HI THERE
Some of Werner Herzog movies have a way of growing on me, unlike other filmmakers' projects. I liked Grizzly Man when I saw it, but over the years after that, I came to identify it as one of my favorite documentaries. Similarly, Aguirre: The Wrath of God felt like a fun (in its own way), surreal trip, but I never really got it out of my head. After rewatching it one more time, it became one of my all-time favorites. One of the keys to these movies, and Stroszek, too, is that the characters are so damned inherently memorable. In the minutes after watching it, I was pleased but not overwhelmed. Now, writing about it a day later, thinking about individual scenes makes me smile or cringe.
Part of this: Bruno S. (the character: Bruno Stroszek, the actor who plays him: Bruno Shleinstein) is an unnatural presence in front of a camera. He's awkward and nervous throughout; even when he's ranting loudly, it doesn't sound like a man with much confidence in the moment. His friend Scheitz is also intensely memorable for his quirks, but not in the indie-quirk way we've seen in, say, the works of Wes Anderson. Movies like Rushmore have characters that are clearly written creations (which is not to take away from Rushmore's greatness); Herzog at times seems like he could make a feature-length film about any random inmate at an asylum or a prison. That's definitely one of the things that gets commented on a lot in relation to this film, though. I'd rather go in another direction and focus on the settings, which reach a kind of verisimilitude of their own.
Part of this: Bruno S. (the character: Bruno Stroszek, the actor who plays him: Bruno Shleinstein) is an unnatural presence in front of a camera. He's awkward and nervous throughout; even when he's ranting loudly, it doesn't sound like a man with much confidence in the moment. His friend Scheitz is also intensely memorable for his quirks, but not in the indie-quirk way we've seen in, say, the works of Wes Anderson. Movies like Rushmore have characters that are clearly written creations (which is not to take away from Rushmore's greatness); Herzog at times seems like he could make a feature-length film about any random inmate at an asylum or a prison. That's definitely one of the things that gets commented on a lot in relation to this film, though. I'd rather go in another direction and focus on the settings, which reach a kind of verisimilitude of their own.
The movie begins in Germany, with Bruno getting let out of prison. He goes to a bar and has an apartment. The movie depicts the city as live-in; even Bruno's apartment is a cluttered mess. He's a street performer, and he performs in an alley that looks dingy and empty while he's playing his song. His prostitute friend Eva cleans it up, but Bruno's piano always seems too big for the room. Eva's pimps wreck the place, soon enough, anyway. Overall, the city is dark and confining. There's so much history there; it's almost a metaphor for Europe itself. It may just be coincidence (the nagging of film professors tells me it's not), but everything does seem small and lived-in, but also homely. Despite the mess, Bruno still has a fond nickname for his piano, and, once out of jail, picks up his street performing where he left off. Even as violent pimps roam the streets, it's clear tha thte city in some ways is home, or at least familiar, to Bruno and his friends.
Later, they move to Wisconsin, which is mostly barren fields. Even when Bruno's on the run after robbing a barber shop, the streets seem wide and inviting. Their trailer, a massive, hulking box, cannot fill in the space of the desert landscape enough to make the place seem populated. The truck yard nearby seems so empty. Scheitz wanders a field at one point testing "animal magnetism," and the land seems to go on forever. He never once has any conversation with anyone but his nephew and Buruno. There's something beautiful about these areas, but there's also something alien and strange about them, captured by the main characters. It helps to make Bruno a more sympathetic character, since America's such a strange place to him, yet it's not so strange that society will accept him.
Underscoring this, there's a scene where their trailer is auctioned off. Eva was the only person of the little group who spoke English, and she's long gone by this point in the movie. The auctioneer calls prices for items, too fast for me to fully understand what he's saying. One can only imagine how overwhelming it is for someone who doesn't speak English. From an establishing shot, the camera captures how empty this part of the country is, while a small mass of people huddle outside the massive trailer. Bruno's there, weaving in and out of the crowd, understanding what's happening, but not its specifics. After the auction is over, the town's police chief starts his car. Bruno berates and directly threatens him, but he drives off after apologizing for not understanding him. Bruno and Scheitz are alone, and it's painful to watch their every word be met with a sad confusion.
Some have said that this movie seems anti-American, but I don't think that's the intention. Almost everyone in the area is strangers to the group. They have no stake in their well-being, and they all treat the immigrants with politeness. The language barrier is too much to overcome for almost anyone, though; they're only there for a short amount of time before their living arrangements start to come apart. When Eva pays the man from the bank with cash she earned prostituting, he's bewildered that it's not in check or card form. Neither side really has the time or inclination to get to know the other. This is one of the scenarios where the casting of non-actors helps; the townspeople seem even more dumbfounded by what's happening then Herzog's actors. From the way from the guy from the bank continually apologizes for demanding payments, it's like their housing issues move along on their own accord.
Underscoring this, there's a scene where their trailer is auctioned off. Eva was the only person of the little group who spoke English, and she's long gone by this point in the movie. The auctioneer calls prices for items, too fast for me to fully understand what he's saying. One can only imagine how overwhelming it is for someone who doesn't speak English. From an establishing shot, the camera captures how empty this part of the country is, while a small mass of people huddle outside the massive trailer. Bruno's there, weaving in and out of the crowd, understanding what's happening, but not its specifics. After the auction is over, the town's police chief starts his car. Bruno berates and directly threatens him, but he drives off after apologizing for not understanding him. Bruno and Scheitz are alone, and it's painful to watch their every word be met with a sad confusion.
Some have said that this movie seems anti-American, but I don't think that's the intention. Almost everyone in the area is strangers to the group. They have no stake in their well-being, and they all treat the immigrants with politeness. The language barrier is too much to overcome for almost anyone, though; they're only there for a short amount of time before their living arrangements start to come apart. When Eva pays the man from the bank with cash she earned prostituting, he's bewildered that it's not in check or card form. Neither side really has the time or inclination to get to know the other. This is one of the scenarios where the casting of non-actors helps; the townspeople seem even more dumbfounded by what's happening then Herzog's actors. From the way from the guy from the bank continually apologizes for demanding payments, it's like their housing issues move along on their own accord.
It's interesting, then, that the happiest moments in the film are when Bruno, Eva and Scheitz are sightseeing in New York. Now, all I know about New York circa 1977 is learned from Scorsese movies, Al Pacino's 70s works, Saturday Night Fever, and the Rolling Stones album Some Girls. I am under the impression that a lot of motherfuckers got shot up a lot and things that would be crimes in other cities went unchecked. That makes it interesting that the most idyllic part of the Stroszek takes places as these immigrants who barely speak English looking around this city in a sunny daytime. You never see New York having that in those movies. New York, too expensive for a street performer, a prostitute and an old man to live, is the American myth that they hope to find when they first set out. At one point, Bruno admits that he believed America would be different from Germany, only to find that he's an outcast in both places.
More pro- or anti- anything, though, the movie is observant. It's the perfect mode for a director who went into documentaries later on, where everything seems natural-ish, if not truly natural. Hell, I went this whole way without even mentioning that the Wisconsin town was the homeplace of noted grave robber Ed Gein (try to find that on their welcome sign, though). That's never brought up in the movie, though. Does knowing that add anything to it? I don't know, but it kind of explains some of the emptiness, doesn't it? It doesn't? I don't know, then. The movie ends with a chicken dancing nonstop, though. What does that mean? I have guesses, but I would venture to say it was filmed with nothing specific in mind. Just feelin' right, like the rest of this movie.
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