“The Enigma Of Kaspar Hauser” (1974)
It’s a story told fairly often—that of the wild child found in the wilderness, soon domesticated—but leave it to Werner Herzog to add a whole new spin. Never judgmental, Herzog’s approach is to illuminate his actors and characters in a distanced, peculiar way and Kaspar Hauser (Bruno Schleinstein), who starts off chained to the floor inside a cell is no different. Soon lured outside, this unhinged societal newcomer and the circus (both literal and figurative) into which he emerges are observes by a detached dispassionate camera in and almost trademark curious, awkward manner. And then, as Hauser evolves, he becomes the least peculiar element of his lifestyle, as Herzog’s focus makes Hauser’s actions seem almost mundane, while the activities of the “civilized” feel ever more bizarre and alienated. ‘The Enigma‘ seems to be Herzog’s fascination with how some standards are accepted if unexplained, and how some values that we instill in each other to appear “normal” are arbitrary and meaningless, with Kaspar at the center of what ends up being part of the auteur’s ongoing attempt to rationalize the irrational world that surrounds him. Or at least to marvel at its frightful, undiscriminating irrationality. [A-]
“Heart of Glass” (1976)
By now, the director’s bizarre filmmaking methods are often more widely known than the actual films themselves, and such is the case with “Heart of Glass.” Set in 18th century Bavaria, a local community is thrown into disarray when the only glass blower holding the secret to producing their life-blood “ruby glass” passes away. The big story here is that Herzog, in order to get the trance-like performances of a society declining into insanity, shot the entire film with most of the cast under hypnosis. But without getting carried away with the process, let’s focus on the end product: while it hasn’t got the swiftest pacing, the entire film does have a strange tension running through it, and the camera’s fascination with the process of glass-blowing, of all things, is absorbing. There’s also the insanely dark, moody cinematography—it’s sometimes feels like it’s all set on a terrifying alien planet, making “Nosferatu the Vampyre” seem light and frothy by comparison. It’s not a perfect film and definitely rough around the edges, but like most of Herzog’s oeuvre, is a one-of-a-kind experience that can’t be found anywhere else and couldn’t have been made by anyone else. [B]
“Stroszek” (1977)
While the early work of Werner Herzog tends to be marked by bizarre outréness (“Even Dwarves Started Small,” ‘Kaspar Hauser‘) or madman-like performances (the Klaus Kinski years), the German filmmaker’s “Stroszek,” is a relatively quiet, nuanced and effective drama about a trio of Germans trying to make it in America and quickly learning the streets are not simply paved with gold for the picking. Herzog’s beloved Bruno S. (the star of ‘Kaspar Hauser‘) stars as Bruno, a former mental patient who falls in with a prostitute who is being abused by her hirsute pimps. Also taking a beating for keeping company with her, Bruno, Eva (Eva Mattes) and an old man decide to set out for America to escape their woes, but soon foreclosures, bankruptcy and the realities of life come crashing in. A dark and pessimistic comment on the illusion of the American dream, “Stroszek,” is still an empathetically made chronicle of cherished hopes and dreams dashed in the so-called land of opportunity, and, by the end, the comical absurdity of it all. [B+]
“Nosferatu The Vampyre” (1979)
Remakes have a stigma attached to them before they’re even in the can, with fans holding onto certain films as though they were sacred texts. But if there was one production that not only avoided this stigma, but actually caused great anticipation and excitement, it’d be this Werner Herzog/Klaus Kinski joint. Taking cues from Murnau‘s classic, the filmmaker delivers a masterpiece of his own by neglecting the Bram Stoker source material and instead cracking open the silent film to see what made it work. This newer version has the same premise, following estate agent Jonathan Harker (Bruno Ganz) on his visit to see Count Dracula (Kinski) in order to settle a property sale. After a few perturbing nightmares (also shared back home by his wife Lucy, played by Isabelle Adjani), Harker discovers he’s a vampire who wishes to wreak terror on the surrounding area. Unfortunately, Dracula takes off in the night to claim his newly purchased land, leaving Harker locked in the castle and everyone else, especially his toothsome wife, vulnerable. Herzog’s powerful command of the material elevates it above your standard vampire fare, and in telling the story slowly, quietly and distantly he builds an undercurrent of foreboding dread, that flares to all-out uncanniness whenever Kinski’s Dracula snarls onto the screen. A highly successful union between a genre picture and an auteurist epic. [A]
“Woyzeck” (1979)
A surprisingly faithful adaptation of George Büchner‘s play (or as faithful as you can be for a play that only survives in fragments, which can be performed in more or less any order), photography on “Woyzeck” began only five days after filming wrapped on “Nosferatu The Vampyre,” and the exhaustion certainly shows on its star Klaus Kinski (a last minute swap for “Kasper Hauser” lead Bruno S.)—the actor might have specialized in madness, but he never looks quite as close to the edge as he does here. But somehow, Herzog doesn’t seem cowed. The film was shot in a mere eighteen days, and edited in four, and that pace is reflected in the finished film, which is one of the director’s briskest and tightest. Still it’s not one of the best—the performances are certainly striking, and Eva Mattes deservedly won Best Supporting Actress at Cannes for her performances as Woyzeck’s mistress—but the film’s a slave to its form, never quite escaping a certain stagy quality, while also failing to really dig into the heart of the play. As ever with the director, however, it’s hardly dull, and, while it might be a minor work, it has plenty to recommend it even beyond the acting, particularly the unforgettable ending. [B-]