Werner Herzog: Radical Dreamer Review – Imperfect Portrait Will Make You Yearn for the Real Thing

Before we dive into the documentary “Werner Herzog: Radical Dreamer,” it helps to first understand who the enigmatic man behind the camera is. Even if you’re not familiar with art house darlings like “Aguirre, the Wrath of God” or “Fitzcarraldo,” you’ve likely caught Werner Herzog’s distinctive voice on “The Simpsons” or lending gravitas to a wildcard “Star Wars” character.

So who is this guy with the Zsa Zsa Gabor accent who gets name-checked on primetime cartoons? Werner Herzog has built a reputation over the past 60 years as not just an innovative, uncompromising director, but something of a wunderkind eccentric. Tales of him stealing cameras for his first films or dragging steamships over mountains capture public imagination. But are the myths true and what motivated this enduring radical dreamer?

That’s what director Thomas von Steinaecker aims to unpack in his 2024 documentary profile. While it can’t encapsulate the full range of a prolific filmography spanning both German cinema’s New Wave and Hollywood box office, it traces the life events that shaped Herzog’s singular vision. From an impoverished childhood in postwar Munich to volatile collaborations with muse Klaus Kinski, we glimpse behind the enigma to better understand both the man and his movies.

Strap in as we explore the stranger-than-fiction reality of a director who blurs truth and fiction as boldly as he does vision and delusion. Love him or find him absurd, Werner Herzog leaves no one unchanged after glimpsing his dreams and nightmares splayed on celluloid.

Forging His Own Path Through Hardship

When we look at the daring, almost reckless ambition that defines Werner Herzog’s films, it’s telling to glimpse the humility of his beginnings. Born mere months before Germany’s defeat in World War II, Herzog grew up in a nation grappling with devastation and soul-searching in the aftermath. Food and housing shortages plagued major cities like Munich where Herzog spent his early childhood. As his brother Lucki Stipetić notes, the family often struggled to provide regular meals for the children. Herzog’s home stood right next to a bombed out building, serving as a daily reminder of the war’s toll.

And yet, Herzog found liberation in celluloid dreams. Even while supporting his family with odd jobs as a welder and stagehand, he squirreled away enough funds in his late teens to make his first films after “stealing” a 35mm camera. These youthful experiments already brimmed with the grandiose visions that would become Herzog trademarks. His breakout hit Signs of Life in 1968 both introduced key collaborators like actor Peter Brogle and cinematographer Thomas Mauch and also helped breathe new life into German cinema on the international stage.

It was another ambitious project, 1972’s Aguirre, Wrath of God, that truly cemented Herzog’s position as a creative force to be reckoned with. It also marked the start of his fiery working relationship with Klaus Kinski, a masterful actor hampered by severe insecurities and manic outbursts. Herzog sporting injuries from Kinski’s violent on-set attacks becomes almost a badge of honor, a sign of his refusal to compromise. Come hell or high water, the films would be finished and his singular visions would emerge on screen. We see in Herzog’s beginnings tremendous personal will forged through hardship, a refusal to be limited by resources or convention.

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Capturing Quixotic Visions on Film

When watching a Herzog film, you know it within seconds. No one captures imagery quite like him, leaning towards the grandiose and operatic. Sweeping helicopter shots of the Amazon or Antarctic glaciers abound as his camera gazes upon natural majesty. He often foregrounds landscapes to dwarf his quirky heroes. Tiny figures struggling up mist-wreathed peaks or perched on rafts drifting the river’s bend.

He also thinks little of filming in the most unwelcoming, remote wildernesses far from any studio sets. As one interviewee notes, “Dragging a steamship over a mountain seemed like a wild idea, right?” Herzog made it happen for his semi-fictional account of rubber baron Carlos Fermín Fitzcarrald in 1982’s aptly named Fitzcarraldo. Adventures in the Amazon jungle beset both nineteenth century dreamers and their equally mad twentieth century chroniclers.

Herzog clearly feels a bond with such quixotic figures, obsessed with achieving some glorious impossible vision in defiance of unfeeling nature. Timothy Treadwell’s tragic belief he could live unharmed among wild Alaskan grizzlies gets documented in Grizzly Man. Even his fictional characters, like the power-mad Spanish conquistador spinning violent fantasies in Aguirre, Wrath of God, hold an all too tangible desire for unattainable glory.

Of course, Herzog’s heroes seldom win their victory. The wrathful jungle, eternal glaciers, and mighty bears remain indifferent, swallowing intruding human hubris. Only the camera makes it back to tell the tale.

That camera, moreover, complicates easy divisions between unvarnished truth and dramatic license. Those sweeping vistas mesmerize us but also render human drama distant as operatic fables. And Herzog tweaks truth further in staging scenes like a boat hauling that use locals as acting extras. Re-enactment blends with documentary footage until only the storyteller’s voice lends coherence. In the end, we’re left judgment to the visions Herzog conjures.

Bold Visions Demand High Costs

If there’s one thing fans and critics alike will say about Werner Herzog, it’s that his vision knows no bounds. And as revealed in the documentary “Radical Dreamer,” neither do the trials and near-disasters plaguing many Herzog shoots.

Indeed, excruciating conditions and even mortal danger seem perversely intertwined with his most acclaimed films. Infamously, the making of his masterful Amazonian nightmare Aguirre, Wrath of God in 1972 was nothing short of agonizing. Financial setbacks and delays, oppressive jungle heat, threats of indigenous tribal attacks, and lead actor Klaus Kinski’s daily psychotic outbursts all pushed cast and crew to their limits. Somehow, through iron focus, an exhausted Herzog persevered against long odds, emerging with a powerhouse film.

Yet its follow-up Fitzcarraldo almost surpassed Aguirre for sheer mayhem in the jungle. Initial director of photography Thomas Mauch got too ill to continue. Then lead Jason Robards, a Herzog favorite, also took gravely sick. Not even a supporting actor as famous as Mick Jagger could escape the production curse, bailing to tour with The Rolling Stones. Of course, dragging a steamship up and over a muddy mountain slope was never going to be easy.

With all the near-death experiences and tantrums required to get a Herzog vision on film, those behind the camera wear their productions like badges of honor. They persevered despite everything nature and man could throw at them. And if that meant putting life and limb in danger, so be it. Herzog himself sees such methods as necessary for his uncompromising process.

Small wonder then that, even when going mainstream, Herzog felt shunned by the German film establishment. Too reckless, too demanding of cast and crew, critics claimed. That he’s now a beloved cult figure, especially across the Atlantic, surely pleases him greatly as sweet vindication. Where the old country deemed him excessive, Hollywood now lauds his excess.

Questioning the Cult of Personality

With his outsider mystique and countless bold stories, it’s easy to put Werner Herzog on an idolizing pedestal. Even the documentary “Radical Dreamer” indulges in lionization at times through celebrity soundbites. However, several reviewers note the dangers of reducing both creator and creations to the cult of Herzog’s personality.

While his voiceover drawl and Bavarian directness have become pop culture comedy gold, critics argue his films represent far more. Works like “Aguirre, Wrath of God” offer bitingly astute critiques of imperialism and mad dictatorship. “Grizzly Man” movingly explores the gulf between man and nature. To appreciate only the wry wisdom ofPkgod jokes risks overlooking the sociopolitical commentary within.

Furthermore, “Radical Dreamer” seldom delves deeper into analyzing Herzog’s complex methods and themes. We get entertaining behind-the-scenes anecdotes but little interpretation of their significance. Certain apologist fans even use the director’s mystique to wave away substantive analysis, decrying critiques as failing to “get” his genius.

Yet it does truth and art no favors to only provide shallow hagiography for a revered auteur. Even the most groundbreaking of filmmakers has blind spots and flaws worth thoughtful examination. Doing so allows their achievements to shine all the brighter too.

While “Radical Dreamer” makes for an enjoyable launching point into Herzog’s storied career, engaged viewers should dig deeper on their own. Move beyond the quirky quotes and daring personality to truly wrestle with the complicated ideas and imagery captured so powerfully on celluloid. In contending with both style and substance, we better appreciate exactly why this dreamer’s radically singular visions rightfully endure.

Imperfect Yet Compelling Gateway to a Remarkable Filmography

As evidenced above, “Werner Herzog: Radical Dreamer” has its fair share of limitations. Attempting to encapsulate such a long, storied directorial career within 90 minutes inevitably leaves gaps. Even the most ardent Herzog devotees may hunger for more analysis of recurring themes and methods only touched on here.

And yet, it remains an enjoyable first step into the filmmaker’s endlessly quixotic works. For newcomers, it serves as an accessible overview introduction, especially with the well-curated archival clips. Signatures like grandiose wilderness vistas and brooding voiceovers come through to intrigue and beguile the viewer. Those already converted still get several lesser known biographical insights and anecdotes to savor.

Above all, “Radical Dreamer” will leave most rushing to view or revisit the eclectic filmography it spotlights. One may queue up the masterful “Aguirre, Wrath of God” to witness feverish colonial ambition deliquesce in the indifferent jungle. Or cue the stranger-than-fiction “Grizzly Man” to behold Timothy Treadwell’s fatal romanticizing of his ursine neighbors. Even Herzog’s Hollywood efforts like the trippy noir “Bad Lieutenant” intrigue.

No single documentary could ever fully encapsulate such an iconoclastic life and career. Yet credit “Radical Dreamer” for providing a thoughtful, if incomplete, sketch of this uncompromising auteur. For all its limitations, the film may spark a lifelong passion for wiggy dreamscapes and quixotic quests unique to Herzog’s Beautiful, unhinged visions. Audiences could ask for little more from a retrospective introduction than that.

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