In
the past, I had always been somewhat weary when approaching the films
of Werner Herzog. His generally acclaimed movies are good but nothing
seriously outstanding. It was the documentary Grizzly Man that
first raised my eyebrows and the director's standing with me, but it
was really Woyzeck (1979) that blew me away.
Now
the similar-sounding title of Stroszek (1977) – our intents
and purposes here - is intentional. Herzog who had previously worked
with Bruno S. in the Enigma of Kaspar Hauser (1974)
had initially wanted him to play Woyzeck as well. Yet since it did
not work out since Herzog backed out of his promise, that particular
role was given to Klaus Kinski instead (a wise choice indeed). So to
compensate for it, Herzog decided to make another movie and wrote the
script for Stroszek in merely four days.
There
are two characteristics that are part and parcel of almost any Herzog
movie. Apart from a stark realism that permeates pretty much all of
his films, he is most interested in extreme characters who find
themselves in even more extreme situations. Whether it is
Fitzcarraldo lifting a ship up a mountain in Peru or the “Grizzly
Man” Timothy Treadwell living with grizzlies in the backlands of
Alaska and suffering a gruesome death for it, it is the extraordinary
that attracts the German director.
Bruno
S. was one such person. An abandoned and abused child of a
prostitute, this man who was generally deemed insane (but not by
Herzog nor his standards) has gone through hell and then some. In
fact, the first half of the movie set in Germany mirrors facts and
events from Bruno's personal life.
His
acting is fully natural because he is basically reenacting parts of
his own life. In that sense, it has the feel of a documentary and to
add to this, Herzog not only gave all the characters the same given
names as their respective actors, but he even chose seasoned
criminals to play the criminals who harass poor Bruno.
The
first half of the movie is brilliant film-making indeed. It takes
Herzog merely minutes to create sympathy for the main characters,
mostly Bruno of course but also the accompanying prostitute Eva and
the old man Scheitz. Something that James L. Brooks does not achieve
in its entirety when it comes to the highly overrated Terms of
Endearment (1983), for example.
We
see this interesting and odd trio's daily life and their desires and
dreams for escape. The generous and kind old man has little to look
forward to except a possible trip to the US to visit his American
nephew. Bruno has just been released from prison and a caring but
stern prison ward gave him a long lecture on the vicissitudes of
alcohol. Stay away from bars and if you find yourself there only buy
coffee, Bruno is told. It is the drink that has brought him there,
and the prison guard wishes him well and does not wish to ever see
him on those prison grounds again.
So
when Bruno leaves the prison with nobody waiting for him where does
he go first? Straight to the adjacent bar to order a beer. When Eva
asks him where he has been all this time, he responds with his
deadpan yet naive face that he has been “on vacation.”
To
protect Eva from her pimps, Bruno puts himself selflessly in
danger. He makes money by playing his accordion and singing songs in
back alleys. After a humiliating visit by the criminals who make fun
of him and threaten him, Bruno finds some comfort with a doctor
friend who cannot give him advice per se but who shows him premature
babies gripping onto his fingers or, more symbolically, the desperate
grip on life by the underprivileged. Life must go on even if one
does not get a head start.
Enough
is enough, so this unlikely trio Bruno, Eva, and the old man Scheitz
decide to leave for the new continent that promises riches and
happiness, in short, the elusive quest for the often sought-after
American Dream. So far I was very moved by the characters as each of
them (minus the criminals of course) were compassionate and complex
beings.
Yet
when they end up in the States, not only does the landscape change
but so do the people. The Americans are portrayed as simple farm
folk, as kind but mainly driven by sex and lust for money. Most of
the second half deals with having and not having money, including a
banker who means well but ends up taking or repossessing all of their
possessions. For me, the movie lost some of its emotional drive
because very little happens thereafter.
Since
the trio finds it hard to adapt to the new lifestyle, they are driven
into deep and irretrievable debt. So much so that Eva, the only one of
the three who speaks English, picks up prostitution again and leaves
with a couple of shady truckers further up north to Vancouver. The
old man becomes increasingly paranoid of all Americans and both he
and Bruno decide to rob money at gunpoint so that they can get by and
be able to buy daily necessities.
When
they are about to make those purchases, the old man gets arrested so
we have Bruno left with a shotgun and a frozen turkey under his arm.
The truck breaks down (after circling inexplicably around the
shotgun and turkey, don't ask) in a no-good town (sorry Cherokee,
North Carolina). And it all culminates and ends with a rabbit riding
a fire truck, a chicken playing the piano, and, most importantly, the
dancing chicken.
Ah,
the dancing chicken! Now apparently Herzog's crew was unanimously and
unequivocally offended by it, and they did not want to have any part
of it. Hence they abstained and Herzog had to shoot the scene
himself, which he, by the way, considers some of his most poignant
film-making. Even he is not entirely sure what the dancing chicken
stands for, but he claims it could be seen as a metaphor for life
that somebody somewhere is putting in coins, and we all dance to
those tunes just like that chicken.
It
is silly, surreal, poignant, and unforgettable all in one! What better way to finish up a year and
start a brand-new one than with a dancing chicken. Hope you enjoyed this bit, dear reader, and all the best for the holidays and a Happy New Year to you!
