My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done - "Razzle Dazzle Them."

There’s no rhyme or reason for why I write about certain movies right now. I have plenty of articles planned, but even those are poorly timed. For instance, I’m currently working through every single James Bond movie and plan on ranking each Bond actor’s set of films. But why now? Craig ended his run over nearly two years ago, and who knows when the next Bond will be announced? But it’s what I’m doing because I watched Casino Royale a few weeks ago, and I decided to just keep going. For this article, it was because I came across a YouTube video of Michael Shannon picking out movies from the Criterion Collection’s closet. Anyway, I just felt the need to kind of explain why I write about some of this stuff at seemingly random times.

“Razzle Dazzle Them.”

I first noticed Michael Shannon in Tigerland, and something about the edge in his voice and the intensity of his face has stuck with me ever since. So when I found out he was going to be the star of a Werner Herzog movie, I was very excited. This happened when my love of Herzog was at its apex. I had just gotten into his Kinski movies, and I loved Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (which Shannon also had a small part in). In other words, My Son, My Son came out at the perfect time for me. And the plot, based on the true story of a mentally unstable man who killed his mother with a sword after becoming obsessed with a play (Orestes) he was in, seemed perfect for Shannon’s intensity and Herzog’s dark sense of humor.

This is very much Herzog’s film, but Shannon is the main draw for me. Like most people aware of Shannon, I am a fan of his darker, angrier roles. While he gets to yell all kinds of crazy shit in this movie, it’s actually the more quiet, strange moments that are lasting. Herzog decides a couple times in the film to just bring things to halt and have the characters just exist in the scene, sometimes staring into the camera. It makes no sense, but it’s perfect somehow because Michael Shannon simply staring at you through the screen is effective.

Shannon’s entire performance is surprisingly understated despite the loud moments of the film. Yes, he yells and pivots wildly from emotion to emotion at times. But the moments of his performance that stick with you are when he’s staring off into space, trying to work out what is happening in his head. Playing crazy can be an easy performance for many actors the same way playing a villain can be: you get to be loud and bold. Nuance can go out the window. But a truly great insane performance will feature both. 

As much as I would like to see Michael Shannon marching around a house jabbering away while he holds two flamingos hostage (that is actually a major portion of this movie), it’s the quiet moments with Shannon trying to work out his insanity that stick with me. 

Not as Weird as You’d Think, but Still Pretty Fuckin’ Weird

The true story of this film is enough to make it weird, but when Werner Herzog became attached, this truly became a weird project. Then it became a “David Lynch Presents” film, and my weird expectations went through the roof. But when faced with the crazy possibilities of a Herzog/Lynch team-up for a true story of matricide, the actual project ended up being shockingly coherent.

First off, this is much more faithful to the true story than you might expect, so there is a little devotion to what actually happened. Second, and more importantly, David Lynch was only involved in helping finance the film; he didn’t write anything, and he was never on set. 

I was not disappointed by the lack of Lynch. I like some Lynch, but I’m a bigger fan of Herzog. And it’s not like Herzog has ever been labeled as a normal filmmaker. He’s all the weird I need for a film like this.

Herzog definitely brings some oddness to the film. There are the aforementioned flamingos, and most of Shannon’s dialogue is classic “crazy guy” stuff. Then there are the pauses in which the characters either freeze or just stand there staring at the camera. I found it all to be effective rather than just weird for weird’s sake, however. 

More important than bringing weirdness to the film, Herzog brings his usual dark humor to the project. This is tricky since this is based on a real murder, and it’s in poor taste to make light of that. Thankfully, the humor has nothing to do with the murder. Most of it is just the result of a much needed relief to Shannon’s insane intensity. You need to be able to laugh at some of this stuff or the tension would make it unwatchable. A lot of the humor comes from the idiosyncrasies of Shannon’s performance. But the comedic heavy lifting falls on Dafoe and Michael Peña as the detectives responding to the murder. 

They feel like they’re in a different movie that collided with this one. Dafoe’s straightforward handling of all the crazy shit going on makes for some funny moments. And Peña plays an overzealous rookie who tries multiple times to do some stupid shit, like lacing a pizza with sleeping pills or offering himself up as a hostage, and he gets shut down immediately. 

If you don’t like this movie (first off, how and why the fuck did you find this article?), then it probably seems like I’m trying to make excuses to like this movie. Because, typically, when two characters seem to be in a different movie than the main character, that would be a problem. But I sincerely believe that Herzog is going for some absurdity of life shit here, and I find it more funny than baffling. 

I like weird movies as much as anyone (and I know it’s lazy to keep referring to this film, and Herzog and Lynch films in general, as “weird,” but I am lazy, so there), but there has to be some enjoyment involved, as well. When David Lynch goes all in, like with Inland Empire, it’s just not for me. It’s too inaccessible. So the “David Lynch Presents” being a bit of a misrepresentation was a relief to me, while I imagine others were disappointed that the movie was surprisingly straightforward. But I prefer Werner Herzog’s type of weird, and there’s plenty of it in My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done.

Random Thoughts / Favorite Quotes

“And Brad Dourif as Uncle Ted” is one of my favorite “And”s in recent memory.

Don’t know why, but a disgruntled Michael Shannon sitting at a drum set he refuses to play makes me laugh.

“He’s claiming his name is Farouk. He shouts about God and tosses oatmeal at us.”

I’m not sure any actor can transition from rage to gentleness in the same scene as convincingly as Shannon.

“This Jell-O looks hideous.”

If you only watch one movie in which an ostrich tries to eat Udo Kier’s glasses, make it this one.

No way would I drive Michael Shannon around while he’s holding a fucking sword and quoting the Bible.

It’s nice that the movie has a few moments when the actors stand still, sometimes looking directly into the camera, that give you a chance to decide if you want to keep watching this wacky shit.

So Brad Dourif had a plan: he would buy a tiny horse (think Lil’ Sebastian from Parks and Rec), which a little person would ride, and his giant chicken, Willard, would chase the horse around the biggest tree in the world. This was going to be a commercial, though Dourif doesn’t know for what, but it would make a “lot of money.” I watch a lot of weird shit, so I’m pretty used to the idea that creative people come up with some nonsensical shit. But this is one of those rare moments that make me stop and wonder, “How the fuck did someone actually come up with this scene?”

According to Wikipedia, Herzog and Shannon went to China to film a scene in a market without permits, and the scene has nothing to do with the story aside from it being a scene in which Shannon’s character feels uneasy. This is the kind of nonsense that makes me love Herzog.

IMDb claims Dave Bautista is one of the SWAT guys at the end, but I couldn’t spot him.  

Jungle Cruise - What If Werner Herzog Made a Disney Adventure?

It’s been a while, but my seemingly yearly burnout has come to an end, and I’m writing about movies again. I don’t technically own Jungle Cruise, but I do have Disney+, which the film will eventually be a part of without an extra fee. Also, thanks to the studios realizing that digital screeners are a good idea, I was actually able to watch this at home rather than drive three hours to the nearest theater providing an advance screening, so it inspired me to write about a new movie for a change. Here are my thoughts.

A Sleepy Movie

Jungle Cruise is the latest attempt by Disney to turn one of its famous rides into a movie franchise a la Pirates of the Caribbean. Though it’s unlikely that Jungle Cruise will turn into the unwieldy juggernaut that the Pirates films became, it is still a very solid, and very predictable and plain, summer film. 

Predictable and plain are not typically considered a good thing when it comes to film, but in this case it was oddly refreshing. Jungle Cruise attempts to be a modern twist on classic adventure films of the 1940s. It’s a classic adventure in that the story is very simple. In 1916, a doctor (Emily Blunt) enlists the help of a con artist boat captain (Dwayne Johnson) to navigate the treacherous Amazon River in search of a fabled tree that has flowers said to be able to cure any ailment. Of course, other nefarious parties (an evil German [because why not?] and cursed conquistadors) want to find the tree, as well. Adventure, romance, action, and hijinks ensue.

The modern twist of it all lies only in some minor character elements. Emily Blunt is a woman who dares to wear pants! Which is such a big deal that “Pants” becomes her name for much of the film. Another character is gay...in 1916! And...that’s pretty much it. These elements are a bit gimmicky, but they do add another layer to a simple film. The homosexual reveal is easily the most emotional moment in the film. And the misogyny of the time is rightfully mocked (a historical society has no issue with the idea of 400-year-old cursed conquistadors [I really like typing the phrase “cursed conquistadors”], but is outraged at the idea of a female tribal chief). These elements don’t elevate Jungle Cruise beyond being a simple adventure, but they are a nice touch.

What makes all of this oddly refreshing is that Jungle Cruise is as relaxing as its title suggests. This movie is the cinematic equivalent of floating down a river. Certainly, that could be a negative experience for anyone seeking more from the film, but if you’re in this for a couple hours of distraction and not much else, then it’s exactly what you want from a summer movie. The best comparison would be to the National Treasure movies. Much like those Nicolas Cage films, there’s nothing about Jungle Cruise that’s annoying enough to hate, and even though the story isn’t as interesting (I just prefer American history, even when it’s mostly made up, to be more interesting than jungle curses), it’s just entertaining enough to enjoy.

Jungle Cruise is a good example of a sleeping movie. If you’re like me, you like to put on a movie or TV show as you fall asleep of an evening. I always try to pick something interesting enough to watch, but simple enough to fall asleep to. If I put on Aguirre, the Wrath of God at midnight, it’ll keep me up for the entire running time. But if I put on Jungle Cruise (once it’s available on Disney+ without a fee), I’ll be asleep before they even get on the boat, and that is the kind of movie I need Jungle Cruise to be.

A Werner Herzog Disney  Film

Jungle Cruise appeals to me beyond its simplicity. I’m a sucker for boat-trips-on-a-river movies. Apocalypse Now, Aguirre, and Fitzcarraldo are among my favorite films of all time. I guess it’s the sense of exploring the unknown, but the visuals of the dense, dangerous river and forest coupled with main characters on dangerous and/or insane quests just hit the cinematic sweet spot for me. That’s why Jungle Cruise is such a fun oddity to me. It features the plot points of one of the Werner Herzog films (Aguirre and Fitzcarraldo), but rather than focus on insanity or blind determination as those films do, this film is instead a family-friendly adventure. It’s as if Werner Herzog made a film for Disney.

Herzog is one of the most varied filmmakers of all time because he is interested in humanity in all its forms. It’s not impossible that he would make a fun Disney film, but it is very unlikely. Because of that, Jungle Cruise will always be an interesting watch for me as I compare it to Herzog’s river movies, and wonder what he would do differently. I like to imagine that he would try to insert more dark humor and a bit more of a focus on insanity. For instance, Dwayne Johnson’s character (SPOILERS from here on out), revealed to be one of the undead, cursed conquistadors, could be portrayed as genuinely insane due to his centuries-long life on the river rather than the pun-spewing con artist he is in the film. Johnson is a stronger actor than he is given credit for, and when allowed to go a bit crazy, he can turn in a memorable performance. Instead, he’s just the Rock on a boat.

But maybe Herzog wouldn’t have been meant to direct such a film. He has turned up as an actor here and there, most notably as a villain in Jack Reacher and The Mandalorian. I liked Jesse Plemons’s manic performance as the crazed German prince in this film (even if I somehow missed just why he is crazed aside from the need to turn any German villain in a film set in the early 20th century into a crazy person), but imagine Werner Herzog in the role instead. He would be much more menacing, and he can seem crazy without going big. I just picture Herzog talking to a bee (as Plemons does late in the film), and I think of the missed opportunity.

Herzog in The Mandalorian is probably the most Disney we will ever get, but at least Jungle Cruise provided me enough to wonder what could have been.

Random Thoughts/Favorite Quotes

Didn’t expect this to start with an orchestral version of Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters.”

I prefer Werner Herzog’s story of Aguirre.

This would be a very different movie if those swords Emily Blunt knocked down at the beginning killed those dudes, but then Jesse Plemons wouldn’t have anyone to kill…

Within the first ten minutes I got some Aguirre (because, well, Aguirre is a character), The Mummy (because of the academic love interest with a dipshit brother), Pirates of the Caribbean (because of the curse), The Lost City of Z (because of the Amazon and the historical society stuff), and Fitzcarraldo (because of the boat) vibes.

“Might be me. Warm, liquid fear.”

That jaguar scene looked bad, and was pretty fucking pointless. How does fighting a jaguar prove that the Rock can successfully navigate the Amazon? I’m glad it’s revealed that he set the whole thing up since the fight was so ridiculous, but it definitely felt like tacked on shit because there hadn’t been enough “action” yet in the film.

Is Paul Giammatti just the go-to now when a film needs an extra, unnecessary villain?

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. Which clearly isn't very far, because you are huge." At over an hour in, this is only the second time anyone has mentioned the gigantic stature of the Rock. I kind of like that they mostly ignore it, but it's also more plausible to believe in a curse that turns a conquistador into a bee monster than it is to ignore what the Rock looks like compared to other humans.

Even as a snake monster, this Aguirre isn't as crazy as Kinski's version.

Jesse Plemons is having a very good time playing the evil German.

I honestly don’t understand how the flowers at the end of the film work exactly, and why they can’t just get a ton of them. But, in the film’s defense, I kind of shut down during some of the exposition in the later part of the movie.

..

Herzog/Kinski #6: "My Best Fiend"

Here’s the final reminder that Klaus Kinski is a piece of shit, which is probably more important for this film more than any other since Herzog does try to humanize him a bit, especially by ending the film with Kinski playing with a butterfly. Also, I write every article under the assumption that the reader has seen the movie, so SPOILERS, although that’s not that big of a deal for a documentary of this type.

I almost skipped writing about My Best Fiend because I was worried there wouldn’t be much to write about...and I was kind of right. This will be my shortest article about the Herzog/Kinski collection because it’s a movie about them rather than a movie by them.

Also, this will be shorter than most because I’m honestly just a bit sick of Herzog and Kinski at this point. Even though I took a while to get through the collection, it still ended up being too much too soon. In hindsight, I wish I had spaced this out doing one a month in between other films. Too late now, though, so here goes.

Seems more about Herzog than Kinski

The most interesting thing about this film is that Herzog ends up being more interesting than Kinski. This is partly because I already read about or heard (through commentaries) Kinski’s craziness. Sure, there are a few scenes in My Best Fiend that show this off (a Kinski meltdown over food on the set of Fitzcarraldo comes to mind), but overall I learned more about Herzog than Kinski.

I had already come to the conclusion that Herzog is just as disturbed as Kinski because he chose to work with the man, and tended to manipulate Kinski’s erratic behavior to get a performance he wanted. There’s an emotional detachment in Herzog’s treatment of Kinski that I find troubling. In that scene I mentioned above, Herzog just calmly walks around while Kinski goes on and on, and eventually just moves on with the next scene. He has no interesting in stopping anything; he’s only worried about his film.

According to Herzog himself, the natives on the set of Fitzcarraldo were more frightened by him than Kinski because of his calm demeanor. Herzog is extremely self-aware, though. He knows he is like some of the characters Kinski portrayed. He worked with Kinski because he lacked the ability to play the parts himself, even though he was willing to to get the films made. They needed each other, in a sick kind of way.

Would I own this if it wasn’t part of the collection?

No, but it is a good documentary. I just don’t rewatch documentaries very often, and it’s unlikely that I revisit this one.

Random Thoughts

Some reviews claim this is an unfair movie because Herzog gets to talk about Kinski the madman without a rebuttal. I can see that.

“There was indescribable chaos.”

Kinski wanted to use the location of Macchu Picchu to full effect, Herzog disagrees. I’m with Kinski on this one. Why go to such a beautiful place but only use it partially. According to Herzog, that would not be real. I guess...

Kinski called Herzog a megalomaniac, and Herzog said, “that makes two of us.” Yup.

The “unbridgeable gap" between them dealt with nature, which I find hilarious for some reason. Herzog thought Kinski was a poser when it came to his love of nature.

Copulating with a tree? That little segment of Kinski in the jungle really pissed Herzog off.

Kinski finds nature erotic. Of course, Herzog, the uber German that he is, finds nature harmonious, but miserable.

Herzog saying he loves the jungle comes across so angrily.

Herzog admits to provoking him. What does this say about him? But Herzog thinks Kinski secretly wanted this.

So, like the jungle, their relationship is harmonious but also violent and miserable.

“I'm quite sane, clinically sane, so to speak.”

“I seriously planned to firebomb him in his house.”

Herzog truly considers himself Fitzcarraldo. He talks of everyone but him giving up until they saw the ship move.

Talking about the ship being moved up the hill, Herzog says it's a great metaphor. He's not sure what the metaphor is, but he knows it's a good one. That sums up a lot of his work.

Herzog/Kinski #5: "Cobra Verde"

Here’s your reminder that Klaus Kinski was a piece of shit. Also, I write these articles under the assumption that you’ve seen the film, so...SPOILERS.

The Last Film

I finally made it to the last collaboration between Werner Herzog and Klaus Kinski (I am going to include the documentary My Best Fiend for my final Herzog/Kinski post, since it is part of the collection I own): Cobra Verde. Aside from My Best Fiend, this was the film I was most looking forward to rewatching because it’s been so long since I’ve seen it that I had nearly forgotten every bit of it. To be honest, I was a bit disappointed as I watched it, but it grew on me by the end, as most Herzog/Kinski films do. This final collaboration made me reflect on their work as a whole, and I realized that I liked analyzing these films and looking up behind the scenes info more than actually watching them.

That isn’t to say that I don’t enjoy all of these movies; I do like them very much. But the background drama coupled with analysis makes these movies unique. Herzog likes to point out in his commentaries how anti-Hollywood he is, and that’s what I like about his work. These movies could not be made by a studio. The subject matter, the meandering pacing, the volatile Kinski, etc. All of these things would have been altered. And while Herzog’s style honestly bores me at times, by the end I’m always left thinking about what I had just watched for hours afterward. That is special to me because I watch so much crap that I forget almost instantly. It’s nice to watch something that sticks with me and challenges what I think a movie should be.

So why did I forget Cobra Verde after my first viewing, then? All I can think is that I was a different person when I bought this set all those years ago. I was only really a fan of Aguirre and Fitzcarraldo, and I thought the set looked cool. Only now have I given it proper attention, and I am very glad I did.

This is Kinski at his most manic and despondent.

Herzog doesn’t seem to be thrilled with Kinski’s work in this film, and he thinks it was his preparation for Paganini that caused it. Paganini would end up being Kinski’s final film. Herzog thinks that Kinski brought the energy he was creating for that role to Cobra Verde, leading to a less enthused performance. I can’t claim to know why Kinski seemed different in this film, but I think he is clearly different this time around.

It’s strange to make such a claim when Cobra Verde has so many crazed Kinski moments. The training scenes with the female warriors, in particular, show Kinski at his most crazed. Not to mention a black-faced Kinski facing execution or Kinski facing off against a king in a throne room with a floor made of human skulls. How could this be considered a less energetic performance? Well, those scenes are certainly brimming with Kinski’s famous, manic spirit, but they don’t make up the bulk of the film. Most of the film, Kinski comes across as tired and depressed. Granted, the character is admittedly miserable by the end of the film. But with the hindsight that Kinski’s career and life would end soon after this film, it’s not a stretch to think that something had changed in him.

This doesn’t mean the performance is bad. In fact, this is my favorite performance. The lack of energy in most of the scenes adds a complexity to what otherwise would be a terrible character. He is a terrible character. Not only is he a murderer and bandit, but he is a rapist and a slaver, as well. In a normal film, he would be the villain. I suppose he is still the villain of this film. I guess I mean that in a normal film, the focus would be on a hero fighting against such a man. But this is a Herzog film.

Herzog doesn’t seek to make Kinski all that sympathetic, but he does give him a few lines showing that he’s aware of how terrible he is. One of my favorite lines occurs when he allows a fellow slaver to take one of his women (who live in a pit) for the night. When he’s asked who the women are, Kinski responds, “Our future murderers.” The question is, does acknowledging he and the slave trade are awful make him any better? I would argue they make him even worse, as he engages in the slave trade knowing how awful it is. And it would be one thing to just be involved in it as a business, but to also keep women in a pit to be raped nightly? Admitting you’re awful doesn’t really do much when you’re doing things like that. But it does make for an interesting performance.

Did Herzog intentionally make movies with Kinski that mirror his own filmmaking style?

One criticism that has been leveled at Cobra Verde is that it is too light on plot. It’s true that things just seem to happen to Kinski without there being any real goal for the character. But that’s typical of the three crazed ambition films Herzog made with Kinski. Aguirre has a goal, sure, but it’s insane. There’s no kingdom to be made as you drift down the Amazon. Fitzcarraldo definitely had a goal, too, but it was just as crazy. So Cobra Verde doesn’t have some grand plan, but like Aguirre and Fitzcarraldo, he seems to drift through life.

I don’t think it’s a stretch to compare these characters to Herzog himself. This was most clear with Fitzcarraldo, since he actually did what the character was trying to do. But it’s kind of the same with Cobra Verde, as the sheer amount of extras appearing onscreen must have been just as complicated to deal with as dragging a ship up a hill. It’s not just trying to do difficult things that tie them together. Herzog has stated in previous commentaries that he never storyboards anything. And all of this films that deal with native people actually have native people playing the parts. There’s no way he could plan that out very far in advance. I imagine following Herzog to these locations to make movies must’ve been similar to being on the journey with Kinski’s characters.

Because of this, Herzog’s films feel like documentaries and shots go on much longer than they normally would. Some of it works, and some it gets a bit tedious, but it’s a unique film experience. That is why Herzog and Kinski were so good together despite their infamous clashed behind the scenes. Kinski could bring the manic energy or the lethargic presence needed for such strange characters, and Herzog was willing to sometimes go blindly forward and see what happened. It’s a small miracle that these films ended up being so great and effective. But perhaps, after five films, I’m experiencing a Stockholm Syndrome-type situation, and I find brilliance where there is actually just insanity.

These movies are making me think like Herzog...I’m scared.

Writing thing like “I find brilliance where there is actually just insanity” scares me a little because it sounds like something Herzog would say. I first became aware of this as I was taking notes while watching Cobra Verde. Here’s an example:

I suppose I prefer the three movies about ambition most for the same reason some people hate them: the lack of story. Sure, plenty of things happen, but overall these films are about the journey, not the destination, which is a metaphor for life, of course. These films are not trying to tell some important story. They meander and seem to just let things happen, because that's what life is: a meandering journey featuring random events that typically ends unremarkably. My God, these films have gotten to me. I'm starting to write the way Herzog talks.

I don’t think I would have written something like “life is a meandering journey featuring random events that typically ends unremarkably” after only watching one of these films. I think this is something that happens when you watch them all and write about them over the course of a few weeks. I love these movies, but I’m glad I only have the documentary left. Thinking about these characters and the behind the scenes stuff and listening to Herzog’s commentaries is getting to me. I’m definitely going to be choosing something much more light-hearted when I’m done with this collection.

Would I own this if it wasn’t part of the collection?

Probably not, but I do think I will revisit this one again sometime. But if I’m in the mood to watch a Herzog/Kinski film, Aguirre or Fitzcarraldo will always come before this.

Random Thoughts

“I want you awake when you die!” Of course you do, Kinski.

Kinski’s a natural...at slaving.

I have to admit, Kinski looks pretty damn cool in this movie, both as a bandit a la Leone and as a Napoleonic captain.

A goat takes communion. Maybe this is meant to be some kind of commentary on Christianity, but it’s probably just because there was a goat on set that day, and Herzog thought it would be funny to give it communion.

Kinski and crabs...they've come full circle. In the commentary, Herzog talks about his fear of the crabs. Interesting that he told Kinski to act crab-like in Aguirre and Nosferatu, especially since he claims he was never afraid of Kinski, but he directs him to act like a creature he fears.

Prince Crazy Eyes. That dude cracked me up in every scene.

The most famous behind the scenes photo from this movie shows Kinski reaching for Herzog’s throat, but there are actually multiple pictures of them smiling together, which is definitely an odd sight.

I can think of nothing more terrifying than seeing Kinski running full speed at me, leading an army of topless female warriors.

That's one hell of a messaging system. Do they really need to be that close together? Seems like you could get the same thing done with one-tenth the people. But Herzog liked the way it looked, so...

For once, Herzog is more interested in the natives than nature. This makes Kinski even worse since he treats them all like animals or tools for his own uses.

Cobra Verde is a unique character for Kinski. He's just as ambitious as Aguirre and Fitzcarraldo, but unlike them, he seems to not know why. He is admittedly miserable. So what's the motivation? All three characters don't really plan things out and just seem to go where the wind takes them. Perhaps Cobra Verde is the ultimate version of this. A bandit whose only motivation is to see where life takes him, no matter how evil the path.

And on that note, are all these characters like Herzog, as well? His films seem to drift aimlessly in their subject matter. Sure, he has always had a connection to nature and the absurdity of humanity, but the subjects and styles of his filmography are possibly the most varied of any director. He is like Verde, drifting from subject to subject rather than looking for some ultimate goal.

What a fitting final image of Kinski. Struggling to move a boat and failing to move it an inch, despite his rage. But he is immensely watchable. It's hard to describe. He's looks strange and severe, and nearly every character he played for Herzog was monstrous in some way. You don't root for him really, but you want to see what happens.