Essay On Margaret Herzog

Werner Herzog declares, “There are deeper strata of truth in cinema.” This “mysterious and elusive” truth that he searches for is “poetic, ecstatic…and can be reached only through fabrication and imagination and stylization” (Minnesota Declaration). His manifesto of sorts aptly explains why the line between documentary and narrative fiction is so blurry in his plethora of films. In this same pronouncement, Herzog denounces “the so-called Cinema Verite’,” which he deems is “devoid of verite” because it and (more accurately to him) direct cinema bungles “fact and truth.” Rather Herzog employs a stylistically diverse skill-set in the seven films that I viewed and explored. In these films, Herzog always explores a fiercely individualistic and personal theme (communication vs. isolation, human beings’ relationship with a harsh and warlike nature, or the
intricacies and tragedy of language for example), but the stories are secondary and complementary. Herzog occupies a unique place in documentary history because his approach is not characterized by a signature style –like Frederick Wiseman’s almost “fly on the wall” direct cinema, which encompasses a complete lack of expository, interactive, or outwardly reflexive elements – but by an ever-changing mixture of styles. Herzog outwardly utilizes and merges a variety of techniques (on-camera interviews, reenacting, observation, dramatic music) poetically and artfully, depending on his subject matter, in a way to give expression to some overarching theme.
Regardless of if Herzog’s personal views about cinema verite’ and direct cinema are valid, it is important to recognize that since Nanook of the North there has been some level of artifice and stylization in documentary film, even if it is in the basic editing process. These manipulations stand out as good markers of his artistic intent. Herzog’s voice and hand are not so subtle when he tries to push his point. One sequence that stands out clearly in this regard is the opening of Herzog’s 1971 exploration of the European deaf-blind community, Land of Silence and Darkness. The scene starts off in a black background with the strong voiceover of the leader of connecting the European deaf-blind, Fini Straubinger, as the focus. She describes an event that was clearly imprinted in her mind before she went deaf and blind. She was at a ski-jumping competition and the image of a ski-jumper, more specifically his face, was so enthralling that she gleefully says, “I wish you could see that.” Thus there is an interesting gap. The gap results from Fini’s inability to understand the world the way we (the seeing and hearing) do, as well as our inability to understand her inner world. Fini represents not only her noble and inspiring struggle, but also all human beings and our difficulties with expression. After her description, Herzog attempts to bridge the gap between Fini and us and express her memory by inserting a series of images of jumpers flying through the air. This sequence is accompanied by majestic classical music, giving an almost godlike feel to these flying people. His art bridges the gap. It is apparent then that Herzog is not merely observing or telling Fini’s narrative. With his manipulations, he is using her story as a means to assist his exploration of a larger theme. This is a thread throughout the rest of the film. Herzog’s exploration for this greater open-ended, “poetic” theme is reinforced by his use of other techniques. Two distinct instances where he lets the camera linger on a subject for a very long time are when he points the camera at the unaware subjects of Else and Vladimir. The uncomfortable time we spend insistently staring at the barrier of these deaf-blind people represents a vital inability to hear and communicate. There obviously can be no interaction between subject and camera, thus the audience is left to ponder and question further this void that is left. Another instance where Herzog’s outward tendency to highlight his personal “ecstatic” truths dealing with speech and communication is Herzog’s depiction of FIni, as a characterization as a bridge to the deaf-blind. Before the audience even sees Fini close-up, Herzog films a close-up of her hand as her interpreter touches it. Herzog intensifies his lack of interest in Fini herself by lowering the sound on her voice and tilting the camera to her right, filming a close-up of Julie, another deaf-blind person. Julie smiles. She cannot hear Fini and their disconnect is enhanced by her pleasant face. Herzog’s examination also includes the dark anxiety that comes to fruition when the deaf-blind are unable to communicate. On the plane, Julie restlessly searches for Fini’s hand and when she finally finds it, the close-up on Julie’s smile and sigh signifies a powerful message to us just as it does to Fini. Even more extremely is the tragic case of Else, whose isolation renders her unable to learn the tactile alphabet, or as Herzog poetically quotes Helen Keller, is unable to be “spiritually born.” Herzog presents her unfortunate sequence by inserting an intertitle that reads “when you let go of my hand, it is as if we were 1000 miles apart.” Herzog’s piece is not an argument though. Communication thematically is multi-faceted. It is vital, but at the same time it can be insufficient and constraining (the ski-jumper case). There is no conclusion about language and unlike many other documentary films there is no rise to arms or call to action. The last words that appear on the screen are: “If a worldwide war would break out now, I wouldn’t even notice it.” In Herzog’s decision to insert this, he is asking a question of whether it would be better to live without this knowledge.
In Werner Herzog’s cinematic world, every ‘actor’ and image become his tools to advance his vision and truth.
This is known on the outset. Herzog has stated point blank, “I am my film.” He does not claim objectivity and in fact rejects the notion “that truth can be easily found by taking a camera and trying to be honest” (Minnesota Declaration). In general, Herzog is against the idea that truth can be passively observed and agrees with the idea that artificiality can expose it. With this idea in mind, Herzog ethically is not worried about manipulation behind the camera or fabrications of actors (which he claims are always approved by the actors) because he claims that at worst it adds a poetic or ecstatic element to his characters. While this may seem less obvious in Land of Silence and Darkness, in a film such as My Best Fiend, Herzog has no problem erasing the specificity of his subject to suit his means. The film, which traces the tumultuous, fruitful, and troubled relationships of the director-actor of Klaus Kinski and himself, rarely goes into any background on Kinski. Kinski’s personal life is barely touched
on