In both men's cases, the grandstanding postures have sometimes threatened to overshadow their original reasons for fame: Rodman is the best rebounder in basketball, and Herzog is considered a big dog in the New German Cinema -- not as big a dog as Rainer Werner Fassbinder, maybe, but certainly an important auteur.
This week, Houston film fans will have a chance to examine the different faces of Herzog in person. Today and Friday, he'll be visiting town under the auspices of the Goethe Institut Houston. To prepare for his arrival, in mid-September the Institut, along with the Museum of Fine Arts film department and the Rice University Media Center, began a Herzog film series that will continue through December 7. (For details on upcoming films, check the box on this page.) Herzog himself will speak before tonight's Scream of Stone and answer questions following tomorrow evening's Lessons of Darkness.
Those movies, one fiction (Stone) and one documentary fact (Darkness), were both made at the start of the '90s, and mark two poles of Herzog's art. Unlike many filmmakers, he's floated between fictional works and documentaries for most of his career, using the techniques of one to confuse expectations for the other. In recent years, he's spent less time on made-up life than on filming the real thing (and directing opera, another passion); 1991's Scream of Stone was the last fictional film he made, though he's done three documentaries since.
One could, and many have, simply learn the correct pronunciation of Herzog's name and go forth armed with the knowledge that using the term das neue Kino in certain coffee shops would help you get laid. But that's not really art appreciation, is it?
Last Saturday, Herzog fans were treated to one of his earliest efforts, Even Dwarfs Started Small, the movie that really put Herzog on the map. But this Friday's documentary could have a local appeal that reaches beyond area Herzog admirers. While ostensibly about the hellish aftermath of the Gulf War, it's really about Texan oil-well firefighters from the firm of Boots & Coots.
Shot during 1991 and '92, the 52 minute Lessons of Darkness is presented in 13 short segments. The first few are about devastation, both personal and environmental. We see women (not identified) who lost sons and husbands to soldiers. (What country's? We never know.) We see earth and sky as ash and soot, and gray dust contrasts with slick spills. As the camera swoops over the vast pools and their black reflections, Herzog, in an English voice-over, explains that none of the liquid in this dark sea is water; it is all oil. That level statement is presented with his elegant cinematography, a view that perfectly mocks coastal wetlands at sunset. It packs a punch, takes your breath away, gets to you. And Herzog is just warming up.
Herzog sets the scene, giving one a sense of place and history mostly by using his camera well. He's shooting from above (helicopters, even), shooting from ground level, using 360-degree pans and tracking shots that go on for days -- and you don't have to notice. Herzog might employ operatic extremes in his plots, yet his technical work is always mature and professional. What he does with all this camerawork is make sure that the audience is able to see what needs to be seen.
We see it. His camera flies over the landscape. To grand music we see the stagnant clots of oil and tire tracks everywhere, some looping like rivers and others crisscrossing one another to form geometric patterns on the burned earth. What does this mean? I don't think Herzog cares. They're just ... interesting.
We soon, however, get to what he cares about: cowboys. (Herzog has boasted of working as a "rodeo rider" after fleeing a brief stint at an American university.) The stars here are oil-well firefighters, the crazy men of Boots & Coots. These are the guys who mop up after the terror of war. With this crew of roughnecks riding into the terrible landscape with the heart and the means to restore order -- or else to play with fire -- Herzog is back on one of his favorite themes: what defines nobility? What defines lunacy? And is there a difference?
The firefighters have both genius and madness. Through a mirage of heat and against a sky of roiling dust and smoke, Herzog shows us these hardhats walking right into hell. Fires the size of skyscrapers burn furiously. A backhoe drives to the edge of the inferno and scoops out debris. In a ritual with the emotion and beauty of a ballet, the firefighters cool one another with low-pressure water hoses. Herzog presents not only the brute fact of this work but also conveys the feelings involved. These men display any number of noble qualities. They're stoic, earnest ... and sometimes whimsical. One guy sits on the ground, stuffs a hose down his suit and presents a vignette of well-earned rest that stops short only of swigging a cold beer.
This fireman has the madness to walk into fire and the genius to survive, and he ends up the quintessential Herzog character. He balances between lunacy and nobility. And he's kind of funny. Herzog seems to think that those who seek the sublime are both noble and nuts, and not without their charming quirks.
Scream of Stone also offers characters on such a path. It refers to -- if not parodies -- the mountain films of Arnold Franck, a director whose Nanook of the North-type features were wildly popular with German audiences of the 1920s. Franck's films exploited the magnificence of snowcapped peaks as backdrops for hokey adventures of fabulous characters. Herzog's 1991 film begins as a story about two such characters, Roger (Stefan Glowacz), who's climbed Everest several times, and Martin (Vittorio Mezzogiorno), a rangy young rock climber. They are going to climb Cerro Torre, a small yet treacherous mountain in Patagonia. The plot, and their rivalry over a girlfriend, is formulaic, but to it Herzog adds Ivan (Donald Sutherland), a guy who does TV sports shows. This gadfly, the creature responsible for the climbers' rivalry, is key, although equally key is Fingerless, an eccentric climber (Brad Dourif) whom Herzog presents to us as a babbling lunatic. It's he who describes Cerro Torre as "not a mountain, it's a scream of stone." And yet we learn that he's the guy we should be watching.
Herzog is willing to annoy the audience for a reason. Dourif's ragged lunatic shows up a couple of times, makes strange remarks and reads aloud a letter from Mae West. His "purpose" for mountain climbing is an homage to West, and he has no truck with those who say she's dead. I can't say why, but I can tell you that you need to pay attention to Dourif. In a Herzog film, nothing is incidental.
The Houston Herzog series continues through December 7, offering the German director's high seriousness, tenderness and wit. Today and Friday, film buffs get extra shows -- Werner Herzog himself, doing his own style of theatrics.
At 7:30 p.m. Thursday, October 17, Herzog introduces Scream of Stone at the Museum of Fine Arts, 1001 Bissonnet, 639-7515. Then at 6 p.m. Friday, October 18, Lessons of Darkness screens at the Rice Media Center (entrance no. 8 off University Boulevard), 527-4853, followed by a discussion with Herzog.
The remaining films in the series include: Ballad of the Little Soldier and Echoes from a Somber Empire, 7:30 p.m. October 25, MFA; Last Words and Fitzcarraldo, 7:30 p.m. November 2, Rice Media Center; Land of Silence and Darkness and Woyzeck, 7:30 p.m. November 16, Rice Media Center; and How Much Wood Would a Woodchuck Chuck? and Burden of Dreams, 7:30 p.m. December 7, Rice Media Center.
-- Edith Sorenson