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!

Five Movies on an Island -- with my Dad

This is my entry in the "5 Movies on an Island" blogathon to celebrate "National Classic Movie Day" on May 16th, hosted by Classic Film & TV Cafe.

Everyone who knew him would agree with me that my Dad was a modern Renaissance man.  A Ph.D. scientist by practice, he loved and made a study of the arts and literature in his spare time. His primary love was classical music, especially opera, and he taught opera appreciation later in his life.  I was just starting to adore classic film when I lost Dad, but nevertheless, he also loved classic film, and I have fond memories of sharing some with him, starting from when I was a child through to the last year we had together.  May 16 is Dad's birthday, and this year he will be gone five years. This post is dedicated to him, and if I ever found myself on a desert island, I'd hope to have with me these five films, that he and I shared, to remember him.

Presented in the order I watched them with Dad, they are:
SCROOGE aka A Christmas Carol (1951)
This would perhaps be on my top ten favorite films list in any case.  Count me among those who believe Alastair Sim's portrayal of Scrooge is the best ever on film, because of his treating the character as a real person.  His deeply psychological portrait of a man who hates himself, and thus everyone around him, is compellingly nuanced.  The terrific supporting cast of Kathleen Harrison, Mervyn Johns, Hermione Baddeley, and Michael Hordern, and taught direction of Brian Desmond Hurst, contribute to making the film one that, in the words of Leonard Maltin, is too good to be viewed only at Christmas.  My earliest recollection of this film was when I was perhaps about 10 years old, and late on a winter's evening I tiptoed into our family room to see that my Dad was on his own watching this blurry, scratchy old B&W film on the TV.  "What's this?", I asked.  "It's 'A Christmas Carol' -- from the 50's, the best movie version", Dad replied.  I chuckled in disbelief -- "This??"  It looked so ancient and uninviting.  It must have been a very poor print.  I shook my head and walked away from the TV.  Decades later I want to tell my Dad that this film is a holiday ritual for me, and that of course, as usual, he was right.

FITZCARRALDO (1982)
I was in college and on summer break, staying with my parents in our family home, when Dad checked this film out of the video store and announced it was going to be our evening's entertainment.  When I asked him what the film was about, I knew immediately what his attraction was.  It was a story about a opera-loving man (Klaus Kinski) determined, against all odds, to build an opera house in the middle of the Amazon jungle, and to engage the eminent Enrico Caruso to sing there.  As directed by Werner Herzog, and produced in Germany, I recall it being a somewhat surrealistic journey, fraught with madness and danger, excitement and love.  I confess to not appreciating it those many years ago, but I saw my Dad smile as he watched.  It's now considered one of Herzog's best, and for me, with my new love of film, more than deserving of another viewing.  Having this on a desert island will give me more than enough time to plumb the depths of vision and meaning that Herzog brought to this tale.

THE SEARCHERS (1956)

THE SEARCHERS is a film that existed in my imagination for many years before I ever saw it.  As a teenager, I was fascinated with Buddy Holly and his music, and was familiar with the story that Buddy Holly & the Crickets' first big hit "That'll be the Day," was inspired by the phrase repeated often by John Wayne in this movie.  I hadn't heard any more about the film for many years since then, but in recent years I began to see it popping up in lists of the best films of all time, best westerns, etc.  [I was impressed --Buddy Holly and his friends had good taste in movies as well as music!]  In 2009, I decided to finally see it, prompted by a friend who was on a mission to see every film in the AFI's top 100.  I rented it, and decided to watch it one day when my parents were visiting me here in Boston.  Neither of them recalled seeing it, but thought that they might have when it first came out in theaters in 1956.  When the credits rolled, Mom, Dad, and I agreed we had seen something special--an epic performance by Wayne and a classic of storytelling, framing, and cinematography.  Knowing that my Dad appreciated seeing this as I did, made me feel like I had accomplished a mission in more ways than one. This film also has enough beauty and characterizations to make multiple desert-island viewings a great pleasure.

LA GRANDE ILLUSION (1937) -- Dad was the one who introduced this Jean Renoir film to me.  As he took advantage of his membership in the now defunct Blockbuster video mail order service, he came across this one and brought the DVD along on another trip to Boston.  I had not yet entered fully into my classic film obsession, but I remember being open to this film, as I'd heard of Erich von Stroheim, and was eager to see a war film from an earlier era; at the time, I had become a fan of WWII films and stories, being turned on to them by Clint Eastwood's filming of FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS and LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA.  This B&W film grabbed me initially by the colorful characters portrayed by von Stroheim & Jean Gabin, the multiple languages spoken, and the poignant anti-war message camouflaged by humor and romance.  It is a film that should remind us in any era that we are all human, and most of all deserve respect from one another.  The film also started Dad on an appreciation of French cinema, an interest he explored in the last years of his life by taking a course from his local 'institute of learning in retirement' on films from Truffaut and Malle.

Buster Keaton -- the Shorts Collection.
I credit Buster with setting my feet solidly on the path to classic film obsession. On a lark, I'd brought a friend with me to a local screening of STEAMBOAT BILL JR with live music.  Shortly after that, I was exploring classic film starting with the silent comedians, Buster Keaton first, followed by Chaplin, watching everything they ever made.  One of my Christmas gifts that year was this multiple disc set from Kino.  As my parents and sister were visiting for the holidays, I 'subjected' them to watching these whenever we needed some down time.  To my great surprise, my Dad and sister both enjoyed them almost as much as I did.  Our favorites were probably COPS, ONE WEEK, and THE BALLOONATIC.  Once we finished a short, it was hard to keep from watching the next one.  I remember saying to my Dad, "Up for another?"  He replied, "Yes, they're addictive, aren't they?"

Over the last months of Dad's life he and I corresponded by phone and email about classic film, both of us watching and discussing some of the Truffaut and Malle films he was studying in his short course. I wish I'd have had more time to explore with him this mutual interest, but am tremendously grateful for the love of art and classics in general that Dad made it a priority to share with me.  Along with many other memories, these films will always be linked to his memory in my mind.