, cultural and geographical areas. It was a little haunting actually to see a film about documenting Japan's national identity that was made prior to, but seen almost immediately after the tragic events of last month's earthquake. 


AJ was Philippe Séclier’s (French) tracing of photographer Robert Frank’s (Swiss) journey across America, creating his book The Americans. So thematically, with regard to cultural outsiders’ notions of a nation it sits fittingly with the other films discussed, although I cannot say it had the impact that either of the other two masterpieces did. It fell somewhere between; it spoon-fed me the filmmaker’s, and others’ thoughts on Frank, without really informing me much about him. It seemed a little self indulged and a little pointless. I must declare though that it did suffer from being part of a double bill with DISFARMER, as I was still so captivated by what I had seen; still soaking in everything I had witnessed that this film stood little chance of snapping me out of this thoughtful daze. At least I didn’t walk out, which a number of people did. I don’t see why though, it wasn’t in any way offensive, just a little insignificant after DISFARMER.

I won’t spend long on CAVE OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS, as it is in pretty wide release and the actual screening wasn’t something that was exclusive to BIFF; although it was a welcome coincidence for it to fall this week. Herzog has managed to gain access to the Chauvet Cave where in 1994, the oldest known cave paintings in the world were found, relatively undisturbed as they still are during the film’s making.

There is a degree of fuss being made about the film’s use of 3D. It must be said, this seems to come from the demographic that consider themselves too good to approve of other 3D cinema: ‘now this is what 3D was made for’ they will say. Well I remain of the same principal I did before; I have no problem with 3D, it doesn’t offend me, but nor do I think it is really necessary. If anything, it is even less necessary in an interesting Herzog documentary where the most compelling features are far removed from the gimmick of 3D and are actually in Herzog’s ability to draw out the raw nature of a subject and find the real humanity within. His voice persistently both amuses and enlightens and the way he draws the character out of the individuals that feature within the documentary has more dimensions than can be added by wearing some glasses. In fact, I still think 3D is better suited to gimmicky theme park ride-esque films, because they need a gimmick, this doesn’t. It detracted nothing from it and I was happy seeing it in 3D but wouldn’t have been missing anything had I not.

Twitter: @destroyapathy