Volcanos and fiery conversation: An afternoon with Werner Herzog

When you have the chance to see a film never before shown on the big screen AND to see its celebrity filmmaker live, you don't turn it down.

Last Thursday was the day that Werner Herzog visited The Coolidge Corner Theatre to accept his Coolidge Award, and although that specific event was in the evening, in the afternoon he attended a screening of his 2016 Netflix documentary Into the Inferno, and had an extended Q&A after.  A memorable afternoon it most certainly was! 

As a Coolidge member, I had reserved a ticket weeks ago, got there early, and saved a seat for my friend.  I shot this photo while waiting for her, but when she arrived we moved closer several rows.  Then the fun began.

First up was the film, and I loved it.  It follows the Herzog blueprint of exploring distant and dangerous lands, this time sharing the lens with British volcanographer Clive Oppenheimer, with whom Herzog has had a longtime friendship.  The film isn't about the science of volcanoes, although there is some of that; it isn't about the search to uncover volcanic secrets, although there is that; it isn't about capturing the violence and cinematic beauty of volcanic eruptions, although there is that as well.  In reality, it's a little of all those things, with perhaps humankind's odd and wondrous relationships with volcanoes being the primary theme.  Herzog himself traveled to locales like Indonesia, North Korea, and the Danekil desert in Ethiopia, developing relationships with and seeking insights from those that live on the edge of volcanic worlds. I found the segment with an inside view of the North Korean society, along with their country's volcanic origin story, to be particularly fascinating, especially today.  

North Korean children instructed in music (from Netflix Into the Inferno trailer)

The film successfully weaves scientific, personal and sociological explorations seamlessly with the characteristic Herzog editing finesse.  I didn't mind that a single theme wasn't deeply explored - which was a criticism by at least one reviewer I read.  The film was varied enough that whatever your interest, you were left wanting more, in a good way.  Another feature of a Herzog film in abundant evidence here, to this fan's delight, was the choice of music.  Choral music by Rachmaninoff, Vivaldi, and Schutz, along with the prelude to Wagner's Lohengrin, and traditional vocal music by Russian monks from the Kiev Pechersk Monastery, enhanced the magic and awe that we were taking in visually.

At the end of the film, Herzog was formally introduced by Katherine Tallman, Executive Director at the Coolidge, and was greeted enthusiastically by the sold-out crowd.

With a slightly raspy voice, he answered questions from moderator Professor Herbert Golder (Boston University).   For those interested, the entire Q&A was captured via Facebook Live and archived here.

Naturally, many of the questions related to the film we had just seen. I was surprised when he expressed that one of his main motivations to make the film was to get young audiences excited about science.  "If young people are inspired to become scientists, then the film will have been worth it." 

Herbert Golder from Boston U. and Werner Herzog.

There was also discussion about the larger themes, especially religious and spiritual, that are included in this and much of Herzog's work.  He acknowledged that while not adhering to a specific religion, he is fascinated by 'belief systems' and inspired to reach the sublime that is beyond everyday realities.  Considering much of his chosen music was religious, he told of a difficult negotiation with the Russian Orthodox church, which objected to sacred music with reference to 'voices of angel's being superimposed over images of volcanic eruptions.  In deference, Herzog left out some of the music he wanted to include. 

Herzog touched on his career of getting close to 'the edge' in many of his films.  He laughed and said he's still around because he balances his awe of nature with appropriate prudence.  The conversation naturally turned to the future of our planet, and his remarks were balanced--no doomsday view from this filmmaker.  "We are on shaky ground, but that doesn't mean we should roll back progress or go back to being hunters/gatherers."  And, "The Amish would be the only survivors on the planet if the internet went down for two weeks." (!)

Finally, he was asked his views, somewhat indirectly, about the current political climate in the U.S.  This is when the conversation turned fiery, and Herzog didn't hold back: "Trump was elected in a democratic process. We have to live with this.  The problem is not Trump, but the culture and the alienation felt by many in the heartland of the U.S.  The problem is not Steven's Point, Wisconsin, the problem is Boston."  A respectful hush came over the cinema then.  Herzog apparently feels that those in the audience at the Coolidge should work harder to develop a discourse with those in 'flyover' country.  I won't comment further, as my role is film blogger, not political commenter.  

I was glad that before this event, I took time to watch more of Herzog's work, including Nosferatu, the Vampyre (1979), as shared in last month's blog; Aguirre, the Wrath of God (1972), and the fascinating documentary My Best Fiend (1999) about his relationship with volatile, unstable, but brilliant actor Klaus Kinski.  It helped me better appreciate the skill and uniqueness of this still active auteur, with whom I shared an afternoon.  Unfortunately, I was unable to attend the evening conversation and award presentation, but for those interested, that is also available on Facebook here:

Werner Herzog's Nosferatu, The Vampyre (1979)

Every year my neighborhood rep house the Coolidge Corner Cinema honors a distinguished person in film with the  'Coolidge Award'.  This year, it's German director Werner Herzog, who is 75 years old in 2018.  He'll be visiting on February 8 for an afternoon screening of a TBA film followed by a Q&A, and then a full evening discussion with Boston University Classics professor Herbert Golder.  See details here.

Werner Herzog (photo from www.coolidge.org)

I've only seen a couple of his films, but I decided that I need to see more, in preparation for the afternoon session that I'll be attending that day.  Luckily for me, Filmstruck has several of his films currently available, and I only somewhat reluctantly decided to take a look at his telling of the Dracula legend, Nosferatu, The Vampyre (1979).  Those familiar with classic horror films will likely already know the film it's based on, F.W. Murnau's legendary silent film Nosferatu from 1922.  German compatriot Herzog, decades later, apparently loved the film and decided to remake it, but with the original names from the Bram Stoker novel restored.  Usually, remaking a classic is a bad idea.  In this case, it was actually a pleasant (?) surprise.  I started watching fearing I'd quickly be repulsed, or bored, or both. I was quickly drawn in and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. I would give a green light to any classic film fan thinking about watching this one.  (Unless they would be unsettled by rats; lots and lots and lots of rats.)  A few observations follow.

Herzog was obviously going for the "look" that Max Schreck brought to his role as the skeletally thin, toothy menace that is Nosferatu (Count Dracula) when he made up Klaus Kinski.  Check it out:

Klaus Kinski as Dracula (1979)

Max Schreck as Nosferatu (1922)

The two directors have different approaches to the character, however. Murnau creates a sense of mystery in his Nosferatu by generally requiring us to maintain a distance from the vampire-- his most memorable appearances filmed mostly in silhouette, shadow, or in medium or long shots.  He's certainly creepy enough and we get the point that he's to be feared. Herzog, on the other hand, brings us close in to his Dracula, as we can't help but sense the realness, albeit horrifying nature, of this creature. Herzog is interested in the complex psychology of the character, and Kinski delivers -- while he's so horribly ugly and repulsive, we simultaneously feel some empathy for the great pain that the man is obviously dealing with, the affliction that causes him to have to feed on the blood of living humans without ever resting or being able to grow old and die.  Kinski was notorious for his unstable personality, and had to be institutionalized when he was a young man; perhaps some of that madness is channeled here.  

Herzog provides us well-rounded characters of Jonathan Harker (Bruno Ganz), who somehow can't get his business transacted with Dracula quick enough to escape without being neck-bitten, and his devoted wife Lucy (Isabelle Adjani) who ultimately vanquishes the menace, at cost to her own life.  The sexual angle of the Dracula story isn't overemphasized, but you will certainly see it if you look.  Renfield, the business owner who sends Harker on his adventure is already losing his mind -- his constant high pitched cackle as supplied by actor Roland Topor was incredibly annoying in short order.

A sense of unease settles over Count Dracula's houseguest, Jonathan Harker

Herzog seems interested in the everyday living of this central European town that is simultaneously beset with vampire horror and the Black Death, not necessarily coincidentally.  Many shots look like still life paintings of the great Dutch masters. Herzog and cinematographer Jörg Schmidt-Reitwein relied heavily on natural light, or candlelight, which gave the film a sense of time and place, as well as a natural hearth-bound beauty, or ominous beauty of the wilderness:

In Renfield's office: Kittens with books and apples

I also loved the soundtrack. Florian Fricke and Popol Vuh are credited, and their contributions are the modern, dissonant themes, but also new-agey guitar compositions which give a comforting and romantic feel to the early scenes in the film, like this one between Jonathan and his wife Lucy.

However, the climax of the first third of the film, when Harker has left the comfort of the inn and climbs into the starkness of the Carpathian mountains towards Dracula's dwelling, is scored with the Prelude to Wagner's Ring Cycle--the opening of Das Rheingold.  It's lush, majestic music that builds slowly quietly to almost a triumphant forte.  Perhaps it was chosen because of the opera's overarching theme of the destructive nature of the quest for gold -- not unlike the destruction Harker unwittingly brings upon his own town at the end of the film as he pursues his chance for wealth.  

The entire sequence is currently on YouTube, linked below.  Wagner's Prelude to Das Rheingold starts about 2 minutes in.

Roger Ebert, a great admirer of Herzog, considered his version of the Dracula story worthy of inclusion in his list of "Great Movies."  Read here his summary of the powerful experience that is watching this film.  Finally, fellow blogger Silent-ology wrote a great essay about this film in 2015, read it here.

Next up:  Aguirre, the Wrath of God!