Aguirre, the Wrath of God

This film was my introduction to Werner Herzog's ouevre, and what an introduction! From the first scene with the conquistadors coming down the mountain, to the final scene of Aguirre finally confirming his madness alone on the raft, one thing comes to mind: this is absurd! Brilliantly absurd.

Their quest is futile from the very start - there is no El Dorado. The ladies dressed in beautiful dresses, carried up and down mountains into and through the hostile jungle, the mutineers' letter to the King (that obviously no one will ever read), the mock trial, the "official" claiming of the land around the river... it's all so wonderfully absurd.

Klaus Kinski's performance is great, his evil scheming and then his increasingly obvious madness is played very well.

Some of my favourite scenes:

• The mutiny

• Aguirre speaks to his prisoner in the cage

• The horse is left on land

• The conquistadors find salt

• The finale

I finish the film thinking "what are they even doing there?", so out of their element, both literally and figuratively.

What were your takeaways of Aguirre, the Wrath of God?

Aguirre, The Wrath of God is deceptively complex.

What starts as a simple trek through the jungle slowly evolves into an exploration of madness and obsession. It’s a film full of intense, disturbing scenes that are camouflaged with lovely green scenery and sublime, naturalistic sound design. When you hear the loudness of the birds chirping and the repetitive splashing of water, you can’t help but feel enveloped on the same perilous journey with the characters -- and that makes the film all the more effective. For as maddening as scenes can become, the whole film is populated by this quaint silence that lets everything you’re viewing sink in. Not unlike the character of Aguirre himself, the film only becomes animated with violence and fury when necessary; the rest of the film is drenched in a type of retrospective silence.

As the film begins, it’s difficult to understand what director and writer Werner Herzog is going for. Before any characters are introduced, we see nothing but endless walking and morbid discussion of how unforgiving the jungle can be. Although this may seem like an odd way to start an introspective character study, Herzog’s emphasis on the conditions and fatality of the mission before introducing the characters shows how overwhelming the elements will be. After we become acquainted with Aguirre and the others on the mission, we begin to anticipate their response to these conditions. Tension arises from wondering if Aguirre’s determination and command over others will be enough to conquer nature, or if nature will gain the upper hand.

It’s a film that demands patience in the beginning, but slowly entraps the viewer until it’s near impossible to rip your eyes from the screen. I was invested in this film’s quiet presentation, the compelling power struggle between man and nature, and the exploration of the difference between determination and mad obsession. While I did have fond things to say about Herzog’s remake of Nosferatu, and his fascinating documentary on Timothy Treadwell, Aguirre was on another level. Rarely does a film feel this real, this dangerous. Aguirre, the Wrath of God is a film constantly moving forward with each scene changing the situation the characters are in.

Likewise, the film’s atmosphere is always changing. At times, Aguirre feels realistic, as if what we’re watching is captured footage of a real conquest, and other times the tone becomes dream-like, mystical. I was curious at the beginning and mesmerized by the end. If I could summarize the film in one word, it would be powerful. I hope Aguirre maintains that same power over me during a rewatch as I suspect it will.

Letterboxd Review:

IMDb:

"Wow" pretty much sums up everything I felt after watching Herzog's film. Like all of you, I watch a lot of films. But rarely, if ever, do I watch one nowadays (after having seen a lot of the greats) that transcends the experience of just "watching a movie." The film felt so deliberate and spiritual in its pacing and control of theme and character. It knew exactly how to control my emotions and thoughts. Kinski, while admittedly a pretty awful person in real life, gave such a complex and frightening performance of what it means to see oneself as God.

The journey through the tributary of the Amazon felt so isolated, yet alive and vibrant. The film's treatment of death was most similar, at least this is what I think right now, to Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey." It isn't some glorified moment, but rather a swift sword that happens in merely a moment. It was disorienting. I felt trapped on that raft.

**SPOILER**

In the end, when only Aguirre survives, the camera did something that just took my breath away. It became angelic, a Godlike figure that swept and rode down the river and around Aguirre. It was as if we, the audience, were transcending that river, just as Aguirre felt himself. It's so rare to see a filmmaker execute a moment like this, and wow Herzog really really did.

All in all, I'm still floored by the film. Will probably watch it again today and perhaps tomorrow as well. It's moments like these that remind why I both love this artistic medium with every ounce of my body, and why I'm pursuing a career in it. Thank you, Herzog.

EDIT: Spoiler notice

Aguirre, The Wrath of God is deceptively complex.

What starts as a simple trek through the jungle slowly evolves into an exploration of madness and obsession. It’s a film full of intense, disturbing scenes that are camouflaged with lovely green scenery and sublime, naturalistic sound design. When you hear the loudness of the birds chirping and the repetitive splashing of water, you can’t help but feel enveloped on the same perilous journey with the characters -- and that makes the film all the more effective. For as maddening as scenes can become, the whole film is populated by this quaint silence that lets everything you’re viewing sink in. Not unlike the character of Aguirre himself, the film only becomes animated with violence and fury when necessary; the rest of the film is drenched in a type of retrospective silence.

As the film begins, it’s difficult to understand what director and writer Werner Herzog is going for. Before any characters are introduced, we see nothing but endless walking and morbid discussion of how unforgiving the jungle can be. Although this may seem like an odd way to start an introspective character study, Herzog’s emphasis on the conditions and fatality of the mission before introducing the characters shows how overwhelming the elements will be. After we become acquainted with Aguirre and the others on the mission, we begin to anticipate their response to these conditions. Tension arises from wondering if Aguirre’s determination and command over others will be enough to conquer nature, or if nature will gain the upper hand.

It’s a film that demands patience in the beginning, but slowly entraps the viewer until it’s near impossible to rip your eyes from the screen. I was invested in this film’s quiet presentation, the compelling power struggle between man and nature, and the exploration of the difference between determination and mad obsession. While I did have fond things to say about Herzog’s remake of Nosferatu, and his fascinating documentary on Timothy Treadwell, Aguirre was on another level. Rarely does a film feel this real, this dangerous. Aguirre, the Wrath of God is a film constantly moving forward with each scene changing the situation the characters are in.

Likewise, the film’s atmosphere is always changing. At times, Aguirre feels realistic, as if what we’re watching is captured footage of a real conquest, and other times the tone becomes dream-like, mystical. I was curious at the beginning and mesmerized by the end. If I could summarize the film in one word, it would be powerful. I hope Aguirre maintains that same power over me during a rewatch as I suspect it will.

Letterboxd Review: