Programme Notes
Werner Herzog made five films starring Klaus Kinski. No other director
ever worked with him more than once. Midway in their first film, Aguirre,
the Wrath of God (1973), Kinski threatened to walk off the set, deep
in the Amazon rain forest, and Herzog said he would shoot him dead if
he did. Kinski claims in his autobiography that he had the gun, not
Herzog.
Herzog says that's a lie. Kinski describes Herzog in the book as a "nasty,
sadistic, treacherous, cowardly creep." Herzog says in the film
that Kinski knew his autobiography would not sell unless he said shocking
things - so Herzog helped him look up vile words he could use in describing
the director.
And so it goes on, almost a decade after Kinski's death, the unending
love-hate relationship between the visionary German filmmaker and his
muse and nemesis in five films. Herzog's new documentary "My Best
Fiend" traces their history together. They had one of the most
fruitful and troubled relationships of any director-actor team.
Together they made Aguirre, about a mad conquistador in the Peruvian
jungle; Fitzcarraldo, about a man who used block-and-tackle to pull
a steamship from one Amazonian river system to another; Nosferatu (1979),
inspired by Murnau's silent vampire classic; Woyzeck (1979), about a
19th century army private who seems mad to others because he sees the
world in his own alternative way, and Cobra Verde (1988), about a slave
trader in Africa. All of their collaborations contain extraordinary
images, but the sight of Kinski running wild inside an army of naked,
spear-carrying amazons in Cobra Verde may be the strangest.
Reviewing Woyzeck, I wrote: "It is almost impossible to imagine
Kinski without Herzog; reflect that this unforgettable' actor made more
than 170 films for other directors--and we can hardly remember a one."
Consider, too, that their strange bond began long before Herzog stood
behind a camera.
Herzog told me how they met. When he was 12, he said, "I was playing
in the courtyard of the building where we lived in Munich, and I looked
up and saw this man striding past, and I knew at that moment that my
destiny was to direct films, and that he would be the actor." Kinski
was known for his scorn of both films and acting, and claimed to choose
projects entirely on the basis of how comfortable he would be on
the location. Yet when Herzog summoned him to the rain forest for Aguirre,
where he would have to march through the jungle wearing Spanish armour
and end up on a sinking raft with gibbering monkeys, he accepted. Why?
I asked him once, and he replied grimly: "It was my fate."
Herzog believes in shooting on location, arguing that specific places
have a voodoo that penetrates the film. "Fitzcarraldo" could
have been shot in comfort, not 900 miles up the Amazon, with special
effects and a
model boat--but Herzog insisted on isolating his crew, and in hauling
a real boat up a real hill. When engineers warned him the ropes would
snap and cut everyone in two, he dismissed the engineers. That's all
the more intriguing when you learn that Kinski was even more hated than
Herzog on
the location.
In "My Best Fiend," Herzog recalls that local Indians came
to him with an offer to kill Kinski. "I needed Kinski for a few
more shots, so I turned them down," he says. "I have always
regretted that I lost that pportunity."
He learned early about Kinski's towering rages. The actor actually lived
for several months in the same flat with Herzog's family, and once locked
himself in the bathroom for two days, screaming all the while and reducing
the porcelain fixtures "to grains the size of sand." Only
once, on "Aguirre," was he able to fully contain his anger
in his character--perhaps because Aguirre was as mad as Kinski--and
there he gave one of the great performances in the cinema. Herzog revisits
the original locations, recalling fights they had and showing the specific
scenes that were shot just afterward.
There must have been good times, too, although Herzog only shows one
of them--a happy day at the Telluride Film Festival. "My Best Fiend"
suffers a little by not having footage to cover more of Herzog's sharpest
memories (Les Blank's legendary documentary "Burden of Dreams,"
shot on location during "Fitzcarraldo," shows the two men
at each other's throats).
But as a meditation by a director on an actor, it is unique; most show-biz
docs involve the ritual exchange of compliments. "My Best Fiend"
is about two men who both wanted to be dominant, who both had all the
answers, who were inseparably bound together in love and hate, and who
created extraordinary work--while all the time each resented the other's
contribution.
BY ROGER EBERT
Chicago Sun-Times Inc
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