Francois Truffaut once said that Werner Herzog was the most important director alive.1 Indeed, in the realm of independent art house, few filmmakers are as respected, as influential, as dedicated, or as prolific as Herzog. Since the beginning of his career in the mid-60's, he has directed over 50 films, not counting his short films. For those unfamiliar with him, it may be difficult to find an entry point to his massive body of work. And while I'm not familiar with most of his other work either, I would like to take a moment here to talk about the film which introduced me to Herzog: his 1971 classic Aguirre, the Wrath of God. Aguirre was shot in the jungles of the Amazon on a shoestring budget, and although it was a box office failure in Herzog's home country of Germany, the film slowly became a success in other countries such as France, America, and Mexico, bringing the director to the attention of the international film scene. Since then, its beautiful scenery has inspired films like The Mission and Terrence Malick's The New World, while its narrative structure of a descent into the dark madness of nature can be seen in both Apocalypse Now and The Blair Witch Project.
When I first saw Aguirre I saw it as a kind of microcosm of society, in the same way that One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest stood as a representation for competing political structures. But reexamining it, I believe there's far more to it than that. This is a story about madness, powerful obsession, and the conflict between nature and civilization-- but rather than focusing on the film's themes, I want to talk about one key aspect of Aguirre as a film: specifically, its marvelous ability to immerse its audience in its eerie atmosphere. Because in some ways, Aguirre: The Wrath of God is scarier than many horror films I've seen-- which is saying something, considering 100% of it takes place in broad daylight. There are very few films which make me shiver just thinking about them, but this is certainly one of them. There's something about this movie which is haunting. This is a film which completely draws you in and doesn't let go. So what is it about Aguirre that makes it so entrancing?
First, let's begin with the historical context of the story that Herzog is telling. Lope de Aguirre, Pedro de Ursua, and Fernando de Guzman were all actual historical figures, although the movie has a highly stylized portrayal of all of them. In 16th century Peru, Ursua used the journey to El Dorado as a ruse to distract rebellious soldiers such as Aguirre-- however, Ursua's plan went afoul when Aguirre led a mutiny against him, appointing Guzman as leader and, later on, killing him and taking charge. The film follows this pattern of events fairly closely, except for what happens after that. In real life, Aguirre actually reached the Atlantic, presumably through the Orinoco river in Venezuela, gaining control over Margarita Island, where he was murdered by his own men. The film, however, portrays an Aguirre who is overwhelmed by the brutal forces of nature, dying alone, lost somewhere in the winding stretches of the Amazon.
And yet, even though Herzog's story diverges from the historical account by opting instead for a highly stylized narrative of deluded hubris, the entire film is shot "documentary-style". There are several things which stand out in this filming style: first, the raw look of the film itself-- unlike many other films of its time, Herzog doesn't correct things which draw attention to the camera's presence in the story, such as the lens flare caused by the sun, or the water splashing on the camera lens itself. Second, as in a documentary, the camera is often handheld-- the movements are not smooth and planned, but rather spontaneous and messy. "Here, it's if we had been there in 1561 with a camera, as witnesses..." Herzog explains.2 Lastly, and most importantly, there's the director's decision to film on location.
With just a small crew, a large team of actors and extras, a few wooden rafts, and a single stolen camera, Herzog captured the film, working chronologically with the flow of the story from the mountains of Peru to the central Amazon. So while Aguirre certainly has enough good material within the film to achieve indie fame on its own, the stories that have risen up surrounding the film's production have since become the stuff of legend among independent filmmakers, lending Aguirre an added mystical dimension to its status as a film. Every scene and every shot has a story behind it, and while this can be said for practically all films, few films have a background so steeped in dire straits and desperation. On the audio commentary for the film, Herzog describes numerous anecdotes from the film's production, but several struck me as particularly interesting: "And of course, as there was no money, we had shortcomings... we didn't have enough food, sometimes, so I had to sell my boots or my wristwatch just to get breakfast." Rumor has it that things got so tense during filming that Herzog had the actor held at gunpoint for the final scenes... Herzog debunks that myth, but the true story is no less fascinating: "I actually didn't pull a gun... I threatened I would shoot him. I was unarmed and he somehow in order to look better, reported as if I had drawn a gun at him, it was not like that, but I would have shot him, there was no doubt, and the bastard somehow understood that it was not a joke."3 Even the film's opening shot of the steps of Macchu Picchu, which signifies the characters' descent into the jungle's foreboding jaws, masks behind it a magnificent story of the cast's first day of shooting, where Herzog simultaneously realized the full burden of the project and the fortitude it would require to meet the task. "At an altitude of 14,000 feet, even the local upland natives became sick with vertigo," writes Brian Eggert of DeepFocusReview.com, "...while the actors braved these conditions wearing their heavy costume armor and Spanish conquistador dress... Herzog had to convince his people to keep going, to keep climbing higher and higher along a vertical drop of about 2,000 feet." Recalling the incident, Herzog has said, "It was on that day that I definitely came to know my destiny."4
Aguirre is not only an absorbing film, but as I've stressed earlier on, it's also a very haunting one. The film is structured perfectly in such a way that we're aware early on of the impending doom that awaits the story's heroes and from that moment on, it's just one discomforting scene after another. The most terrifying moment in the film for me comes towards the end, when one of the men points to a boat in a tree-- the other men say that he is hallucinating, because the floodwaters certainly could not have risen high enough to maroon a ship in that tree. We expect that he is hallucinating and that the story will move on, but then the camera shows us the boat, and for a film so grounded in realistic imagery, this possible venture into the territory of the mind completely throws us off guard. We placed in the same position as the dying soldier, questioning the reality of what we see, and thus we feel just as hopeless and delusional. The ending of the film hits us with such magnitude that we're overwhelmed by it, because we've travelled with the characters, and when they find themselves absolutely overpowered by the forces of nature, we're supposed to feel their terror. For the entire film, we've known that Aguirre is insane, but it is in this moment that the full extent of his bestial nature is revealed-- and the same goes for all of the other characters: the harsh nature of their circumstances exposes them for what they are: madmen who are only driven further into madness. In the final image, we see the boat overrun with spider monkeys like a maggot-infested corpse.
Yet beyond all of this, it remains that one of the eeriest things about Aguirre is the parallel between the mad passion of its antihero and the mad passion of Herzog himself during the film's shooting. In examining the background of this picture, we can see Herzog working in close proximity not only to the location of the story, but also, in a way, we see him working in close proximity to the themes and motives that push his protagonist forward, which, going by the film, is not a position you really want to be in. Let's go back for a moment and recall the question that I asked at the beginning, about what makes Aguirre so immersive. I believe that this ironic correlation between the director and the character that he was crafting provides the most satisfying answer: we are immersed in the story of Aguirre because every aspect of the film's construction was devoted to immersion in that story; we feel fear and frustration at the jungle because the jungle posed a real threat to the actors working there; and we feel as if we are on the raft because the cameras are actually on the raft, and not on some boat drifting along the side. Yes, other Hollywood classics such as King Solomon's Mines and The African Queen may have also been filmed on location but there's something about the spontaneity of Herzog's methods and his willingness to bring the audience uncomfortably close to the action in such a dirty and low-budget style that gives this film a more tactile quality-- you can feel textures in it. This director was confronted with numerous obstacles over the course of the filmmaking, yet he met them all while keeping his cool, finding some way to reshape the story around the mishap. Consider the following mishap, where he relates the story of how the Amazon River rose over a dozen feet overnight and how they dealt with it:
"What happens here is that all of the sudden, while we were shooting there, the river rose by fifteen or twenty feet, and all our location was gone. Everything was flooded; the rafts were gone, so I incorporated this event into the film, into the story of the film, and now the Spaniards' expedition does not know, should we continue, should we advance, should we build new rafts or should we return to the main bulk of the expedition and that creates a conflict now. So, whatever happened I tried to use for the advantage of the story."5
This answer, while it may satisfy the original question, in a way, raises a more difficult question for aspiring filmmakers: while the film condemns the furious perseverance its hero displays against impossible odds, the story of the making of the film seems to communicate the opposite message: that if you truly want to accomplish something great, you must meet the impossible odds with relentless determination. So which is it? I think that the most charitable answer would be to say that the film contains both messages, and here's why. Although I don't believe he's stated it openly, I think that Herzog was aware of this ideological conflict while making this film, and I believe the conflict is present in the movie. Aguirre isn't a good movie because Herzog molded himself to model the main character of his story, but rather, it's a good movie because he molded the main character of his story to model himself. On one level, Aguirre, the Wrath of God is an archetypal story about man's hopelessness in the face of the cruel uncaring forces of nature, and the destruction caused by the pride of a madman. However, on a deeper level, perhaps it is also about the burden that you're required to bear when you become a director, the kind of madness that you have to possess, and the possibility that everything could fall apart in catastrophe. I think it's worth noting that Herzog dedicated the film to the flute player, Hombrecito. Although he was eventually persuaded to join the cast and crew on their voyage, the flute player initially refused, believing that if he stopped playing the flute in the town square, the people of his village would die.6 Perhaps Herzog was so moved by this man's vision because he felt that he himself, and by extension, all artists, were in a similar position. We create art, not because we want to, but because we hold fast to the delusion that we need to; that against all odds, we must pursue and persevere to forge our dreams, because without us, the members of our small village will surely die.
Sources:
1Cronin, Paul. Herzog on Herzog. London: Faber and Faber, 2002. Print.
2Herzog, Werner and Norman Hill. Audio commentary. Aguirre, the Wrath of God. Dir. Herzog. Perf. Klaus Kinski. Werner Herzog Filmproduktion, 1972. DVD.
3Herzog.
4Eggert, Brian. "Aguirre, the Wrath of God (1979)". Deep Focus Review. Deep Focus Review, 2 April 2015. Web. Retrieved 24 May 2016.
5Herzog.
6Eggert.
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