Old Hollywood
Cinema
1900-1979
Nostalgia is a seductive liar - George Wildman Ball
Werner Herzog, speaking at the British Film Institute, watches a clip of Klaus Kinski in Aguirre: The Wrath of God (1972, dir. Werner Herzog) “[Werner] Herzog is a miserable, hateful, malevolent, avaricious, money-hungry, nasty, sadistic, treacherous, blackmailing, cowardly, thoroughly dishonest creep. His so-called ‘talent’ consists of nothing but tormenting helpless creatures and, if necessary, torturing them to death or simply murdering them. He doesn’t care about anyone or anything except his wretched career as a so-called filmmaker. Driven by a pathological addiction to sensationalism, he creates the most senseless difficulties and dangers, risking other people’s safety and even their lives -just so he can eventually say that he, Herzog, has beaten seemingly unbeatable odds. …If he wants to shoot another take because he, like most directors, is insecure, I tell him to go fuck himself. Every scene, every angle, every shot is determined by me, and I refuse to do anything unless I consider it right. So I can at least partly save the movie from being wrecked by Herzog’s lack of talent…He should catch the plague! Syphilis! Yellow fever! Leprosy! It’s no use; the more I wish him the most gruesome deaths, the more he haunts me.” -Klaus Kinski, via his autobiography Kinski Uncut “Kinski’s fits can partly be explained by his egocentric character. Egocentric is perhaps not the right word; he was an outright egomaniac. Whenever there was a serious accident, it became a big problem because, all of a sudden, he was no longer the center of attention. He was no longer important.[On the set of Fitzcarraldo], a lumberman was bitten by a snake while cutting a tree. This was the most dangerous snake of all. It only takes a few minutes before cardiac arrest occurs. He dropped the saw and thought about it for five seconds and then he grabbed his saw again and cut off his foot. It saved his life, because the camp and serum was 20 minutes away. When that happened, I knew Kinski would start raving  with some trifling excuse, because now he was just a marginal figure.In another incident, a plane crashed, which was bringing people here. Luckily, they all survived, but some were seriously injured. Kinski saw that he was no longer in demand. So, he threw a fit, because his coffee was only lukewarm that morning. For hours he screamed at me, that close to my face. Incredible. I didn’t know how to calm him down, and then I had an inspiration. I went to my hut, where, for months I had hidden a piece of chocolate. We would almost have killed one another for something like that. I went back to him, going right into his face and ate the chocolate. All of a sudden he was quiet. This was utterly beyond him. Kinski’s raving fits strained things with our Indian extras. They were Machiguengas, these two here, and a lot of Campas, too. Normally, they speak very softly and physical contacts are gentle. They were afraid. They would sit huddled together, whispering.Towards the end of shooting, the Indians offered to kill Kinski for me. They said: “Shall we kill him for you?” And I said: “No, for God’s sake! I still need him for shooting. Leave him to me!”I declined, at the time, but they were dead serious. They would have killed him, undoubtedly, if I had wanted it. I at once regretted that I held the Indians back from their purpose.” -Werner Herzog, via his documentary My Best Fiend (1999)

Werner Herzog, speaking at the British Film Institute, watches a clip of Klaus Kinski in Aguirre: The Wrath of God (1972, dir. Werner Herzog)

“[Werner] Herzog is a miserable, hateful, malevolent, avaricious, money-hungry, nasty, sadistic, treacherous, blackmailing, cowardly, thoroughly dishonest creep. His so-called ‘talent’ consists of nothing but tormenting helpless creatures and, if necessary, torturing them to death or simply murdering them. He doesn’t care about anyone or anything except his wretched career as a so-called filmmaker. Driven by a pathological addiction to sensationalism, he creates the most senseless difficulties and dangers, risking other people’s safety and even their lives -just so he can eventually say that he, Herzog, has beaten seemingly unbeatable odds.

…If he wants to shoot another take because he, like most directors, is insecure, I tell him to go fuck himself. Every scene, every angle, every shot is determined by me, and I refuse to do anything unless I consider it right. So I can at least partly save the movie from being wrecked by Herzog’s lack of talent…He should catch the plague! Syphilis! Yellow fever! Leprosy! It’s no use; the more I wish him the most gruesome deaths, the more he haunts me.”

-Klaus Kinski, via his autobiography Kinski Uncut

“Kinski’s fits can partly be explained by his egocentric character. Egocentric is perhaps not the right word; he was an outright egomaniac. Whenever there was a serious accident, it became a big problem because, all of a sudden, he was no longer the center of attention. He was no longer important.

[On the set of Fitzcarraldo], a lumberman was bitten by a snake while cutting a tree. This was the most dangerous snake of all. It only takes a few minutes before cardiac arrest occurs. He dropped the saw and thought about it for five seconds and then he grabbed his saw again and cut off his foot. It saved his life, because the camp and serum was 20 minutes away. When that happened, I knew Kinski would start raving  with some trifling excuse, because now he was just a marginal figure.

In another incident, a plane crashed, which was bringing people here. Luckily, they all survived, but some were seriously injured. Kinski saw that he was no longer in demand. So, he threw a fit, because his coffee was only lukewarm that morning. For hours he screamed at me, that close to my face. Incredible. I didn’t know how to calm him down, and then I had an inspiration. I went to my hut, where, for months I had hidden a piece of chocolate. We would almost have killed one another for something like that. I went back to him, going right into his face and ate the chocolate. All of a sudden he was quiet. This was utterly beyond him.

Kinski’s raving fits strained things with our Indian extras. They were Machiguengas, these two here, and a lot of Campas, too. Normally, they speak very softly and physical contacts are gentle. They were afraid. They would sit huddled together, whispering.

Towards the end of shooting, the Indians offered to kill Kinski for me. They said: “Shall we kill him for you?” And I said: “No, for God’s sake! I still need him for shooting. Leave him to me!”

I declined, at the time, but they were dead serious. They would have killed him, undoubtedly, if I had wanted it. I at once regretted that I held the Indians back from their purpose.”

-Werner Herzog, via his documentary My Best Fiend (1999)

“I have often spoken of what I call the inadequate imagery of today’s civilization. I have the impression that the images that surround us today are worn out; they are abused and useless and exhausted. They are limping and dragging themselves behind the rest of our cultural evolution. When I look at the postcards in tourist shops and the images and advertisements that surround us in magazines or I turn on the television, or if I walk into a travel agency and see those huge posters with that same tedious image of the Grand Canyon on them, I truly feel there is something dangerous emerging here. …As a race we have become aware of certain dangers that surround us. We comprehend, for example, that nuclear power is a real danger for mankind, that over-crowding of the planet is the greatest of all. We have understood that the destruction of the environment is another enormous danger. But I truly believe that the lack of adequate imagery is a danger of the same magnitude. It is as serious a defect as being without memory. What have we done to our images? What have we done to our embarrassed landscapes? I have said this before and will repeat it again as long as I am able to talk: if we do not develop adequate images we will die out like dinosaurs. Look at the depiction of Jesus in our iconography, unchanged since the vanilla ice-cream kitsch of the Nazarene school of painting in the late nineteenth century. These images alone are sufficient proof that Christianity is moribund. We need images in accordance with our civilization and our innermost conditioning, and this is the reason why I like any film that searches for new images no matter in what direction it moves or what story it tells. One must dig like an archaeologist and search our violated landscape to find anything new. It can sometimes be a struggle to find unprocessed and fresh images.” -Werner Herzog, quoted in Herzog on Herzog (photo by Beat Presser, c. 1981)

“I have often spoken of what I call the inadequate imagery of today’s civilization. I have the impression that the images that surround us today are worn out; they are abused and useless and exhausted. They are limping and dragging themselves behind the rest of our cultural evolution. When I look at the postcards in tourist shops and the images and advertisements that surround us in magazines or I turn on the television, or if I walk into a travel agency and see those huge posters with that same tedious image of the Grand Canyon on them, I truly feel there is something dangerous emerging here.

…As a race we have become aware of certain dangers that surround us. We comprehend, for example, that nuclear power is a real danger for mankind, that over-crowding of the planet is the greatest of all. We have understood that the destruction of the environment is another enormous danger. But I truly believe that the lack of adequate imagery is a danger of the same magnitude. It is as serious a defect as being without memory. What have we done to our images? What have we done to our embarrassed landscapes? I have said this before and will repeat it again as long as I am able to talk: if we do not develop adequate images we will die out like dinosaurs. Look at the depiction of Jesus in our iconography, unchanged since the vanilla ice-cream kitsch of the Nazarene school of painting in the late nineteenth century. These images alone are sufficient proof that Christianity is moribund.

We need images in accordance with our civilization and our innermost conditioning, and this is the reason why I like any film that searches for new images no matter in what direction it moves or what story it tells. One must dig like an archaeologist and search our violated landscape to find anything new. It can sometimes be a struggle to find unprocessed and fresh images.”

-Werner Herzog, quoted in Herzog on Herzog (photo by Beat Presser, c. 1981)

Land of Silence and Darkness (1971, dir. Werner Herzog) Q. Whenever I have presented this film to audiences, it has always made a tremendous impact. Why do you think the film strikes such a chord? Werner Herzog: People generally respond so positively to it because it is a film about solitude, about the terrifying difficulties of being understood by others, something we have to deal with every single day of our lives. In the film one finds the most radical and absolute human dignity, human suffering stripped bare. Land of Silence & Darkness is a film particularly close to my heart. If I had not made it there would be a great gap in my existence. Fini Straubinger, a 56-year-old deaf and blind woman, caused me to think about loneliness to an extent that I never had before. In her case, loneliness is taken to unimaginable limits, and I have the distinct impression that anyone seeing the film asks, ‘Good God, what would be left of my life if I were blind and deaf? How could I live, overcome loneliness make myself understood?’ And the question of how we learn concepts, learn languages, learn communication is also there. Q. Why did you want to include the children who had been born deaf and blind? Herzog: I thought it was important to show a different side to the story. Fini went deaf and blind when she was a teen, which clearly makes a difference in the kind of contact she had with the outside world. We will never know what these other kids think about the world about them, for there is just no way to communicate with them, and contact rarely surpasses the very basic palpable essentials: ‘This is a book. This is heat. Do you need food?’ [Helen Keller], who was born deaf and blind and actually studied philosophy raises many questions about what these children think and feel about abstract concepts, to say nothing of innate human emotions. It seems certain they do feel and understand emotions like anger and fear just like anyone else, but it is not possible for us to know how these children cope with the anonymous fears that are within and that can never be explained by the outside world. The children we filmed would have moments of deep fear that seemed to relate only to what was happening inside their own heads, which when you think about it is quite startling. -2002, excerpted from Herzog on Herzog. In the above still, Fini Straubinger demonstrates how she communicates using a tactile language tapped out on the hand.

Land of Silence and Darkness (1971, dir. Werner Herzog)

Q. Whenever I have presented this film to audiences, it has always made a tremendous impact. Why do you think the film strikes such a chord?

Werner Herzog: People generally respond so positively to it because it is a film about solitude, about the terrifying difficulties of being understood by others, something we have to deal with every single day of our lives. In the film one finds the most radical and absolute human dignity, human suffering stripped bare.

Land of Silence & Darkness is a film particularly close to my heart. If I had not made it there would be a great gap in my existence. Fini Straubinger, a 56-year-old deaf and blind woman, caused me to think about loneliness to an extent that I never had before.

In her case, loneliness is taken to unimaginable limits, and I have the distinct impression that anyone seeing the film asks, ‘Good God, what would be left of my life if I were blind and deaf? How could I live, overcome loneliness make myself understood?’ And the question of how we learn concepts, learn languages, learn communication is also there.

Q. Why did you want to include the children who had been born deaf and blind?

Herzog: I thought it was important to show a different side to the story. Fini went deaf and blind when she was a teen, which clearly makes a difference in the kind of contact she had with the outside world. We will never know what these other kids think about the world about them, for there is just no way to communicate with them, and contact rarely surpasses the very basic palpable essentials: ‘This is a book. This is heat. Do you need food?’

[Helen Keller], who was born deaf and blind and actually studied philosophy raises many questions about what these children think and feel about abstract concepts, to say nothing of innate human emotions.

It seems certain they do feel and understand emotions like anger and fear just like anyone else, but it is not possible for us to know how these children cope with the anonymous fears that are within and that can never be explained by the outside world. The children we filmed would have moments of deep fear that seemed to relate only to what was happening inside their own heads, which when you think about it is quite startling.

-2002, excerpted from Herzog on Herzog. In the above still, Fini Straubinger demonstrates how she communicates using a tactile language tapped out on the hand.

Psychology Today: Do you have any formal interest in psychology? Werner Herzog: I loathe psychology as one of the major faults of our civilization nowadays. There’s something not right about this amount of introspection. I can only give you a metaphor: When you move into an apartment, you cannot start to illuminate every last corner with neon light. If there are no dark corners or hidden niches, your house becomes uninhabitable. Human beings who are trying to self-reflect and explore their innermost being to the last corner become uninhabitable people. PT: Let’s not forget that psychology isn’t just about introspection; it can shed light on other people. Herzog: No, you can understand others by other means. By dint of compassion, you understand other people, and there is a concordance of hearts. That is something different. Move away from psychology and engage in concordance of hearts. (via, photo by Beat Presser)

Psychology Today: Do you have any formal interest in psychology?

Werner Herzog: I loathe psychology as one of the major faults of our civilization nowadays. There’s something not right about this amount of introspection. I can only give you a metaphor: When you move into an apartment, you cannot start to illuminate every last corner with neon light. If there are no dark corners or hidden niches, your house becomes uninhabitable. Human beings who are trying to self-reflect and explore their innermost being to the last corner become uninhabitable people.

PT: Let’s not forget that psychology isn’t just about introspection; it can shed light on other people.

Herzog: No, you can understand others by other means. By dint of compassion, you understand other people, and there is a concordance of hearts. That is something different. Move away from psychology and engage in concordance of hearts.

(via, photo by Beat Presser)

Klaus Kinski in Nosferatu the Vampyre (1978, dir. Werner Herzog) “Kinski loved the work and for pretty much the whole time on set he was happy, even though he would throw a tantrum maybe every other day. He was at ease with himself and the world at the time and loved to sit with his Japanese make-up artist Reiko Kruk for hours and hours. He would listen to Japanese music as she sculpted him every morning, putting his ears and fingernails on. We had to do the teeth and ears and shave his head every morning and just seeing him with this enormous patience was a fine sight. I would walk in and sit with him for fifteen minutes. We did not talk, we just looked at each other in the mirror and nodded at each other. He was good with the project, and he was good with himself. Though the film is close to two hours and Klaus is on screen for maybe seventeen minutes, his vampire dominates absolutely every single scene. That is the finest compliment I can give him for his performance. Everything in the film works towards these seventeen minutes. His character is constantly present because of the story and the images which intensify this sense of doom and terror and anxiety. It took fifty years to find a vampire to rival the one [F.W.] Murnau created, and I say that no one in the next fifty years will be able to play Nosferatu like Kinski has done. This is not a prophecy, rather an absolute certitude. I could give you fifty years and a million dollars to find someone better than Kinski and you would fail.” -Werner Herzog, quoted in Herzog on Herzog

Klaus Kinski in Nosferatu the Vampyre (1978, dir. Werner Herzog)

“Kinski loved the work and for pretty much the whole time on set he was happy, even though he would throw a tantrum maybe every other day. He was at ease with himself and the world at the time and loved to sit with his Japanese make-up artist Reiko Kruk for hours and hours. He would listen to Japanese music as she sculpted him every morning, putting his ears and fingernails on. We had to do the teeth and ears and shave his head every morning and just seeing him with this enormous patience was a fine sight. I would walk in and sit with him for fifteen minutes. We did not talk, we just looked at each other in the mirror and nodded at each other. He was good with the project, and he was good with himself.

Though the film is close to two hours and Klaus is on screen for maybe seventeen minutes, his vampire dominates absolutely every single scene. That is the finest compliment I can give him for his performance. Everything in the film works towards these seventeen minutes. His character is constantly present because of the story and the images which intensify this sense of doom and terror and anxiety. It took fifty years to find a vampire to rival the one [F.W.] Murnau created, and I say that no one in the next fifty years will be able to play Nosferatu like Kinski has done. This is not a prophecy, rather an absolute certitude. I could give you fifty years and a million dollars to find someone better than Kinski and you would fail.”

-Werner Herzog, quoted in Herzog on Herzog

Klaus Kinski & Isabelle Adjani in Nosferatu the Vampyre (1978, dir. Werner Herzog) (via) “I never thought of my film Nosferatu as being a remake. It stands on its own feet as an entirely new version..It is a very clear declaration of my connection to the very best of German cinema, and though I have never truly functioned in terms of genres, I did appreciate that making a film like Nosferatu meant understanding the basic principles about the vampire genre, and then asking, ‘How am I going to modify and develop this genre further?’ The images found in vampire films have a quality beyond our usual experiences in the cinema. For me genre means an intensive, almost dreamlike, stylization on screen, and I feel the vampire genre is one of the richest and most fertile cinema has to offer. There is fantasy, hallucination, dreams and nightmares, visions, fear and, of course, mythology. What I really sought to do was connect my Nosferatu with our true German cultural heritage, the silent films of the Weimar era, and [F.W.] Murnau’s work in particular.”  -Werner Herzog, quoted in Herzog on Herzog

Klaus Kinski & Isabelle Adjani in Nosferatu the Vampyre (1978, dir. Werner Herzog) (via)

“I never thought of my film Nosferatu as being a remake. It stands on its own feet as an entirely new version..It is a very clear declaration of my connection to the very best of German cinema, and though I have never truly functioned in terms of genres, I did appreciate that making a film like Nosferatu meant understanding the basic principles about the vampire genre, and then asking, ‘How am I going to modify and develop this genre further?’

The images found in vampire films have a quality beyond our usual experiences in the cinema. For me genre means an intensive, almost dreamlike, stylization on screen, and I feel the vampire genre is one of the richest and most fertile cinema has to offer. There is fantasy, hallucination, dreams and nightmares, visions, fear and, of course, mythology. What I really sought to do was connect my Nosferatu with our true German cultural heritage, the silent films of the Weimar era, and [F.W.] Murnau’s work in particular.” 

-Werner Herzog, quoted in Herzog on Herzog