For about the past two and a half months, almost exactly in conjunction with the coronavirus outbreak here in South Korea and throughout the world, I've watched 63 of Werner Herzog's 66 feature and documentary films.
My first encounter with Werner Herzog came as a college student, when a religious studies professor offhandedly mentioned
Aguirre, the Wrath of God as an interesting take on divine inspiration gone wrong. In any event, I really enjoyed it but I'd be lying if I said I'd fallen in love. Any Klaus Kinski performance is worth your attention, at least for a few minutes, but I more vividly remember watching it in conjunction with Roland Joffe's
The Mission (1986, R.I.P. Ennio Morricone) which deals with similar history and themes. (Also, a roommate swore the soundtrack to the latter was really good for having sex to. Memory is always over-determined, just like history.)
Along the way through graduate school I remember seeing
Fitzcarraldo (1982) in the context of colonial / post-colonial studies /excesses, and not really thinking too much about it other than the obvious insanity of pulling a ship over a mountain. (And succeeding.) And somewhere I watched
Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979). It's Herzog's only pure horror film, and I really loved its slow, ponderous tension, making no compromise to the growing phenomenon of slasher / gore films. And of course knowing nothing about their on-set relationship, Kinski was riveting.
It was in the mid-naughts, staying with my sister for about a year, that I came across
Grizzly Man (2005) just about the time it came out, or maybe a year or so after. I remember watching it with my sister and her husband and, at the end, not really knowing what to make of it. Or even to be honest, how to feel about it. I could sense the deep empathy and curiosity -- who wouldn't throw away the bullshit of modern life to go live with gorgeous, powerful, innocent bears? But there was also a sense of judgement -- Herzog's constant theme of nature's indifference to humankind -- that never let you forget that Timothy Treadwell
was fucking crazy, despite the purity of his intentions. (John Krakauer's film version of
Into the Wild came out in 2007, and I remember that and the sound-track were also big at the time. Five years after 9/11 and into the forever wars of Iraq and Afghanistan, moving back to nature was a comforting, if pitifully naive thought, for many of us Americans.)
So
Grizzly Man was definitely the experience where I had to find out more about this dark, obscurantist German nihilist, who happened to also be capable of deeply human, humane works of both sympathy and critique.
I moved to South Korea to teach English in 2008. From there I managed to stay up to date with what followed --
Encounters at the End of the World (2007) and
Cave of Forgotten Dreams (2010). It's entirely possible that these initial contacts with Herzog have made me remember them more fondly than they deserve, but upon watching (and re-watching where necessary) every film ever made by him I'm still willing to bet that he was at the height of his cinematic powers between 2003 (
Wheel of Time) and 2010. (This includes 2004's
The White Diamond. This is where the title of this first post comes from, as Werner warns a man hell-bent on self-destruction that "heroic stupid" and "stupid stupid" are never the same thing.)