David O'Connell
Stroszek
February 11th 2010 04:38
by Matt Shea
Other than Aguirre, the Wrath of God and Fitzcarraldo, perhaps the Werner Herzog film that invites the most discussion is his 1976 feature, Stroszek. There’s so much going on in the Bavarian filmmaker’s bizarre tale – so many metaphors for critics to fuss over and so many theories waiting to be sewn – it could be discussed for months on end.
But to think of the film in terms of how much it can be pulled apart is a little unfair. This is a heartfelt and illuminating tale, told with true soul and featuring a protagonist who carries an almost impossible amount of charm and tenderness. There’s a reason its closing line, “We can’t stop the dancing chicken”, is so popular with pop culture fetishists: the film lends itself to being watched and rewatched, not for infinitesimal analysis, but for the pure enjoyment of its endearingly oddball nature.
At the centre of the story is Stroszek himself, played, in perhaps the greatest ever piece of non-acting, by Bruno S. Indeed, the personal history of Bruno S. informs the entire picture: The illegitimate son of a prostitute and beaten so badly as a child that he was deaf for a time, S. spent most of his years between the ages of 3 and 26 inside mental institutions. A gruelling upbringing, it was one that eventually produced a man of intense focus and narrow social skills.
Herzog essentially kept these experiences intact for the onscreen character of Bruno, and at certain points in the film S. recounts real experiences as the character’s own, the most striking of these being his childhood tale of having to stand in front of his fellow interns, holding his bed-wet sheets until they were dry.
The relationship between filmmaker and star is perhaps one of the most interesting aspects of Stroszek. Listening to and reading about Herzog’s experiences making the film, there was nothing exploitative in his relationship with Bruno S.. On the contrary, Herzog seems to have an endless admiration for the man, fascinated that his experiences didn’t shape some sort of monstrous sociopath, but a quietly inquisitive individual of steady gaze and almost saintly virtue.
And so Bruno S. never leaves the centre stage of Stroszek, Herzog sticking like glue to his protagonist from the claustrophobic slums of Berlin early in the film to the frosted plains of Wisconsin that become its second half milieu.
In the opening scenes, Bruno is being released back into society after another interminable period in prison. It’s here that we first sense the affection that the man is capable of bringing out in others, as both fellow prisoners and officers seem reluctant to see him go.
After his release, Bruno meets an old acquaintance, Eva (Eva Mattes), a prostitute, who is being put upon by her ruthless pimps. Bruno, ever compassionate, offers to take in Eva, but it puts the two of them and his elderly neighbour, Scheitz (Clemens Scheitz) in continual danger of violent harassment from the prowling panders. Following further attacks, the oddball trio decide to move on a dream already discussed, and pack their belongings to travel to Wisconsin, far away in the American Midwest, and live with Scheitz’s mechanic nephew.
Of course, things aren’t necessarily going to be any better in the United States, and as Bruno, Eva and Scheitz try to capture the American dream their fragile social pact is in danger of falling apart all together.
Many critics have attacked Herzog over the years for what they interpret as Stroszek’s negative portrayal of Midwest life, but it’s a flawed way to view the film. The slums from which the trio escape are no better than mobile house they eventually end up in, and Herzog has an almost open admiration for what would locally be considered a blue-collar American existence. The town to which Bruno and his friends move is called Railway Flats, but in reality Herzog and his crew shot in and around Plainfield, a desolate place that had become known for a spate of mass murders. The filmmaker explained his attraction to the town in his book, Herzog on Herzog, thus: "You have these points in the United States - for example, Las Vegas, or the Stock Exchange on Wall Street, or San Quentin prison - where the dreams and nightmares all come together. And I count Plainfield, Wisconsin, amongst them."
Strangely enough, despite his inability to deal with modern life on his own, it is Bruno who correctly predicts the misfortune that is about to befall he and his friends. He’s both the logical and emotional centre of the film, and his limitations of expression sometimes seem a blessing as he manages to describe the troubles of his, Eva and Scheitz’s situation in the most elegant of terms.
As such, there’s a beautiful, delicate sadness running through Stroszek, but it speaks volumes about the skill of Herzog that the film never becomes difficult to watch. He and his cinematographer, Thomas Mauch, mirror their protagonist in the way they shoot the film – simple, natural, thoughtful setups being mixed with flowing handheld work – and Beate Mainka-Jellinghaus’s skill in the editing suite laces together the visuals with a fascinating elegance.
Adding to the puddle-hopping nature of the film is a warm-hearted human comedy that flows throughout most of its running time. It helps redeem the crushing sorrow that you know is coming, the audience forever laughing with Bruno rather than at him as he gets pulled into increasingly ridiculous situations. It’s an aspect of the picture that’s too often forgotten, but this good humour acts as an important foil to the most profound moments, such as the dancing chicken at the end of the film – a frightening visual motif on the absurdity of life – or Bruno’s visit to a maternity ward: the resident doctor showing us a seemingly defenceless premature infant’s determination to live when it latches on to his fingers so tight that the baby can actually be lifted out of the incubator by its tiny hands.
And that’s probably Herzog’s main concern with Stroszek: the tenacity of human beings when faced with the absurdity of every day life. Even as he marches towards a quietly tragic fate, Stroszek – this man of clarified purposed and purified spirit – maintains a happy determination to tackle life and distil the best from his sorry lot. It makes Stroszek a beautifully tender experience and a skilfully woven treatise on the virtues of the human condition.
I say: Perhaps Herzog’s most tender picture, this is truly priceless filmmaking and should be dug up by any film nut yet to see it.
See it for: The tender, beautiful and very funny Bruno S. – a living embodiment of the brighter side of the human race.
Stroszek is now available on DVD from Umbrella Entertainment
Check out the hospital scene from the film below:
*This image is from Chained and Perfumed
Other than Aguirre, the Wrath of God and Fitzcarraldo, perhaps the Werner Herzog film that invites the most discussion is his 1976 feature, Stroszek. There’s so much going on in the Bavarian filmmaker’s bizarre tale – so many metaphors for critics to fuss over and so many theories waiting to be sewn – it could be discussed for months on end.
But to think of the film in terms of how much it can be pulled apart is a little unfair. This is a heartfelt and illuminating tale, told with true soul and featuring a protagonist who carries an almost impossible amount of charm and tenderness. There’s a reason its closing line, “We can’t stop the dancing chicken”, is so popular with pop culture fetishists: the film lends itself to being watched and rewatched, not for infinitesimal analysis, but for the pure enjoyment of its endearingly oddball nature.
At the centre of the story is Stroszek himself, played, in perhaps the greatest ever piece of non-acting, by Bruno S. Indeed, the personal history of Bruno S. informs the entire picture: The illegitimate son of a prostitute and beaten so badly as a child that he was deaf for a time, S. spent most of his years between the ages of 3 and 26 inside mental institutions. A gruelling upbringing, it was one that eventually produced a man of intense focus and narrow social skills.
Herzog essentially kept these experiences intact for the onscreen character of Bruno, and at certain points in the film S. recounts real experiences as the character’s own, the most striking of these being his childhood tale of having to stand in front of his fellow interns, holding his bed-wet sheets until they were dry.
The relationship between filmmaker and star is perhaps one of the most interesting aspects of Stroszek. Listening to and reading about Herzog’s experiences making the film, there was nothing exploitative in his relationship with Bruno S.. On the contrary, Herzog seems to have an endless admiration for the man, fascinated that his experiences didn’t shape some sort of monstrous sociopath, but a quietly inquisitive individual of steady gaze and almost saintly virtue.
And so Bruno S. never leaves the centre stage of Stroszek, Herzog sticking like glue to his protagonist from the claustrophobic slums of Berlin early in the film to the frosted plains of Wisconsin that become its second half milieu.
In the opening scenes, Bruno is being released back into society after another interminable period in prison. It’s here that we first sense the affection that the man is capable of bringing out in others, as both fellow prisoners and officers seem reluctant to see him go.
After his release, Bruno meets an old acquaintance, Eva (Eva Mattes), a prostitute, who is being put upon by her ruthless pimps. Bruno, ever compassionate, offers to take in Eva, but it puts the two of them and his elderly neighbour, Scheitz (Clemens Scheitz) in continual danger of violent harassment from the prowling panders. Following further attacks, the oddball trio decide to move on a dream already discussed, and pack their belongings to travel to Wisconsin, far away in the American Midwest, and live with Scheitz’s mechanic nephew.
Of course, things aren’t necessarily going to be any better in the United States, and as Bruno, Eva and Scheitz try to capture the American dream their fragile social pact is in danger of falling apart all together.
Many critics have attacked Herzog over the years for what they interpret as Stroszek’s negative portrayal of Midwest life, but it’s a flawed way to view the film. The slums from which the trio escape are no better than mobile house they eventually end up in, and Herzog has an almost open admiration for what would locally be considered a blue-collar American existence. The town to which Bruno and his friends move is called Railway Flats, but in reality Herzog and his crew shot in and around Plainfield, a desolate place that had become known for a spate of mass murders. The filmmaker explained his attraction to the town in his book, Herzog on Herzog, thus: "You have these points in the United States - for example, Las Vegas, or the Stock Exchange on Wall Street, or San Quentin prison - where the dreams and nightmares all come together. And I count Plainfield, Wisconsin, amongst them."
Strangely enough, despite his inability to deal with modern life on his own, it is Bruno who correctly predicts the misfortune that is about to befall he and his friends. He’s both the logical and emotional centre of the film, and his limitations of expression sometimes seem a blessing as he manages to describe the troubles of his, Eva and Scheitz’s situation in the most elegant of terms.
As such, there’s a beautiful, delicate sadness running through Stroszek, but it speaks volumes about the skill of Herzog that the film never becomes difficult to watch. He and his cinematographer, Thomas Mauch, mirror their protagonist in the way they shoot the film – simple, natural, thoughtful setups being mixed with flowing handheld work – and Beate Mainka-Jellinghaus’s skill in the editing suite laces together the visuals with a fascinating elegance.
Adding to the puddle-hopping nature of the film is a warm-hearted human comedy that flows throughout most of its running time. It helps redeem the crushing sorrow that you know is coming, the audience forever laughing with Bruno rather than at him as he gets pulled into increasingly ridiculous situations. It’s an aspect of the picture that’s too often forgotten, but this good humour acts as an important foil to the most profound moments, such as the dancing chicken at the end of the film – a frightening visual motif on the absurdity of life – or Bruno’s visit to a maternity ward: the resident doctor showing us a seemingly defenceless premature infant’s determination to live when it latches on to his fingers so tight that the baby can actually be lifted out of the incubator by its tiny hands.
And that’s probably Herzog’s main concern with Stroszek: the tenacity of human beings when faced with the absurdity of every day life. Even as he marches towards a quietly tragic fate, Stroszek – this man of clarified purposed and purified spirit – maintains a happy determination to tackle life and distil the best from his sorry lot. It makes Stroszek a beautifully tender experience and a skilfully woven treatise on the virtues of the human condition.
I say: Perhaps Herzog’s most tender picture, this is truly priceless filmmaking and should be dug up by any film nut yet to see it.
See it for: The tender, beautiful and very funny Bruno S. – a living embodiment of the brighter side of the human race.
Stroszek is now available on DVD from Umbrella Entertainment
Check out the hospital scene from the film below:
*This image is from Chained and Perfumed
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Comment by David O'Connell
20/20 Filmsight
Screen Fanatic
Great stuff mate, in the last couple of years 20/20 has been taking the man's back-catelogue to pieces!
Comment by Matt Shea
Comment by Cibbuano
Hunt Famous
Orble Post of the Day
Fat Cult
Techbreak
...now you'll have to watch Kaspar Hauser! What a trip!
Comment by Matt Shea