Chris	
  Wahl	
  
	
  
	
  “I	
  don’t	
  like	
  the	
  Germans”	
  –	
  Even	
  Herzog	
  Started	
  in	
  Bavaria	
  
	
  
When	
  Werner	
  Herzog	
  was	
  interviewed	
  by	
  Jonathan	
  Demme	
  in	
  the	
  TimesCenter	
  in	
  New	
  York	
  on	
  June	
  10,	
  
2008,	
  he	
  took	
  every	
  opportunity	
  to	
  express	
  antipathy	
  toward	
  Germany	
  and	
  sympathy	
  for	
  Bavaria,	
  the	
  
region	
  of	
  Germany	
  in	
  which	
  he	
  grew	
  up.1
	
  This	
  chapter	
  investigates	
  the	
  reasons	
  behind	
  Herzog’s	
  
bifurcated	
  relationship	
  to	
  his	
  homeland—to	
  his	
  Heimat—and	
  for	
  his	
  eventual	
  emigration	
  to	
  California.	
  It	
  
also	
  analyzes	
  the	
  special	
  meaning	
  Herzog’s	
  Bavarian	
  heritage	
  holds	
  for	
  his	
  work.	
  
	
   Bavaria	
  has	
  a	
  particular	
  significance	
  within	
  the	
  Federal	
  Republic	
  of	
  Germany.	
  In	
  terms	
  of	
  square	
  
area	
  it	
  is	
  Germany’s	
  largest	
  region,	
  and	
  it	
  is	
  the	
  most	
  powerful	
  economically.	
  However,	
  it	
  is	
  also	
  the	
  
most	
  politically	
  and	
  religiously	
  conservative	
  of	
  the	
  German	
  states	
  (Bundesländer).	
  Prior	
  to	
  the	
  
establishment	
  of	
  the	
  German	
  Empire	
  under	
  Otto	
  von	
  Bismarck,	
  the	
  Kingdom	
  of	
  Bavaria	
  long	
  
maneuvered	
  between	
  Prussia	
  and	
  Austria,	
  central	
  Europe’s	
  two	
  major	
  powers,	
  with	
  the	
  goal	
  of	
  
protecting	
  its	
  autonomy	
  as	
  much	
  as	
  it	
  could.2
	
  Their	
  desire	
  for	
  sovereignty	
  has	
  continued	
  to	
  this	
  day	
  and	
  
expresses	
  itself	
  in	
  the	
  often-­‐heard	
  slogan,	
  “we	
  are	
  who	
  we	
  are”	
  (wir	
  sind	
  wir,	
  or	
  mir	
  san	
  mir	
  when	
  said	
  in	
  
the	
  Bavarian	
  dialect).	
  On	
  the	
  political	
  level	
  the	
  typical	
  Bavarian	
  consciousness	
  expresses	
  itself	
  in	
  the	
  fact	
  
that	
  the	
  regional	
  political	
  party,	
  the	
  Christian	
  Social	
  Union	
  (CSU),	
  which	
  was	
  founded	
  in	
  Würzburg	
  after	
  
World	
  War	
  II,	
  has	
  resisted	
  subordination	
  to	
  the	
  larger	
  national	
  party,	
  the	
  Christian	
  Democratic	
  Union	
  
(CDU).	
  Even	
  today	
  the	
  CSU	
  operates	
  as	
  a	
  sister	
  party	
  to	
  the	
  CDU,	
  which	
  allows	
  it	
  to	
  act	
  as	
  a	
  spearhead	
  
against	
  both	
  national	
  and	
  European	
  federalisms.3
	
  Two	
  businesses	
  whose	
  calling	
  cards	
  directly	
  refer	
  to	
  
their	
  Bavarian	
  origins	
  are	
  the	
  soccer	
  team	
  FC	
  Bayern-­‐Munich	
  (FC	
  Bayern	
  München),	
  founded	
  in	
  1900,	
  
and	
  the	
  car	
  and	
  motorcycle	
  manufacturer	
  BMW	
  (Bavarian	
  Motor	
  Works,	
  or	
  Bayerische	
  Motoren	
  Werke	
  
AG),	
  which	
  was	
  first	
  formed	
  under	
  the	
  name	
  Rapp	
  Motorworks	
  in	
  1913.	
  Both	
  organizations	
  claim	
  to	
  
embody	
  the	
  top	
  of	
  their	
  class.	
  Within	
  Germany	
  Bavaria	
  is	
  infamously	
  proud	
  of	
  having	
  the	
  country’s	
  
ostensibly—and	
  perhaps	
  genuinely—most	
  challenging	
  secondary	
  school	
  exam	
  (Abitur).	
  For	
  these	
  
reasons,	
  it	
  was	
  hardly	
  surprising	
  when	
  Edmund	
  Stoiber,	
  Bavaria’s	
  Minister-­‐President	
  from	
  1993–2007,	
  
uttered	
  the	
  following	
  sentence	
  in	
  the	
  course	
  of	
  the	
  2005	
  federal	
  elections:	
  “If	
  everywhere	
  else	
  things	
  
were	
  as	
  they	
  are	
  in	
  Bavaria,	
  we	
  would	
  have	
  no	
  problems	
  at	
  all.	
  It’s	
  only	
  that,	
  ladies	
  and	
  gentlemen,	
  we	
  
have	
  large	
  parts	
  of	
  the	
  population	
  who	
  unfortunately	
  aren’t	
  as	
  wise	
  as	
  we.”4
	
  This	
  sort	
  of	
  unflinching	
  
arrogance	
  has	
  likely	
  been	
  an	
  obstacle	
  to	
  having	
  a	
  Bavarian	
  Minister-­‐President	
  elected	
  to	
  the	
  office	
  of	
  
Chancellor.5
	
  
	
  
	
   2
	
   The	
  task	
  the	
  CSU	
  assigned	
  itself	
  from	
  the	
  very	
  beginning,	
  and	
  which	
  it	
  still	
  today	
  attempts	
  to	
  
discharge,	
  is	
  the	
  building	
  of	
  a	
  democratic	
  peoples’	
  party	
  that	
  the	
  political	
  right	
  can	
  claim,	
  one	
  not	
  
perceived	
  as	
  standing	
  for	
  extreme	
  positions	
  and—more	
  important—for	
  extreme	
  actions.	
  Munich,	
  
Bavaria’s	
  capital,	
  was	
  after	
  all	
  the	
  site	
  of	
  Hitler’s	
  Putsch	
  in	
  November	
  1923	
  when	
  the	
  Nazi	
  Party	
  (the	
  
NSDAP)	
  made	
  their	
  first	
  brutal	
  stab	
  at	
  usurping	
  power.	
  Ernst	
  Röhm,	
  who	
  was	
  born	
  in	
  Munich	
  in	
  1887,	
  
played	
  a	
  prominent	
  role	
  in	
  the	
  attempt.	
  As	
  a	
  veteran	
  officer	
  of	
  World	
  War	
  I,	
  Röhm	
  led	
  the	
  Nazi	
  thugs,	
  
Hitler’s	
  “Storm	
  Division”	
  (the	
  Sturmabteilung	
  or	
  SA),	
  until	
  he	
  was	
  murdered	
  in	
  1934.	
  Munich	
  is	
  also	
  
home	
  to	
  the	
  building	
  that	
  served	
  from	
  1930	
  to	
  1945	
  as	
  the	
  NSDAP	
  headquarters,	
  otherwise	
  known	
  as	
  
the	
  “Brown	
  House,”	
  in	
  which	
  Adolf	
  Wagner,	
  the	
  party’s	
  infamous	
  regional	
  director	
  resided.	
  Wagner’s	
  
repressive	
  measures	
  clearly	
  surpassed	
  the	
  “usual”	
  ones.	
  The	
  counterpart	
  of	
  this	
  brutish	
  and	
  inane	
  
twentieth-­‐century	
  tradition	
  was	
  the	
  intrepid	
  and	
  uninhibited	
  Anarchist	
  movement	
  that	
  shared	
  many	
  
members	
  with	
  Munich’s	
  Soviet	
  Council	
  (Räterrepublik),	
  and	
  which	
  established	
  itself	
  in	
  April	
  and	
  May	
  
1919,	
  only	
  four	
  short	
  years	
  prior	
  to	
  the	
  Putsch.	
  Most	
  of	
  that	
  group’s	
  participants	
  met	
  with	
  a	
  grim	
  
demise.	
  And	
  of	
  course	
  the	
  Scholl	
  siblings—Hans	
  and	
  Sophie—along	
  with	
  their	
  fellow	
  resistors	
  from	
  
Munich’s	
  renowned	
  Ludwig	
  Maximilian	
  University	
  have	
  not	
  been	
  forgotten	
  long	
  after	
  the	
  Nazi	
  era.	
  Their	
  
group,	
  “The	
  White	
  Rose,”	
  refused	
  to	
  be	
  silent,	
  and	
  they	
  paid	
  for	
  their	
  refusal	
  with	
  their	
  lives.	
  
	
   Years	
  after	
  World	
  War	
  II,	
  in	
  June	
  1963,	
  the	
  “Schwabing	
  Riots”	
  broke	
  out	
  in	
  Munich.	
  In	
  the	
  
tradition	
  of	
  Schwabing—the	
  city’s	
  bohemian	
  district—the	
  riots	
  served	
  as	
  a	
  prelude	
  to	
  Europe’s	
  
subsequent	
  youth	
  rebellion.	
  Peter	
  Fleischmann’s	
  documentary	
  Autumn	
  of	
  the	
  Dead-­‐beats	
  (Herbst	
  der	
  
Gammler,	
  1967)	
  offers	
  a	
  striking	
  portrait	
  of	
  the	
  “asocial”	
  element	
  that	
  converged	
  in	
  Schwabing	
  over	
  the	
  
course	
  of	
  that	
  decade.	
  Rioters	
  clashed	
  not	
  only	
  with	
  the	
  police	
  but	
  with	
  the	
  city’s	
  “normal”	
  citizens	
  as	
  
well.	
  It	
  is	
  no	
  wonder	
  that	
  large	
  numbers	
  of	
  people	
  gathered	
  in	
  Munich	
  at	
  the	
  time;	
  the	
  fresh	
  cultural	
  
winds	
  of	
  the	
  Federal	
  Republic	
  were	
  rushing	
  in,	
  as	
  was	
  typified	
  by	
  the	
  numerous	
  filmmakers	
  who	
  found	
  
themselves	
  there.6
	
  Among	
  them	
  was	
  Herzog,	
  who	
  was	
  born	
  in	
  Munich	
  and	
  has	
  repeatedly	
  emphasized	
  
that	
  the	
  city	
  has	
  changed	
  for	
  the	
  worse	
  over	
  time.	
  Herzog	
  declares:	
  “Munich	
  is	
  a	
  chic	
  and	
  empty	
  city.	
  It	
  
is	
  empty	
  of	
  meaning”	
  (2008:	
  64).	
  He	
  links	
  the	
  city’s	
  transformation	
  to	
  a	
  distortion	
  of	
  its	
  original	
  Bavarian	
  
character.	
  In	
  conversation	
  with	
  Laurens	
  Straub,	
  Herzog	
  observes:	
  “As	
  you	
  describe	
  [the	
  Bavarian	
  
character],	
  it	
  no	
  longer	
  exists.	
  Its	
  traces	
  have	
  been	
  washed	
  away.	
  Munich,	
  for	
  example,	
  the	
  Bavarian	
  
capitol,	
  is	
  more	
  or	
  less	
  predominantly	
  occupied	
  by	
  Prussians,	
  the	
  enemies,	
  so	
  to	
  speak,	
  of	
  
Bavarianness.”7
	
  What	
  has	
  been	
  washed	
  away	
  is	
  the	
  sometimes	
  absurd	
  give	
  and	
  take	
  between	
  the	
  
extremisms	
  of	
  tradition	
  and	
  individualism.	
  This	
  is	
  surely	
  what	
  Herzog	
  is	
  referring	
  to	
  when	
  he	
  speaks	
  of	
  
the	
  Bavarian	
  soul.	
  According	
  to	
  him,	
  both	
  of	
  the	
  Munich	
  personalities,	
  the	
  comedian	
  and	
  film-­‐producer	
  
	
  
	
   3
Karl	
  Valentin	
  as	
  well	
  as	
  the	
  writer,	
  director	
  and	
  painter	
  Herbert	
  Achternbusch,	
  gained—or	
  were	
  
granted—a	
  deep	
  insight	
  into	
  that	
  soul.	
  In	
  the	
  latter	
  case,	
  the	
  author’s	
  insight	
  is	
  apparent	
  in	
  the	
  template	
  
he	
  provided	
  for	
  Herzog’s	
  film	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass	
  (1976).8
	
  
	
   Herzog’s	
  early	
  twelve-­‐minute	
  short	
  film	
  Precautions	
  Against	
  Fanatics	
  (1969)	
  clearly	
  speaks	
  to	
  
the	
  Bavarian	
  nature.	
  According	
  to	
  Herzog	
  the	
  film	
  deals	
  with	
  “people	
  who	
  are	
  under	
  a	
  great	
  deal	
  of	
  
pressure.	
  The	
  pressure	
  comes,	
  first	
  of	
  all,	
  from	
  the	
  fact	
  that	
  they	
  are	
  prominent	
  people	
  and	
  see	
  
themselves	
  that	
  way,	
  and	
  second,	
  that	
  they	
  have	
  been	
  put	
  under	
  the	
  external	
  pressure	
  of	
  a	
  foolish	
  task.	
  
Then,	
  all	
  at	
  once,	
  something	
  pours	
  out	
  of	
  them	
  …	
  !	
  Like	
  physicists	
  who	
  experiment	
  with	
  materials	
  when	
  
they	
  are	
  trying	
  to	
  learn	
  about	
  an	
  alloy	
  inside	
  and	
  out—how	
  it	
  responds	
  to	
  extreme	
  heat,	
  extreme	
  
pressure,	
  extreme	
  radiation	
  and	
  the	
  like”	
  (Herzog	
  1976:	
  125—126).9
	
  Herzog’s	
  film	
  portrays	
  various	
  men	
  
protecting	
  racehorses	
  from	
  a	
  vaguely	
  defined	
  group	
  of	
  “fanatics.”	
  The	
  horses’	
  guardians	
  make	
  silly	
  
speeches	
  in	
  the	
  company	
  of	
  animals	
  and	
  they	
  make	
  themselves	
  look	
  ridiculous.	
  An	
  old	
  and	
  apparently	
  
confused	
  man,	
  who	
  speaks	
  in	
  the	
  Bavarian	
  dialect,	
  tries	
  repeatedly	
  to	
  disrupt	
  the	
  horse-­‐keepers’	
  work	
  
and	
  drive	
  them	
  from	
  the	
  racing	
  field.	
  The	
  question	
  soon	
  arises:	
  who	
  is	
  really	
  the	
  fanatic	
  and	
  who	
  is	
  
helpless;	
  is	
  it	
  the	
  horses	
  or	
  their	
  ostensible	
  protectors?	
  This	
  inversion,	
  if	
  one	
  may	
  formulate	
  things	
  this	
  
way,	
  refers	
  not	
  only	
  to	
  a	
  meteorological	
  phenomenon	
  often	
  found	
  in	
  Bavaria,	
  but	
  also	
  describes	
  a	
  
rhetorical	
  figure,	
  one	
  by	
  which	
  principles	
  of	
  uncertainty	
  and	
  reversal	
  come	
  into	
  play.	
  It	
  is	
  in	
  some	
  
respects	
  particular	
  to	
  Bavarian	
  culture,	
  where	
  social	
  pressure	
  and	
  personal	
  freedom	
  appear	
  as	
  extreme	
  
poles.	
  Herzog	
  returns	
  to	
  this	
  trope	
  in	
  almost	
  all	
  of	
  his	
  films—often	
  relying	
  on	
  the	
  presence	
  of	
  animals,	
  
which	
  makes	
  us	
  take	
  note	
  of	
  animalistic	
  characteristics	
  in	
  people—such	
  that	
  one	
  may	
  be	
  tempted	
  to	
  
refer	
  to	
  a	
  “Herzogian	
  inversion.”	
  Since	
  the	
  start	
  of	
  his	
  career	
  Herzog	
  was	
  fiercely	
  attacked	
  in	
  the	
  public	
  
sphere,	
  and	
  inversion	
  arose	
  as	
  a	
  stylistic	
  means	
  of	
  defense	
  in	
  his	
  films.	
  It	
  subsequently	
  came	
  to	
  be	
  
employed	
  as	
  a	
  strategy	
  for	
  defending	
  himself	
  in	
  interviews.	
  In	
  a	
  workshop	
  conducted	
  in	
  1979	
  by	
  the	
  film	
  
critic	
  Roger	
  Ebert	
  in	
  Chicago,	
  Herzog	
  recounted:	
  “In	
  Germany,	
  in	
  my	
  own	
  country,	
  people	
  have	
  tried	
  to	
  
label	
  me	
  personally	
  as	
  an	
  eccentric,	
  as	
  some	
  sort	
  of	
  strange	
  freak	
  that	
  does	
  not	
  fit	
  into	
  any	
  of	
  their	
  
patterns”	
  (Walsh	
  1979:	
  9).	
  But	
  Herzog	
  rejects	
  such	
  reproaches;	
  precisely	
  because	
  they	
  come	
  from	
  the	
  
majority,	
  they	
  are	
  wrong.	
  History	
  has	
  proven	
  that	
  mass	
  tastes	
  are	
  the	
  material	
  of	
  eccentricity.	
  Along	
  
precisely	
  these	
  lines	
  one	
  can	
  point	
  to	
  an	
  interview	
  six	
  years	
  earlier	
  in	
  which	
  Herzog	
  said:	
  
I	
  believe	
  it	
  is	
  the	
  rest	
  of	
  them	
  who	
  are	
  the	
  outsiders.	
  The	
  real	
  eccentric	
  of	
  our	
  time	
  is	
  Peter	
  Alexander.	
  When	
  they	
  
look	
  back	
  from	
  the	
  year	
  2010,	
  he	
  will	
  seem	
  completely	
  laughable,	
  eccentric	
  and	
  unhinged,	
  just	
  as	
  it	
  looks	
  to	
  us	
  
today	
  in	
  the	
  case	
  of	
  Wilhelm	
  II,	
  who	
  at	
  that	
  time	
  seemed	
  to	
  stand	
  at	
  the	
  center	
  of	
  things.	
  Now	
  he	
  seems	
  ridiculous	
  
and	
  wildly	
  eccentric,	
  whereas	
  an	
  apparent	
  outsider,	
  like	
  the	
  Swiss	
  author	
  Robert	
  Walser,	
  who	
  lived	
  at	
  the	
  edge	
  of	
  
	
  
	
   4
the	
  world	
  and	
  sat	
  for	
  thirty-­‐five	
  years	
  in	
  a	
  madhouse,	
  formulated	
  things	
  in	
  his	
  time	
  that	
  remain	
  valid	
  for	
  us	
  today	
  
(Borski	
  1973:	
  6).
10
	
  
In	
  the	
  mid-­‐1970s	
  it	
  was	
  still	
  an	
  act	
  of	
  anarchic	
  inversion	
  to	
  call	
  Peter	
  Alexander,	
  the	
  beloved	
  singer,	
  
actor,	
  and	
  entertainer,	
  who	
  so	
  many	
  mothers	
  once	
  longed	
  to	
  have	
  for	
  their	
  son-­‐in-­‐law,	
  an	
  eccentric.11
	
  
Today,	
  however,	
  Alexander’s	
  pop-­‐hit	
  films	
  from	
  the	
  1960s	
  including	
  And	
  Get	
  This	
  One	
  to	
  Bed	
  by	
  Eight	
  (…	
  
und	
  sowas	
  muss	
  um	
  acht	
  ins	
  Bett,	
  Werner	
  Jacobs,	
  1965)	
  are	
  indeed	
  happily	
  consumed	
  as	
  “trash	
  
cinema.”	
  Those	
  who	
  grab	
  the	
  limelight	
  of	
  the	
  Zeitgeist	
  will	
  be	
  silly	
  in	
  retrospect,	
  but	
  those	
  who	
  create	
  
something	
  unique	
  in	
  opposition	
  to	
  fashionable	
  trends,	
  will	
  survive	
  over	
  the	
  long	
  haul,	
  even	
  if	
  they	
  are	
  
only	
  taken	
  seriously	
  after	
  their	
  deaths.	
  Along	
  these	
  lines	
  the	
  voice	
  of	
  courage	
  must	
  have	
  spoken	
  to	
  
Herzog	
  over	
  the	
  course	
  of	
  those	
  years	
  when	
  his	
  films	
  were,	
  by	
  and	
  large,	
  harshly	
  criticized.	
  He	
  made	
  
efforts	
  to	
  sensitize	
  the	
  public	
  to	
  its	
  own	
  shortsightedness	
  by	
  refashioning	
  the	
  concept	
  of	
  eccentricity,	
  
which	
  is	
  commonly	
  used	
  to	
  refer	
  to	
  people	
  who	
  move	
  beyond	
  the	
  norms.	
  Herzog	
  applied	
  it	
  instead	
  to	
  
those	
  people	
  who	
  find	
  themselves	
  going	
  beyond	
  that	
  which	
  is	
  meaningful.	
  An	
  eccentric	
  is,	
  to	
  Herzog,	
  
not	
  someone	
  who	
  has	
  a	
  boat	
  hauled	
  over	
  a	
  mountain	
  in	
  the	
  jungle	
  for	
  the	
  purposes	
  of	
  a	
  film	
  with	
  the	
  
aim	
  of	
  accomplishing	
  something	
  lasting,	
  but	
  is	
  instead	
  someone	
  who	
  looks	
  nice	
  on	
  television	
  and	
  wiles	
  
away	
  the	
  viewers’	
  time	
  with	
  harmless	
  diversions.12
	
  One	
  is	
  not	
  automatically	
  an	
  eccentric	
  because	
  he	
  or	
  
she	
  works	
  with	
  freaks	
  and	
  dwarfs.	
  Herzog	
  employs	
  characters	
  of	
  this	
  sort	
  so	
  viewers	
  of	
  his	
  films	
  can	
  
actively	
  achieve	
  a	
  degree	
  of	
  inversion;	
  so	
  they	
  can	
  reflect	
  on	
  or	
  see	
  themselves	
  in	
  Kinski,	
  in	
  Bruno	
  S.,	
  or	
  
in	
  one	
  of	
  the	
  dwarfs	
  of	
  Even	
  Dwarfs	
  Started	
  Small	
  (1970).	
  Jay	
  McRoy	
  and	
  Guy	
  Crucianelli	
  approach	
  the	
  
question	
  from	
  this	
  perspective	
  where	
  they	
  analyze	
  Tod	
  Browning’s	
  Freaks	
  (1932),	
  a	
  film	
  that	
  Herzog	
  
lauds	
  (Cronin	
  2002:	
  60,	
  136),	
  alongside	
  Gummo	
  (1997),	
  directed	
  by	
  Harmony	
  Korine	
  (in	
  whose	
  film	
  Julien	
  
Donkey-­‐Boy	
  [1999]	
  Herzog	
  played	
  a	
  leading	
  role).	
  McRoy	
  and	
  Crucianelli	
  describe	
  matters	
  thus:	
  
To	
  paraphrase	
  David	
  J.	
  Skal	
  and	
  Elias	
  Savada,	
  when	
  seen	
  in	
  the	
  right	
  light	
  and	
  from	
  the	
  proper	
  angle,	
  virtually	
  
anyone	
  can	
  be	
  made	
  to	
  appear	
  extraordinary,	
  abject,	
  or	
  “freakish.”	
  Consequently,	
  Tod	
  Browning’s	
  Freaks	
  and	
  
Harmony	
  Korine’s	
  Gummo	
  require	
  audiences	
  to	
  recognize	
  the	
  inequities	
  intrinsic	
  in	
  the	
  very	
  practice	
  of	
  film	
  
spectatorship.	
  At	
  the	
  very	
  least,	
  they	
  necessitate	
  a	
  re-­‐examination	
  of	
  the	
  extent	
  to	
  which	
  film	
  viewers,	
  like	
  the	
  
filmmakers	
  whose	
  visions	
  they	
  consume,	
  project	
  their	
  own	
  (pre)conceptions	
  of	
  “normalcy”	
  and	
  “freakishness”	
  
upon	
  the	
  projected	
  images	
  that	
  have	
  come	
  to	
  define	
  the	
  very	
  shape	
  and	
  politics	
  of	
  cinema	
  (2009:	
  271).	
  
Bavaria	
  has	
  a	
  history	
  of	
  so-­‐called	
  eccentrics,	
  who	
  passionately	
  pursued	
  that	
  which	
  they	
  took	
  to	
  be	
  
meaningful.	
  As	
  Herzog	
  might	
  express	
  it:	
  they	
  pursued	
  their	
  interests	
  ecstatically.	
  Where	
  he	
  identifies	
  
himself	
  as	
  Bavarian,	
  he	
  is	
  inscribing	
  himself	
  into	
  a	
  lineage	
  that	
  includes	
  figures	
  such	
  as	
  King	
  Ludwig	
  II,	
  the	
  
so-­‐called	
  “Moon	
  King,”	
  who—most	
  likely	
  owing	
  to	
  his	
  homosexuality—never	
  married.	
  Ludwig	
  II	
  also	
  let	
  
	
  
	
   5
the	
  business	
  of	
  governing	
  be	
  neglected,	
  gave	
  himself	
  over	
  to	
  alcohol,	
  and	
  was	
  ultimately	
  declared	
  mad.	
  
He	
  either	
  drowned	
  himself	
  or	
  was	
  drowned	
  by	
  others	
  in	
  Lake	
  Starnberg	
  under	
  circumstances	
  that	
  
remain	
  mysterious	
  to	
  this	
  day.	
  As	
  a	
  newly	
  crowned	
  King	
  in	
  1864	
  his	
  first	
  act	
  of	
  office	
  was	
  naming	
  Richard	
  
Wagner,	
  who	
  was	
  deeply	
  in	
  debt	
  and	
  whom	
  Ludwig	
  considered	
  a	
  genius,	
  his	
  personal	
  State-­‐composer.13
	
  
He	
  hoped	
  his	
  regency	
  would	
  be	
  defined	
  by	
  its	
  great	
  artistic	
  accomplishments,	
  rather	
  than	
  by	
  the	
  wars	
  in	
  
which	
  he	
  more	
  or	
  less	
  involuntarily	
  participated	
  in	
  1866	
  and	
  in	
  1870–71.	
  Herzog	
  overtly	
  constructs	
  
connections	
  with	
  King	
  Ludwig	
  and	
  his	
  over-­‐powering,	
  kitschy	
  creations,	
  which	
  even	
  today	
  are	
  among	
  
Germany’s	
  biggest	
  tourist	
  attractions.14
	
  Herzog	
  asserts:	
  “The	
  most	
  imaginative	
  Bavarian	
  of	
  all	
  was	
  King	
  
Ludwig	
  II.	
  He	
  was	
  totally	
  mad	
  and	
  built	
  all	
  those	
  castles	
  that	
  are	
  so	
  full	
  of	
  this	
  quintessentially	
  Bavarian	
  
dreaminess	
  and	
  exuberance.	
  I	
  always	
  felt	
  that	
  he	
  would	
  have	
  been	
  the	
  only	
  one	
  who	
  could	
  have	
  done	
  a	
  
film	
  like	
  Fitzcarraldo,	
  apart	
  from	
  me”	
  (Cronin	
  2002:	
  23).15
	
  
	
   Yet	
  another	
  facet	
  of	
  Bavarian	
  culture	
  that	
  resonates	
  with	
  the	
  style	
  of	
  Ludwig	
  II	
  is	
  the	
  Catholic	
  
Baroque,	
  a	
  tradition	
  with	
  which	
  Herzog	
  associates	
  himself.	
  It	
  tends	
  toward	
  the	
  atavistic,	
  rhapsodic,	
  and	
  
fairytale-­‐esque	
  and	
  can	
  be	
  found	
  in	
  the	
  architecture—especially	
  the	
  religious	
  constructions—of	
  the	
  
seventeenth	
  and	
  eighteenth	
  centuries,	
  which	
  often	
  employ	
  onion-­‐shaped	
  spires.	
  The	
  grandest	
  
realization	
  of	
  the	
  style	
  is	
  Neuschwanstein,	
  Ludwig’s	
  unfinished	
  dream-­‐castle.	
  When	
  it	
  comes	
  to	
  
Catholicism,	
  Bavaria	
  is	
  known	
  as	
  the	
  most	
  “fundamentalist”	
  German	
  State.16
	
  For	
  example:	
  in	
  contrast	
  
with	
  Germany’s	
  other	
  states,	
  a	
  crucifix	
  hangs	
  in	
  most	
  every	
  Bavarian	
  schoolroom.	
  A	
  judgment	
  of	
  the	
  
Federal	
  constitutional	
  court	
  from	
  May	
  16,	
  1995	
  (generally	
  referred	
  to	
  as	
  “the	
  crucifix-­‐decision”)	
  received	
  
popular	
  nationwide	
  support	
  for	
  repealing	
  the	
  corresponding	
  Bavarian	
  school	
  regulation.	
  In	
  practice	
  the	
  
court’s	
  judgment	
  changed	
  little.	
  Crosses	
  hang	
  in	
  Bavarian	
  classrooms	
  as	
  they	
  had	
  before,	
  and	
  they	
  are	
  
removed	
  only	
  after	
  specific	
  complaints	
  and	
  in	
  individual	
  incidents.	
  In	
  this	
  case,	
  one	
  suspects	
  that	
  the	
  
façade	
  of	
  religious	
  tradition	
  conceals	
  another	
  example	
  of	
  the	
  typically	
  Bavarian	
  attempt	
  to	
  hold	
  firm	
  to	
  
its	
  perceived	
  autonomy.	
  However,	
  in	
  the	
  above	
  quotation	
  about	
  Ludwig	
  Herzog	
  is	
  referring	
  to	
  the	
  
distinctive	
  cultural	
  imprint	
  left	
  by	
  the	
  powerful	
  convergence	
  of	
  Germanic	
  and	
  Celtic	
  heroism	
  that	
  forms	
  
a	
  basis	
  for	
  Roman	
  Catholic	
  Christianity.	
  In	
  the	
  equally	
  Catholic	
  Rheinland	
  region,	
  the	
  pagan	
  inheritance	
  
emerges	
  when	
  winter	
  is	
  driven	
  out	
  during	
  Carnival	
  (Mardi	
  Gras),	
  which	
  functions	
  as	
  the	
  annual	
  release	
  
of	
  elemental	
  forces.	
  In	
  Bavaria	
  the	
  burden	
  is	
  borne	
  by	
  the	
  world-­‐famous	
  Oktoberfest,	
  which	
  was	
  held	
  for	
  
the	
  first	
  time	
  in	
  1810	
  at	
  the	
  Theresienwiese	
  in	
  order	
  to	
  drink	
  the	
  beer	
  that	
  was	
  brewed	
  in	
  March	
  and	
  
could	
  no	
  longer	
  to	
  be	
  preserved.	
  Today	
  Munich’s	
  festival	
  stands	
  alongside	
  Cologne’s	
  Carnival	
  as	
  the	
  
uncontested	
  high	
  point	
  of	
  rollicking,	
  or	
  even	
  “ecstatic,”	
  drunken	
  German	
  festivals.	
  German	
  beer	
  culture,	
  
which	
  was	
  decisively	
  shaped	
  in	
  Catholic	
  cloisters	
  during	
  the	
  late	
  middle	
  ages,	
  is	
  undoubtedly	
  at	
  its	
  most	
  
	
  
	
   6
colorful	
  and	
  meaningful	
  in	
  Bavaria,	
  which	
  is	
  home	
  to	
  five	
  of	
  Germany’s	
  six	
  oldest	
  operational	
  breweries.	
  
Moreover,	
  along	
  with	
  the	
  Oktoberfest,	
  Bavaria	
  has	
  a	
  tradition	
  of	
  beer	
  gardens,	
  which	
  likewise	
  lies	
  close	
  
to	
  Herzog’s	
  heart.	
  The	
  director’s	
  filmic	
  self-­‐portrait	
  Portrait	
  Werner	
  Herzog	
  (1986)	
  begins	
  at	
  the	
  
Oktoberfest,	
  and	
  a	
  very	
  archaic	
  scene	
  of	
  Bavarian	
  beer	
  culture	
  is	
  found	
  in	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass:	
  Two	
  men	
  sit	
  in	
  
a	
  tavern	
  across	
  the	
  table	
  from	
  one	
  another,	
  each	
  “armed”	
  with	
  a	
  beer	
  mug	
  (Figure	
  10.1).	
  One	
  smashes	
  
his	
  mug	
  on	
  the	
  head	
  of	
  the	
  other,	
  who	
  in	
  turn	
  empties	
  his	
  beer	
  over	
  his	
  companion’s	
  head.	
  At	
  one	
  point	
  
in	
  an	
  interview	
  with	
  Paul	
  Cronin,	
  Herzog	
  states:	
  “Dammit,	
  now	
  you’ve	
  got	
  me	
  thinking	
  about	
  warm	
  
Bavarian	
  pretzels	
  coming	
  right	
  out	
  of	
  the	
  oven	
  with	
  some	
  good	
  butter	
  and	
  a	
  thick	
  beer.	
  You	
  just	
  cannot	
  
live	
  without	
  things	
  like	
  that.	
  This	
  is	
  what	
  being	
  Bavarian	
  is	
  really	
  all	
  about”	
  (Cronin	
  2002:	
  24).	
  
	
   In	
  this	
  respect	
  what	
  is	
  true	
  for	
  Herzog	
  goes	
  for	
  Ludwig	
  II	
  as	
  well.	
  As	
  Wolfgang	
  Till	
  notes:	
  
“[Ludwig]	
  was	
  Catholic,	
  one	
  could	
  say:	
  through	
  and	
  through,	
  but	
  not	
  in	
  the	
  confessional	
  sense;	
  he	
  was	
  
Catholic	
  in	
  a	
  way	
  that	
  corresponds	
  to	
  the	
  essence	
  of	
  Bavarian-­‐Baroque	
  piety”	
  (2010:	
  63).17
	
  Rainer	
  
Werner	
  Fassbinder,	
  who	
  came	
  from	
  the	
  Swabian	
  part	
  of	
  Bavaria,	
  possessed	
  a	
  similarly	
  extravagant	
  
imagination	
  anchored	
  in	
  popular	
  cultural	
  traditions.	
  Herzog	
  observes:	
  “You	
  see	
  this	
  kind	
  of	
  baroque	
  
imagination	
  in	
  Fassbinder’s	
  films,	
  the	
  kind	
  of	
  unstoppable	
  and	
  ferocious	
  creativity	
  he	
  had.	
  Like	
  his	
  work,	
  
my	
  films	
  are	
  not	
  thin-­‐blooded	
  ideological	
  constructs	
  that	
  we	
  saw	
  a	
  lot	
  of	
  in	
  German	
  cinema	
  in	
  the	
  1970s.	
  
Too	
  many	
  German	
  films	
  of	
  that	
  era	
  were	
  thin	
  gargling	
  water	
  instead	
  of	
  real	
  thick	
  stout”	
  (Cronin	
  2002:	
  
23).	
  In	
  Reverse	
  Angle:	
  Rebellion	
  of	
  the	
  Filmmakers	
  (Dominik	
  Wessely,	
  2008)	
  Herzog	
  narrates	
  how	
  the	
  
nineteen-­‐year-­‐old	
  Fassbinder	
  came	
  to	
  his	
  office	
  to	
  screen	
  his	
  short	
  films	
  and	
  ask	
  whether	
  Herzog	
  would	
  
act	
  as	
  his	
  producer.	
  Herzog	
  says	
  he	
  told	
  Fassbinder	
  he	
  would	
  have	
  to	
  produce	
  his	
  own	
  films;	
  the	
  two	
  of	
  
them	
  were	
  so	
  different	
  that	
  they	
  would	
  certainly	
  end	
  up	
  in	
  conflict	
  with	
  one	
  another.	
  Herzog	
  later	
  
reflected:	
  “Fassbinder	
  and	
  I	
  had	
  different	
  political	
  perspectives.	
  But	
  as	
  person	
  I	
  always	
  appreciated	
  him”	
  
(Herzog	
  2008:	
  57).	
  Both	
  of	
  them	
  have	
  in	
  common	
  that	
  they	
  are	
  autodidacts	
  (Herzog	
  cut	
  short	
  his	
  
university	
  studies	
  in	
  Munich,	
  while	
  Fassbinder,	
  at	
  around	
  the	
  same	
  time,	
  was	
  being	
  rejected	
  from	
  the	
  
newly	
  established	
  film	
  academy	
  in	
  Berlin	
  [the	
  dffb]),	
  and	
  that	
  they	
  occupy	
  positions	
  at	
  the	
  edges	
  of	
  New	
  
German	
  Cinema’s	
  spectrum.18
	
  In	
  contrast	
  with	
  Herzog’s	
  contemplative	
  and	
  mystical	
  cinema	
  and	
  his	
  
fascination	
  with	
  the	
  opera,	
  Fassbinder	
  made	
  films	
  that	
  were	
  rooted	
  in	
  the	
  contemporary	
  political	
  culture	
  
and	
  in	
  his	
  so-­‐called	
  “Anti-­‐Theater.”19
	
  For	
  his	
  part,	
  Herzog	
  never	
  wanted	
  to	
  be	
  political;	
  unlike	
  Fassbinder	
  
he	
  did	
  not	
  contribute	
  to	
  the	
  omnibus	
  film	
  Germany	
  in	
  Autumn	
  (1978),	
  and	
  by	
  his	
  own	
  account	
  he	
  cannot	
  
stand	
  the	
  theater	
  (Cronin	
  2002:	
  220-­‐21).	
  While	
  Herzog	
  avoids	
  filming	
  nude	
  scenes,	
  car	
  trips,	
  and	
  
telephone	
  conversations	
  as	
  much	
  as	
  possible,	
  Fassbinder,	
  a	
  fan	
  of	
  Hollywood	
  and	
  genre	
  films,	
  took	
  a	
  
passionate	
  interest	
  in	
  interpersonal	
  relationships	
  and	
  in	
  the	
  banal	
  details	
  of	
  everyday	
  life.20
	
  One	
  can	
  
	
  
	
   7
assume	
  that	
  his	
  timely	
  critical	
  melodramas	
  exerted	
  an	
  important	
  influence	
  on	
  people	
  like	
  Hans	
  W.	
  
Geissendörfer,	
  one	
  of	
  Fassbinder’s	
  partners	
  at	
  Filmverlag	
  der	
  Autoren	
  who	
  became	
  the	
  creator,	
  
producer,	
  and	
  initially	
  even	
  a	
  director	
  of	
  Lindenstrasse,	
  the	
  first	
  German	
  soap	
  opera	
  (which	
  has	
  aired	
  
continuously	
  on	
  public	
  TV	
  since	
  1985).	
  By	
  contrast,	
  Herzog	
  worked	
  from	
  the	
  very	
  beginning	
  of	
  his	
  career	
  
on	
  a	
  particular	
  fusion	
  of	
  fictional	
  and	
  documentary	
  forms.	
  In	
  their	
  combination	
  of	
  powerful	
  symbolism	
  
and	
  unmediated	
  authenticity,	
  his	
  films	
  exceed	
  TV’s	
  diminutive	
  frame.	
  While	
  Herzog	
  places	
  a	
  lot	
  of	
  value	
  
on	
  the	
  choice	
  of	
  locations	
  and	
  seems	
  pleased	
  when	
  his	
  productions	
  are	
  obstructed	
  by	
  that	
  natural	
  world	
  
he	
  transforms	
  into	
  “inner	
  landscapes”	
  on	
  the	
  editing	
  table,	
  the	
  chain-­‐smoking	
  Fassbinder	
  sought	
  mostly	
  
tight	
  interiors,	
  which	
  created	
  a	
  kind	
  of	
  hothouse	
  atmosphere	
  in	
  which	
  personal,	
  “inner	
  worlds”	
  were	
  
staged.21
	
  
	
   But	
  both	
  filmmakers	
  share	
  a	
  sense	
  of	
  regional	
  rootedness	
  and	
  a	
  certain	
  rural	
  resolve	
  that	
  has	
  
enabled	
  them	
  to	
  successfully	
  pursue	
  their	
  completely	
  personal	
  visions	
  of	
  filmmaking	
  in	
  the	
  face	
  of	
  both	
  
obstacles	
  and	
  critics’	
  reservations.	
  No	
  other	
  German	
  filmmakers	
  of	
  that	
  generation	
  polarized	
  the	
  public	
  
sphere	
  to	
  the	
  extent	
  that	
  these	
  two	
  did	
  for	
  years.	
  While	
  Herzog	
  was	
  chided	
  for	
  indulging	
  in	
  a	
  neo-­‐fascist	
  
Romanticism,	
  mainly	
  during	
  the	
  filming	
  of	
  Fitzcarraldo,	
  1982	
  (which	
  was	
  released	
  the	
  year	
  Fassbinder	
  
died),	
  Fassbinder’s	
  play	
  Garbage,	
  the	
  City,	
  and	
  Death	
  (1974)	
  unleashed	
  a	
  scandal,	
  in	
  the	
  course	
  of	
  which	
  
its	
  writer-­‐director	
  was	
  labeled	
  a	
  “left-­‐fascist”	
  and	
  an	
  anti-­‐Semite	
  (Baer	
  1982:	
  128).	
  Since	
  the	
  beginning	
  
of	
  their	
  careers	
  both	
  filmmakers’	
  productivity	
  was	
  hardly	
  outmatched.	
  In	
  Fassbinder’s	
  case	
  the	
  unilateral	
  
overstrain	
  contributed	
  to	
  an	
  early	
  death	
  that	
  posthumously	
  gave	
  him	
  a	
  legendary	
  status	
  akin	
  to	
  a	
  
number	
  of	
  1970s	
  rock	
  stars.	
  By	
  contrast,	
  Herzog	
  succeeded	
  in	
  being	
  the	
  only	
  New	
  German	
  filmmaker—
unlike	
  his	
  colleague	
  Wim	
  Wenders—who,	
  through	
  emigrating	
  and	
  rediscovering	
  himself	
  at	
  the	
  age	
  of	
  
fifty,	
  successfully	
  averted	
  creative	
  decline.	
  Evidently,	
  Fassbinder	
  had	
  also	
  played	
  with	
  the	
  idea	
  of	
  
“getting	
  out	
  of	
  Germany”	
  and	
  “shooting	
  a	
  film	
  in	
  America”	
  (Binotto	
  2002:	
  74).	
  Whether	
  he	
  would	
  have	
  
been	
  able	
  to	
  establish	
  himself	
  there,	
  given	
  his	
  directing	
  style	
  and	
  his	
  history	
  of	
  authoritarian	
  
relationships	
  with	
  actors	
  and	
  collaborators,	
  is	
  yet	
  another	
  matter.	
  
	
   What	
  mainly	
  disturbs	
  Herzog	
  about	
  theater	
  productions	
  and	
  TV	
  programs	
  are	
  the	
  patterns	
  of	
  
speech	
  practiced	
  there	
  (see	
  Rost	
  1986:	
  71,	
  126).	
  In	
  I	
  Am	
  My	
  Films—A	
  Portrait	
  of	
  Werner	
  Herzog	
  
(Christian	
  Weisenborn	
  and	
  Erwin	
  Keusch,	
  1979),	
  Herzog	
  reproaches	
  his	
  interviewer	
  Laurens	
  Straub	
  that	
  
his	
  questions	
  are,	
  “too	
  much	
  like	
  a	
  talk	
  show.”	
  In	
  his	
  own	
  films,	
  starting	
  with	
  The	
  Great	
  Ecstasy	
  of	
  
Woodcarver	
  Steiner	
  (1973),	
  Herzog	
  voiced	
  the	
  narration	
  himself	
  (usually	
  in	
  the	
  form	
  of	
  extradiegetic	
  
commentary),	
  rather	
  than	
  leaving	
  everything	
  to	
  professionals	
  schooled	
  in	
  rhetoric.	
  In	
  all	
  cases	
  the	
  
question	
  was	
  one	
  of	
  authentic	
  expression,	
  not	
  eclipsed	
  by	
  vanity	
  or	
  other	
  charades.	
  Communication—or	
  
	
  
	
   8
its	
  impossibility—is	
  generally	
  a	
  leitmotif	
  in	
  his	
  films,	
  and	
  one	
  should	
  not	
  underestimate	
  the	
  role	
  in	
  that	
  
interest	
  played	
  by	
  the	
  fact	
  that	
  the	
  upper-­‐Bavarian	
  dialect	
  is	
  in	
  fact	
  Herzog’s	
  mother	
  tongue,	
  and	
  that	
  
German	
  is	
  in	
  some	
  respects	
  the	
  director’s	
  first	
  foreign	
  language.22
	
  Although	
  the	
  Bavarian	
  dialect,	
  
alongside	
  that	
  of	
  Berlin,	
  is	
  among	
  Germany’s	
  most	
  beloved	
  (and	
  among	
  those	
  most	
  often	
  heard	
  in	
  films),	
  
speakers	
  of	
  southern	
  German	
  tongues	
  always	
  run	
  the	
  risk	
  that	
  they	
  won’t	
  be	
  taken	
  seriously	
  by	
  their	
  
northern	
  countrymen.	
  Even	
  for	
  German	
  audiences,	
  one	
  of	
  the	
  great	
  charms	
  of	
  My	
  Best	
  Fiend	
  (1999),	
  
Herzog’s	
  narrative	
  about	
  his	
  relationship	
  with	
  Klaus	
  Kinski,	
  lies	
  in	
  the	
  contrast	
  between	
  the	
  serious	
  tone	
  
of	
  Herzog’s	
  voice	
  and	
  his	
  southern	
  inflection.	
  One	
  could	
  go	
  so	
  far	
  as	
  to	
  assert	
  that	
  a	
  reason	
  for	
  his	
  
flirtation	
  with	
  a	
  vague	
  anti-­‐intellectualism	
  lies	
  with	
  tendencies	
  on	
  the	
  part	
  of	
  German-­‐speaking	
  
academics	
  to	
  hold	
  against	
  Herzog	
  his	
  linguistic	
  rootedness	
  in	
  the	
  more	
  coarse	
  and	
  direct—arguably	
  less	
  
abstract	
  and	
  ironic—Bavarian	
  dialect.	
  He	
  did	
  not	
  learn	
  Bavarian	
  in	
  Munich,	
  but	
  rather	
  in	
  Sachrang,	
  in	
  the	
  
Bavarian	
  Alps	
  bordering	
  Austria,	
  where	
  he	
  grew	
  up	
  in	
  what	
  could	
  be	
  described	
  as	
  the	
  German	
  jungle	
  
(especially	
  when	
  one	
  takes	
  into	
  consideration	
  how	
  removed	
  from	
  civilization	
  and	
  surrounded	
  by	
  
mountains	
  and	
  forests	
  the	
  village	
  was	
  in	
  the	
  1940s	
  and	
  1950s).	
  The	
  freedoms	
  associated	
  with	
  the	
  
postwar	
  period,	
  which	
  coincided	
  with	
  a	
  dearth	
  of	
  reliable	
  authority	
  figures,	
  clearly	
  had	
  something	
  to	
  do	
  
with	
  Herzog’s	
  extraordinary	
  self-­‐confidence.23
	
  
	
   Sachrang	
  is	
  currently	
  a	
  pleasant	
  place	
  with	
  a	
  number	
  of	
  completely	
  renovated	
  or	
  newly	
  built	
  
farmhouses,	
  a	
  ski	
  school,	
  a	
  well-­‐maintained	
  cross-­‐country	
  ski	
  run,	
  and	
  a	
  handful	
  of	
  taverns.	
  Because	
  the	
  
hillsides	
  can	
  hardly	
  be	
  described	
  as	
  dangerous,	
  and	
  because	
  Sachrang	
  does	
  not	
  lack	
  for	
  snow	
  and	
  
sunshine	
  in	
  winter,	
  the	
  town	
  has	
  established	
  itself	
  as	
  a	
  holiday	
  destination	
  where	
  one	
  can	
  engage	
  in	
  
winter	
  sports	
  with	
  one’s	
  children.	
  Herzog	
  also	
  partook;	
  in	
  the	
  district	
  known	
  as	
  “Berg”	
  (mountain	
  or,	
  in	
  
this	
  case,	
  alp)	
  he	
  lived	
  nearly	
  adjacent	
  to	
  a	
  ski	
  jump	
  that	
  still	
  exists	
  today	
  and	
  upon	
  which	
  he	
  must	
  have	
  
first	
  discovered	
  his	
  enthusiasm	
  for	
  “ski-­‐flying,”	
  the	
  sport	
  to	
  which	
  The	
  Great	
  Ecstasy	
  of	
  Woodcarver	
  
Steiner	
  is	
  devoted.	
  But	
  Herzog’s	
  name	
  is	
  hardly	
  known	
  to	
  Sachrang’s	
  contemporary	
  residents.	
  As	
  great	
  
an	
  impression	
  as	
  the	
  town	
  seems	
  to	
  have	
  had	
  on	
  his	
  personality,	
  is	
  as	
  little	
  of	
  an	
  impression	
  he	
  left	
  
there.	
  It	
  seems	
  that	
  this	
  widely	
  traveled	
  man	
  has	
  nowhere	
  left	
  fewer	
  traces	
  behind	
  than	
  there.	
  The	
  star	
  
in	
  Sachrang	
  is	
  not	
  Werner	
  the	
  ecstatic,	
  but	
  rather	
  “Peter	
  the	
  Miller”	
  (Der	
  Müllner-­‐Peter),	
  born	
  Peter	
  
Huber	
  in	
  1766.	
  Huber	
  had	
  an	
  extraordinary	
  education	
  for	
  a	
  miller,	
  which	
  included	
  knowledge	
  of	
  music	
  
and	
  medicine	
  upon	
  which	
  he	
  seems	
  to	
  have	
  come	
  inexplicably.	
  In	
  the	
  1970s	
  Carl	
  Oskar	
  Renner	
  wrote	
  a	
  
novel	
  based	
  on	
  the	
  sparse	
  set	
  of	
  details	
  that	
  are	
  known	
  about	
  this	
  folkloric	
  figure,	
  and	
  Bavarian	
  
Broadcasting	
  (Bayerischer	
  Rundfunk)	
  adapted	
  the	
  novel	
  at	
  great	
  expense	
  as	
  a	
  three-­‐part	
  miniseries—
from	
  a	
  teleplay	
  by	
  Oliver	
  Storz	
  and	
  under	
  the	
  direction	
  of	
  Wolf	
  Dietrich—entitled	
  Sachrang:	
  A	
  Chronicle	
  
	
  
	
   9
from	
  the	
  Mountains	
  (1978).24
	
  In	
  Renner’s	
  fiction	
  the	
  unusual	
  miller	
  is	
  grossly	
  caricatured;	
  his	
  pride	
  and	
  
his	
  will	
  to	
  defy	
  authorities	
  are	
  so	
  pronounced	
  that	
  it	
  is	
  difficult	
  not	
  to	
  think	
  of	
  the	
  motivating	
  forces	
  
behind	
  Herzog’s	
  work.	
  Herzog	
  likes	
  to	
  stylize	
  himself	
  similarly	
  as	
  someone	
  to	
  whom	
  knowledge	
  and	
  
abilities	
  come	
  in	
  secret	
  ways,	
  and	
  as	
  someone	
  who	
  is	
  virtually	
  fearless.25
	
  Moreover,	
  because—with	
  the	
  
exception	
  of	
  Fini	
  Straubinger	
  in	
  Land	
  of	
  Silence	
  and	
  Darkness	
  (1971)	
  and	
  Juliane	
  Köpcke	
  in	
  Wings	
  of	
  
Hope	
  (1998)—few	
  female	
  figures	
  are	
  central	
  to	
  his	
  films,	
  one	
  wonders	
  whether	
  Herzog	
  would	
  have	
  been	
  
impressed	
  by	
  the	
  story	
  of	
  Peter’s	
  strong	
  and	
  assertive	
  wife,	
  who	
  was	
  always	
  in	
  the	
  shadow	
  of	
  her	
  
husband’s	
  unusualness,	
  or	
  “eccentricity.”	
  Maria	
  Hell	
  was	
  a	
  good	
  deal	
  younger	
  than	
  her	
  husband;	
  he	
  
married	
  her	
  at	
  the	
  proud	
  age	
  of	
  48,	
  although	
  he	
  was	
  repeatedly	
  warned	
  away	
  from	
  her.	
  She	
  led	
  an	
  
inappropriate	
  life	
  for	
  a	
  farmer,	
  which	
  means,	
  simply	
  put,	
  that	
  because	
  she	
  had	
  musical	
  and	
  artistic	
  
talents	
  similar	
  to	
  those	
  of	
  her	
  husband,	
  she	
  was,	
  against	
  the	
  social	
  conventions,	
  unwilling	
  to	
  wither	
  
away.	
  The	
  bedroom	
  furniture	
  that	
  she	
  brought	
  into	
  the	
  marriage	
  (in	
  accord	
  with	
  tradition),	
  she	
  is	
  said	
  to	
  
have	
  painted	
  herself.	
  According	
  to	
  the	
  oral	
  lore	
  she	
  was	
  a	
  carpenter,	
  but	
  historians	
  apparently	
  strongly	
  
doubt	
  this	
  because	
  at	
  the	
  family	
  property—the	
  Ertlhof—the	
  requisite	
  tools	
  are	
  not	
  to	
  be	
  found.	
  Without	
  
having	
  given	
  her	
  husband	
  a	
  child	
  Maria	
  Hell	
  drowned	
  in	
  1824	
  in	
  the	
  high	
  waters	
  of	
  the	
  Prien	
  River,	
  and	
  
for	
  this	
  as	
  well—according	
  to	
  the	
  legend—she	
  may	
  have	
  been	
  responsible.	
  Was	
  it	
  a	
  despairing	
  suicide	
  
owing	
  to	
  the	
  impossibility	
  of	
  self-­‐realization?	
  
	
   Herzog’s	
  declaration	
  that	
  he	
  is	
  a	
  Bavarian	
  thus	
  leads	
  back	
  to	
  an	
  array	
  of	
  attributes	
  connected	
  
with	
  the	
  region.	
  There	
  is:	
  the	
  claim	
  of	
  singularity,	
  or,	
  the	
  will	
  to	
  a	
  special	
  status;	
  the	
  particularly	
  
pronounced	
  tension	
  between	
  individualism	
  and	
  the	
  extremes	
  of	
  authoritarianism	
  and	
  anarchy	
  that	
  
became	
  the	
  basis	
  for	
  Herzog’s	
  system	
  of	
  inversion	
  and	
  for	
  his	
  eccentricity	
  of	
  the	
  meaningful;	
  and	
  the	
  
overarching	
  Catholic	
  Baroque	
  tendencies	
  associated	
  with	
  dreamy,	
  fairytale	
  mysticisms	
  and	
  with	
  rural	
  
environs	
  (the	
  coarse	
  dialect	
  and	
  the	
  mountainous	
  woodlands	
  of	
  the	
  upper	
  Bavarian	
  south	
  where	
  he	
  
grew	
  up).	
  From	
  this	
  ancestral	
  pool	
  Herzog	
  culled	
  the	
  themes	
  and	
  images	
  of	
  his	
  works.	
  While	
  it	
  was	
  
optimal	
  for	
  the	
  development	
  of	
  his	
  character,	
  it	
  also	
  seems	
  to	
  have	
  prepared	
  him	
  to	
  go	
  his	
  own	
  way.	
  
This	
  unique	
  background	
  also	
  kept	
  him	
  from	
  participating	
  in	
  the	
  same	
  existential	
  struggle	
  as	
  others	
  of	
  his	
  
generation;	
  it	
  kept	
  him	
  from	
  paying	
  heed	
  to	
  the	
  dominant	
  Zeitgeist	
  and	
  kowtowing	
  to	
  a	
  certain	
  political	
  
correctness.	
  For	
  this	
  reason,	
  from	
  the	
  end	
  of	
  the	
  1960s	
  through	
  the	
  beginning	
  of	
  the	
  1990s,	
  Herzog	
  was	
  
subjected	
  to	
  massive	
  attacks	
  from	
  critics	
  and	
  intellectuals	
  as	
  well	
  as	
  from	
  leftist	
  activists,	
  who	
  only	
  rarely	
  
demonstrated	
  a	
  nuanced	
  understanding	
  of	
  his	
  life	
  and	
  his	
  films.	
  Instead	
  they	
  argued	
  against	
  him	
  on	
  
purely	
  emotional	
  or	
  ideological	
  levels,	
  and	
  selectively	
  reproached	
  him	
  for	
  his	
  exploitation	
  of	
  defenseless	
  
persons,	
  particularly	
  the	
  handicapped	
  and	
  the	
  indigenous;	
  they	
  said	
  that	
  he	
  “aestheticized”	
  suffering,	
  
	
  
	
   10
and	
  reviled	
  him	
  as	
  a	
  fascist.26
	
  “There’s	
  so	
  much	
  hatred	
  there	
  against	
  my	
  films	
  that	
  you	
  probably	
  
wouldn’t	
  even	
  believe	
  it,”	
  Herzog	
  lamented	
  during	
  a	
  trip	
  to	
  the	
  United	
  States	
  in	
  1979	
  (Walsh	
  1979:	
  9).	
  In	
  
that	
  same	
  year	
  Herzog	
  spoke	
  openly	
  about	
  leaving	
  Germany,	
  but	
  his	
  claim	
  was	
  conditional:	
  “I	
  will	
  not,	
  
don’t	
  want	
  to	
  and	
  can’t	
  emigrate	
  to	
  Hollywood.	
  I	
  don’t	
  want	
  to	
  and	
  don’t	
  intend	
  to	
  leave	
  my	
  culture—
my	
  country	
  perhaps,	
  yes”	
  (“Wir	
  sind	
  nicht	
  mehr	
  der	
  Jungfilm”	
  1979:	
  183).	
  Approximately	
  fifteen	
  years	
  
later	
  Herzog	
  finally	
  emigrated	
  to	
  California,	
  first	
  to	
  San	
  Francisco	
  and	
  then	
  to	
  Los	
  Angeles,	
  where	
  he	
  
found	
  greater	
  recognition,	
  established	
  himself	
  as	
  a	
  king	
  of	
  independent	
  cinema,	
  and	
  worked	
  with	
  
Hollywood	
  luminaries	
  including	
  Christian	
  Bale,	
  Nicolas	
  Cage,	
  and	
  Willem	
  Dafoe.	
  Has	
  this	
  been	
  the	
  
unbelievable	
  story	
  of	
  an	
  integration	
  one	
  would	
  never	
  have	
  thought	
  possible,	
  or	
  is	
  it	
  the	
  opposite:	
  the	
  
logical	
  endpoint	
  of	
  a	
  predictable	
  development?	
  How	
  did	
  Herzog	
  shift	
  from	
  being	
  Bavarian	
  to	
  being	
  
Californian?	
  
	
   At	
  the	
  beginning	
  of	
  the	
  1960s,	
  when	
  Herzog	
  came	
  to	
  the	
  United	
  States	
  for	
  the	
  first	
  time,	
  he	
  was	
  
a	
  student	
  of	
  history	
  and	
  literature	
  at	
  the	
  University	
  of	
  Pittsburgh.	
  He	
  came	
  with	
  a	
  fellowship	
  but	
  
returned	
  it	
  shortly	
  after	
  his	
  arrival	
  (Cronin	
  2002:	
  20).	
  Later	
  Herzog	
  filmed	
  Stroszek	
  (1977)—in	
  New	
  York,	
  
in	
  Plainfield,	
  Wisconsin,	
  and	
  in	
  Cherokee,	
  North	
  Carolina—so	
  that	
  he	
  could	
  “define	
  his	
  position	
  on	
  this	
  
country,”	
  as	
  he	
  himself	
  expressed	
  it	
  (Walsh	
  1979:	
  11).	
  He	
  also	
  emphasizes	
  the	
  role	
  played	
  by	
  the	
  New	
  
York	
  Film	
  Festival,	
  which	
  opened	
  its	
  doors	
  to	
  him	
  and	
  to	
  his	
  first	
  feature	
  film	
  Signs	
  of	
  Life	
  (1968),	
  and	
  by	
  
Tom	
  Luddy,	
  program	
  coordinator	
  and	
  later	
  director	
  of	
  the	
  Pacific	
  Film	
  Archive.27
	
  He	
  made	
  both	
  of	
  these	
  
claims	
  in	
  1979	
  during	
  the	
  workshop	
  organized	
  for	
  him	
  in	
  Chicago	
  by	
  Roger	
  Ebert.	
  His	
  friendship	
  with	
  
Ebert,	
  the	
  Chicago	
  Sun	
  Times’s	
  film	
  critic,	
  who	
  in	
  2005	
  was	
  the	
  first	
  member	
  of	
  his	
  profession	
  to	
  receive	
  
a	
  star	
  on	
  Hollywood’s	
  Walk	
  of	
  Fame,	
  contributed	
  decisively	
  to	
  his	
  rising	
  popularity	
  in	
  the	
  land	
  of	
  
boundless	
  opportunity.	
  While	
  Herzog	
  told	
  Jonathan	
  Demme	
  in	
  2008	
  about	
  his	
  aversion	
  to	
  Germany,	
  
Demme	
  read	
  to	
  him	
  from	
  an	
  effusive	
  letter	
  of	
  admiration	
  Ebert	
  had	
  recently	
  written	
  (Ebert	
  2007).	
  
Herzog	
  never	
  had	
  a	
  spokesperson	
  like	
  that	
  in	
  his	
  homeland.	
  A	
  few	
  film	
  critic,	
  like	
  for	
  example	
  Hans	
  
Günther	
  Pflaum,	
  hve	
  passionately	
  defended	
  Herzog’s	
  work	
  since	
  the	
  early	
  1970s,	
  but	
  they	
  did	
  not	
  have	
  a	
  
standing	
  comparable	
  to	
  Ebert’s.	
  The	
  famous	
  film	
  critic	
  and	
  film	
  historian	
  Lotte	
  Eisner	
  praised	
  his	
  debut	
  
Signs	
  of	
  Life	
  up	
  until	
  her	
  death	
  in	
  1983.	
  She	
  was	
  a	
  European	
  film	
  legend,	
  but	
  from	
  her	
  exile	
  in	
  the	
  
Parisian	
  Cinemathèque	
  Française,	
  she	
  had	
  little	
  influence	
  on	
  German	
  public	
  opinion.	
  The	
  recognition	
  
that	
  Herzog	
  enjoyed	
  in	
  the	
  U.S.	
  film	
  scene	
  following	
  Aguirre,	
  the	
  Wrath	
  of	
  God	
  (1972)	
  is	
  on	
  indirect	
  
display	
  in	
  the	
  short	
  film	
  Werner	
  Herzog	
  Eats	
  His	
  Shoe	
  (Les	
  Blank,	
  1980),	
  made	
  in	
  Berkeley,	
  California.	
  
More	
  than	
  anything,	
  that	
  film	
  documents	
  Herzog’s	
  self-­‐confidence;	
  it	
  is	
  a	
  downright	
  ridiculous	
  “action-­‐
advertisement”	
  for	
  the	
  work	
  of	
  Errol	
  Morris,	
  who	
  was	
  at	
  the	
  time	
  a	
  budding	
  but	
  wholly	
  marginal	
  
	
  
	
   11
American	
  filmmaker.	
  Herzog	
  had	
  promised	
  Morris,	
  should	
  he	
  finish	
  his	
  first	
  film,	
  Gates	
  of	
  Heaven,	
  which	
  
he	
  ultimately	
  did	
  complete	
  in	
  1978,	
  that	
  he	
  would	
  eat	
  his	
  shoe.	
  This	
  exploit	
  should	
  not	
  be	
  dismissed	
  all	
  
too	
  quickly	
  as	
  a	
  meaningless	
  private	
  joke.	
  People	
  like	
  Morris	
  (or	
  even	
  Michael	
  Moore),	
  who	
  have	
  an	
  
understanding	
  of	
  the	
  staged,	
  documentary	
  narration	
  of	
  the	
  so-­‐called	
  “new	
  documentary	
  film,”	
  work	
  
along	
  exactly	
  the	
  same	
  front	
  as	
  Herzog	
  himself.28
	
  This	
  distinguishes	
  the	
  United	
  States	
  from	
  Germany,	
  
where	
  a	
  more	
  classical	
  documentary	
  methodology,	
  one	
  that	
  distances	
  itself	
  from	
  fictional	
  film,	
  is	
  
encouraged.	
  
	
   “Front”	
  is	
  yet	
  another	
  significant	
  keyword,	
  especially	
  if	
  one	
  thinks	
  of	
  the	
  term	
  frontier	
  and	
  
broadens	
  it	
  to	
  include	
  the	
  term	
  “frontier	
  spirit.”	
  It	
  stems	
  from	
  a	
  quality	
  of	
  U.S.	
  culture,	
  emerging	
  from	
  
the	
  very	
  recent	
  settlement	
  of	
  the	
  country	
  by	
  Europeans	
  under	
  adventurous	
  conditions—a	
  journey	
  into	
  
the	
  unknown	
  with	
  which	
  Herzog	
  can	
  well	
  identify.	
  And	
  while	
  the	
  director	
  bemoans	
  the	
  “culture	
  of	
  
complaint”	
  in	
  Germany	
  (Herzog	
  2008:	
  64),	
  in	
  California,	
  his	
  adopted	
  homeland,	
  Herzog	
  still	
  encounters	
  
what	
  he	
  describes	
  as	
  a	
  “permanent	
  optimism”	
  (Sponsel	
  and	
  Sebenig	
  2006:	
  52).	
  In	
  the	
  1990s	
  another	
  
well-­‐known	
  southern	
  German	
  with	
  the	
  “frontier	
  spirit”	
  moved,	
  like	
  Herzog,	
  into	
  the	
  Los	
  Angeles	
  area.	
  
The	
  former	
  professional	
  soccer	
  player	
  Jürgen	
  Klinsmann,	
  who	
  was	
  born	
  in	
  1964	
  in	
  the	
  Swabian	
  city	
  of	
  
Göppingen,	
  has	
  lived	
  in	
  Huntington	
  Beach	
  with	
  his	
  Californian	
  wife	
  since	
  1998.	
  From	
  2004	
  to	
  2006	
  
Klinsmann	
  was	
  coach	
  of	
  the	
  German	
  national	
  team,	
  which	
  he	
  revolutionized.	
  He	
  also	
  brought	
  change	
  to	
  
the	
  German	
  Soccer	
  Association,	
  which	
  is	
  among	
  the	
  biggest	
  and	
  richest	
  individual	
  sports	
  organizations.	
  
Klinsmann	
  imitated	
  the	
  commitment	
  of	
  American	
  sports	
  coaches	
  and	
  led	
  the	
  2006	
  German	
  national	
  
team	
  to	
  a	
  surprising	
  third	
  place	
  finish	
  in	
  the	
  world	
  championship	
  (the	
  FIFA	
  World	
  Cup),	
  which	
  was	
  held	
  
in	
  their	
  own	
  country.	
  After	
  that,	
  in	
  July	
  2008,	
  he	
  was	
  taken	
  on	
  as	
  coach	
  by	
  the	
  German	
  soccer	
  champions	
  
FC	
  Bayern	
  Munich	
  in	
  order	
  to	
  bring	
  in	
  fresh	
  ideas	
  and	
  new	
  formations.	
  The	
  arrangement	
  fell	
  apart	
  owing	
  
to	
  the	
  team	
  manager’s	
  impatience,	
  and	
  Klinsmann	
  was	
  let	
  go	
  only	
  ten	
  months	
  after	
  being	
  hired.	
  Despite	
  
the	
  dissimilarities	
  between	
  Herzog	
  and	
  Klinsmann,	
  they	
  share	
  a	
  common	
  “pioneering”	
  spirit—a	
  spirit	
  of	
  
discovery—alongside	
  an	
  enthusiasm	
  for	
  positive	
  thinking	
  (on	
  a	
  rational	
  basis)	
  and	
  an	
  unbelievable	
  
conviction	
  in	
  their	
  own	
  creative	
  powers.	
  California,	
  and	
  especially	
  Los	
  Angeles,	
  quite	
  obviously	
  
represents	
  an	
  environment	
  well	
  suited	
  to	
  such	
  qualities.	
  
	
   When	
  making	
  his	
  first	
  feature	
  length	
  film,	
  Signs	
  of	
  Life,	
  Herzog,	
  at	
  age	
  twenty-­‐five	
  had	
  set	
  forth	
  
for	
  Greece,	
  which	
  had	
  yet	
  to	
  be	
  overrun	
  by	
  tourists.	
  Since	
  then	
  he	
  has	
  grazed	
  every	
  continent	
  for	
  
unused	
  images,	
  and	
  has	
  even	
  sought	
  out	
  footage	
  from	
  outer	
  space	
  and	
  from	
  the	
  depths	
  of	
  the	
  ocean	
  (as	
  
in	
  The	
  Wild	
  Blue	
  Yonder	
  [2005]).29
	
  He	
  shares	
  a	
  constant	
  longing	
  to	
  be	
  on	
  the	
  road,	
  crossing	
  boundaries	
  
and	
  pushing	
  limits,	
  akin	
  to	
  that	
  of	
  the	
  famous	
  South	
  Tyrolian	
  Alpinist	
  Reinhold	
  Messner,	
  about	
  whom	
  he	
  
	
  
	
   12
made	
  the	
  cinematic	
  portrait	
  The	
  Dark	
  Glow	
  of	
  the	
  Mountains	
  (1984).	
  At	
  that	
  time	
  the	
  two	
  planned	
  a	
  
collaborative	
  film	
  project	
  in	
  the	
  Himalayas,	
  which	
  never	
  came	
  about.30
	
  Both	
  Messner	
  and	
  Herzog	
  grew	
  
up	
  in	
  little	
  locales	
  surrounded	
  by	
  mountains.	
  One	
  recalls	
  that	
  Herzog	
  comes	
  from	
  the	
  district	
  known	
  as	
  
Berg,	
  and	
  in	
  fact	
  the	
  mountains	
  have	
  long	
  served	
  as	
  the	
  German	
  frontier	
  (as	
  the	
  boundary	
  to	
  the	
  south)	
  
and	
  the	
  Bergfilm,	
  or	
  “mountain-­‐film,”	
  can	
  even	
  be	
  seen	
  as	
  the	
  German	
  western.31
	
  This	
  parallel	
  also	
  
expresses	
  itself	
  in	
  the	
  work	
  of	
  individual	
  directors.	
  The	
  last	
  film	
  and	
  consequently	
  the	
  legacy	
  of	
  the	
  
Austrian-­‐born	
  Fred	
  Zinnemann,	
  the	
  Jewish	
  émigré	
  who	
  today	
  is	
  best	
  known	
  for	
  the	
  western	
  High	
  Noon	
  
(1952),	
  is	
  the	
  mountain	
  film	
  Five	
  Days	
  One	
  Summer	
  (1982).	
  The	
  film	
  picks	
  up	
  motifs	
  that	
  can	
  already	
  be	
  
found	
  in	
  films	
  from	
  The	
  White	
  Hell	
  of	
  Piz	
  Palü	
  (Arnold	
  Fanck	
  and	
  Georg	
  Wilhelm	
  Pabst,	
  1929)	
  through	
  to	
  
Föhn	
  (Rolf	
  Hansen,	
  1950).	
  In	
  this	
  case,	
  frontier	
  spirit	
  denotes	
  a	
  mixture	
  of	
  courage	
  and	
  the	
  capacity	
  to	
  
coolly	
  calculate	
  dangers,	
  qualities	
  that—dissociated	
  from	
  their	
  national	
  and	
  historical	
  associations—
Herzog	
  ascribes	
  not	
  only	
  to	
  himself	
  and	
  to	
  Messner,	
  but	
  also	
  to	
  two	
  other	
  émigrés,	
  the	
  protagonists	
  of	
  
Little	
  Dieter	
  Needs	
  to	
  Fly	
  (1998)	
  and	
  Wings	
  of	
  Hope,	
  Dieter	
  Dengler	
  and	
  Juliane	
  Köpcke.32
	
  Köpcke	
  was	
  the	
  
sole	
  survivor	
  of	
  the	
  crash	
  of	
  a	
  plane	
  on	
  which	
  Herzog	
  was	
  originally	
  supposed	
  to	
  be	
  flying.	
  Afterward,	
  
she	
  walked	
  for	
  days	
  through	
  the	
  Peruvian	
  jungle	
  until	
  she	
  was	
  finally	
  discovered	
  in	
  a	
  state	
  of	
  complete	
  
exhaustion.	
  About	
  her,	
  Herzog	
  says:	
  “What	
  I	
  like	
  very	
  much	
  about	
  Juliane	
  is	
  that	
  she	
  did	
  everything	
  right	
  
in	
  order	
  to	
  survive	
  her	
  ordeal”	
  (Cronin	
  2002:	
  268).	
  He	
  adds,	
  “the	
  only	
  reason	
  she	
  survived	
  […]	
  was	
  
because	
  of	
  her	
  ability	
  to	
  act	
  methodically	
  through	
  those	
  absolutely	
  dire	
  circumstances”	
  (270).	
  With	
  
Dieter	
  Dengler	
  Herzog’s	
  veneration	
  goes	
  even	
  further.	
  As	
  Ian	
  Buruma	
  notes:	
  “Dieter	
  is	
  himself	
  a	
  
marvelous	
  narrator,	
  whose	
  German-­‐inflected	
  voice	
  blends	
  interestingly	
  with	
  Herzog’s	
  to	
  the	
  point	
  of	
  
becoming	
  almost	
  indistinguishable.	
  This	
  is	
  more	
  than	
  a	
  simple	
  case	
  of	
  the	
  director’s	
  identification	
  with	
  
his	
  subject;	
  he	
  almost	
  becomes	
  Dieter”	
  (Buruma	
  2007:	
  26).	
  
	
   Similar	
  to	
  Herzog,	
  Dieter	
  grew	
  up	
  during	
  World	
  War	
  II	
  in	
  the	
  Black	
  Forest	
  (Schwarzwald),	
  a	
  rural	
  
and	
  mountainous	
  region	
  in	
  southern	
  Germany.	
  He	
  left	
  Germany	
  for	
  the	
  United	
  States	
  shortly	
  after	
  the	
  
war	
  with	
  the	
  stated	
  goal	
  of	
  becoming	
  a	
  pilot	
  and	
  was,	
  during	
  the	
  Vietnam	
  War,	
  shot	
  down	
  on	
  his	
  first	
  
mission	
  after	
  only	
  forty	
  minutes.	
  Dengler	
  became	
  an	
  involuntary	
  hero	
  because	
  he	
  was	
  the	
  lone	
  
American	
  POW	
  to	
  escape	
  imprisonment	
  in	
  the	
  jungle.	
  Herzog	
  marveled	
  at	
  this	
  deed,	
  which	
  Dengler	
  
seems	
  to	
  have	
  achieved	
  primarily	
  for	
  reasons	
  of	
  his	
  unflappably	
  positive	
  attitude,	
  so	
  much	
  so	
  that	
  he	
  
chose	
  him	
  as	
  a	
  role	
  model.	
  Not	
  for	
  nothing	
  Herzog	
  tells	
  how	
  during	
  the	
  filming	
  of	
  Rescue	
  Dawn	
  (2006),	
  
the	
  feature	
  film	
  remake	
  of	
  his	
  documentary	
  about	
  Dengler,	
  when	
  he	
  did	
  not	
  know	
  what	
  to	
  do,	
  he	
  would	
  
ask	
  himself,	
  “what	
  would	
  Dieter	
  do?”33
	
  
	
  
	
   13
	
   Without	
  a	
  doubt	
  it	
  plays	
  a	
  significant	
  part	
  in	
  Herzog’s	
  decision	
  to	
  emigrate	
  that	
  his	
  films	
  have	
  
met	
  with	
  a	
  more	
  positive	
  reception	
  in	
  the	
  United	
  States	
  and	
  especially	
  in	
  California.34
	
  He	
  has	
  also	
  found	
  
an	
  enormous	
  creative	
  wellspring	
  there,	
  which	
  he	
  seemed	
  not	
  to	
  find	
  in	
  Germany.	
  Nonetheless,	
  at	
  first	
  
glance	
  there	
  is	
  a	
  tremendous	
  contrast	
  between	
  his	
  nostalgia	
  for	
  Bavaria	
  and	
  his	
  life	
  in	
  California.	
  In	
  
California	
  Herzog	
  probably	
  finds	
  it	
  difficult	
  to	
  undertake	
  his	
  inspirational	
  constitutionals.	
  But	
  just	
  as	
  he	
  
consistently	
  emphasizes	
  an	
  athletic	
  approach	
  to	
  filmmaking,	
  the	
  activity	
  of	
  a	
  director	
  is	
  primarily	
  to	
  
create	
  “substitutes	
  for	
  dreams.”35
	
  In	
  Herzog’s	
  case	
  the	
  claim	
  is	
  entirely	
  literal:	
  he	
  maintains	
  that	
  he	
  
suffers	
  from	
  not	
  being	
  able	
  to	
  dream	
  (Cronin	
  2002:	
  61).	
  Where	
  else,	
  then,	
  would	
  he	
  be	
  better	
  off	
  than	
  in	
  
the	
  city	
  that	
  is	
  home	
  to	
  Hollywood,	
  the	
  so-­‐called	
  “dream-­‐factory”?	
  Even	
  if	
  Herzog	
  still	
  remains	
  deeply	
  
bound	
  to	
  his	
  Bavarian	
  homeland,	
  it	
  clearly	
  offers	
  him	
  too	
  little	
  room	
  for	
  his	
  visions.	
  In	
  exchanging	
  
Bavaria	
  and	
  California,	
  Herzog	
  traded	
  what	
  was	
  beloved	
  but	
  unbearably	
  parochial	
  for	
  a	
  culture	
  that	
  was	
  
ugly	
  on	
  its	
  surface	
  yet	
  came	
  equipped	
  with	
  an	
  enormous	
  imagination.36
	
  According	
  to	
  Herzog	
  a	
  significant	
  
part	
  of	
  the	
  human	
  dreams	
  and	
  cultural	
  trends	
  from	
  the	
  last	
  fifty	
  years	
  have	
  come	
  from	
  Los	
  Angeles,	
  
which	
  also	
  include,	
  “idiotic	
  behavior	
  like	
  hippies	
  and	
  pot	
  smoking	
  …	
  Or	
  skateboards	
  and	
  aerobics”	
  
(Herzog	
  2008:	
  87).	
  But	
  the	
  prerequisite	
  for	
  Herzog’s	
  exchange	
  of	
  homelands	
  was	
  a	
  process,	
  during	
  which	
  
concrete	
  elements	
  that	
  were	
  associated	
  with	
  his	
  ancestry	
  had	
  to	
  be	
  brought	
  to	
  an	
  abstract	
  level—a	
  level	
  
of	
  dreams—in	
  order	
  that	
  they	
  might	
  be	
  resurrected	
  elsewhere.	
  This	
  transformation	
  is	
  documented	
  
through	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass,	
  Herzog’s	
  very	
  personal	
  “Heimat”	
  film	
  based	
  on	
  Achternbusch’s	
  screenplay.	
  That	
  
Herzog	
  takes	
  distance	
  from	
  the	
  figures	
  of	
  his	
  childhood	
  in	
  that	
  film	
  is	
  evinced	
  in	
  the	
  fact	
  that	
  he	
  
hypnotized	
  all	
  the	
  actors,	
  with	
  the	
  exception	
  of	
  Josef	
  Bierbichler,	
  who	
  plays	
  the	
  seer	
  (and	
  who	
  is,	
  for	
  
that	
  reason,	
  an	
  alter-­‐ego	
  of	
  the	
  director).	
  Consequently,	
  his	
  actors	
  communicate	
  with	
  him	
  and	
  with	
  us	
  as	
  
if	
  through	
  a	
  veil	
  of	
  fog.	
  We	
  interact	
  similarly	
  with	
  the	
  Bavarian	
  landscape,	
  which	
  we	
  first	
  encounter	
  in	
  a	
  
time-­‐lapse	
  sequence.	
  Clouds	
  cover	
  the	
  landscape	
  and	
  then	
  are	
  supplemented	
  with	
  slightly	
  visually	
  
distorted	
  images	
  from	
  Alaska,	
  Yellowstone	
  National	
  Park,	
  Monument	
  Valley,	
  and	
  Niagara	
  Falls.37
	
  Herzog	
  
explains,	
  “This	
  is	
  Bavaria,	
  but	
  so	
  stylized	
  and	
  crafted	
  that	
  you	
  can	
  not	
  recognize	
  it	
  as	
  that.	
  Basically	
  it	
  is	
  
the	
  landscape	
  of	
  a	
  western.”38
	
  Through	
  his	
  presence-­‐manipulating	
  hypnosis	
  and	
  through	
  the	
  appearance	
  
of	
  distorting	
  optical	
  tricks,	
  the	
  specifically	
  local	
  characteristics	
  of	
  otherwise	
  familiar	
  landscapes	
  become	
  
bodiless,	
  internalized	
  images	
  that	
  can	
  be	
  reconstructed	
  as	
  various	
  locations	
  of	
  the	
  earth.	
  Brad	
  Prager	
  
notes:	
  “While	
  the	
  film	
  may	
  be	
  construed	
  as	
  a	
  comment	
  about	
  German	
  Heimat,	
  the	
  director’s	
  expressed	
  
intention	
  is	
  to	
  universalize	
  his	
  landscapes	
  of	
  the	
  mind”	
  (2007:	
  98).	
  It	
  seems	
  imperative	
  to	
  expand	
  this	
  
claim	
  to	
  include	
  his	
  “characters	
  of	
  the	
  mind.”	
  Herzog	
  is	
  not	
  an	
  explorer	
  in	
  the	
  sense	
  that	
  he	
  would	
  be	
  
interested	
  in	
  continually	
  accumulating	
  new	
  impressions	
  from	
  a	
  manifold	
  of	
  lives	
  or	
  simply	
  in	
  collecting	
  
	
  
	
   14
landscapes.	
  He	
  is	
  instead	
  interested	
  in	
  repeatedly	
  identifying	
  certain	
  patterns,	
  ones	
  sought	
  and	
  found	
  in	
  
a	
  variety	
  of	
  forms	
  and	
  in	
  different	
  places.	
  
	
   The	
  hypnosis	
  in	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass	
  is	
  not	
  primarily	
  directed	
  at	
  the	
  viewer,	
  as	
  it	
  is	
  in	
  Lars	
  von	
  Trier’s	
  
hypnotic	
  Europa	
  trilogy.39
	
  Instead	
  it	
  assumes,	
  next	
  to	
  the	
  narrative	
  formalization—its	
  “somnambulistic	
  
journey	
  into	
  the	
  sunset”	
  (schlafwandlerische[n]	
  Hineingehen[s]	
  in	
  den	
  Untergang	
  [Hortmeyer	
  1976:	
  
48])—the	
  function	
  of	
  a	
  reflection	
  on	
  memory.	
  As	
  a	
  sideline	
  the	
  film	
  deals	
  with	
  the	
  forgotten	
  formula	
  for	
  
the	
  manufacture	
  of	
  ruby	
  glass.	
  Not	
  coincidentally	
  Klaus	
  Wyborny’s	
  visual	
  effects	
  are	
  similar	
  to	
  those	
  that	
  
Chris	
  Marker	
  manufactured	
  with	
  an	
  analog	
  image-­‐synthesizer	
  for	
  his	
  Sans	
  Soleil	
  (1983),	
  an	
  essay	
  film	
  
that	
  “contemplates	
  the	
  nature	
  of	
  memory,	
  history,	
  and	
  representation”	
  (Lupton	
  2005:	
  149).40
	
  In	
  von	
  
Trier’s	
  Europa	
  (1991)	
  the	
  hypnotist-­‐narrator	
  directly	
  addresses	
  the	
  viewer,	
  although	
  this	
  is	
  more	
  of	
  a	
  
commentary	
  on	
  the	
  hypnotic	
  qualities	
  generally	
  attributed	
  to	
  the	
  film	
  than	
  a	
  serious	
  attempt	
  to	
  
hypnotize	
  its	
  viewers.	
  Herzog	
  had	
  actually	
  once	
  played	
  with	
  the	
  idea	
  of	
  hypnotizing	
  the	
  public	
  before	
  the	
  
beginning	
  of	
  screenings,	
  but	
  he	
  refrained	
  (Cronin	
  2002:	
  130).	
  “Hypnotic”	
  films	
  like	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass	
  tend	
  
not	
  only	
  to	
  lull	
  the	
  concentration	
  of	
  the	
  viewer,	
  but	
  demand,	
  for	
  precisely	
  that	
  reason—in	
  contrast,	
  for	
  
example,	
  with	
  action	
  films—the	
  highest	
  degree	
  of	
  concentration,	
  and	
  they	
  make	
  great	
  demands	
  on	
  the	
  
conscious	
  mind.	
  Eric	
  Rentschler	
  does	
  not	
  account	
  for	
  this	
  when	
  he	
  alleges	
  that	
  Herzog	
  has,	
  in	
  the	
  case	
  of	
  
Heart	
  of	
  Glass,	
  taken	
  on	
  exclusively	
  the	
  negative	
  side	
  of	
  those	
  Weimar	
  films	
  that	
  demonstrate	
  a	
  
predilection	
  for	
  hypnosis	
  (such	
  as	
  Dr.	
  Mabuse	
  the	
  Gambler	
  [Fritz	
  Lang,	
  1922])	
  (Rentschler	
  1986:	
  160).	
  
The	
  parallels	
  between	
  Herzog	
  and	
  von	
  Trier	
  (who	
  is	
  quoted	
  on	
  the	
  German	
  DVD	
  packaging	
  of	
  Heart	
  of	
  
Glass	
  as	
  saying,	
  “a	
  fantastic	
  film”)	
  are	
  not	
  exhausted	
  by	
  their	
  mutual	
  fascination	
  with	
  hypnosis.	
  The	
  
sacrifice	
  that	
  Emily	
  Watson’s	
  character,	
  Bess	
  McNeill,	
  undertakes	
  on	
  behalf	
  of	
  her	
  husband	
  in	
  von	
  Trier’s	
  
Breaking	
  the	
  Waves	
  (1996),	
  for	
  example,	
  is	
  somewhat	
  similar	
  in	
  its	
  spiritual	
  and	
  downright	
  ecstatic	
  
qualities	
  to	
  that	
  which	
  Herzog	
  had	
  to	
  undergo	
  when	
  he	
  walked	
  on	
  foot	
  from	
  Munich	
  to	
  Paris	
  in	
  winter	
  of	
  
1974	
  in	
  the	
  hope	
  of	
  saving	
  Lotte	
  Eisner’s	
  life.	
  The	
  coastal	
  Scottish	
  highland,	
  which	
  plays	
  a	
  supporting	
  role	
  
in	
  von	
  Trier’s	
  film,	
  lies	
  both	
  geographically	
  and	
  conceptually	
  close	
  to	
  the	
  Skellig	
  Rocks,	
  which	
  are	
  near	
  
Ireland	
  and	
  are	
  where	
  the	
  closing	
  sequence	
  of	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass	
  was	
  filmed.	
  Herzog	
  describes	
  filming	
  the	
  
pivotal	
  point	
  of	
  the	
  scene,	
  where,	
  “there	
  was	
  one	
  man,	
  who	
  stands	
  on	
  the	
  peak	
  of	
  a	
  cliff	
  and	
  stares	
  at	
  
the	
  ocean,	
  into	
  the	
  unknown.”	
  He	
  adds,	
  “This	
  small	
  figure,	
  seen	
  from	
  the	
  distance	
  is	
  a	
  self-­‐portrait”	
  
(Paganelli	
  2008:	
  122).	
  In	
  this	
  portrait,	
  one	
  can	
  imagine	
  the	
  young	
  Herzog,	
  living	
  in	
  his	
  Bavarian	
  village	
  
where	
  he	
  had	
  not	
  yet	
  heard	
  of	
  technical	
  achievements	
  like	
  the	
  telephone	
  or	
  the	
  cinema	
  (Cronin	
  2002:	
  
4).	
  He	
  explains:	
  “At	
  the	
  very	
  end	
  […]	
  some	
  people	
  venture	
  out	
  in	
  a	
  boat,	
  in	
  a	
  very	
  fragile	
  boat,	
  onto	
  the	
  
open	
  ocean,	
  because	
  they	
  want	
  to	
  explore,	
  they	
  want	
  to	
  see,	
  where	
  the	
  world	
  ends.	
  Does	
  it	
  end	
  in	
  an	
  
	
  
	
   15
abyss	
  or	
  not?	
  And	
  there	
  are	
  a	
  few	
  who	
  have	
  the	
  courage	
  to	
  set	
  out.	
  […]	
  I	
  recognize	
  myself	
  in	
  some	
  way	
  
in	
  the	
  film,	
  just	
  like	
  that,	
  as	
  though	
  I	
  had	
  been	
  there	
  as	
  an	
  actor	
  too.”41
	
  One	
  can	
  interpret	
  this	
  
simultaneously	
  heroic	
  and	
  tragically	
  staged	
  sequence	
  and	
  view	
  it	
  as	
  an	
  adumbration	
  of	
  Herzog’s	
  own	
  
emigration	
  to	
  the	
  new	
  world;	
  it	
  anticipates	
  his	
  decampment.	
  
	
   Initially	
  no	
  one	
  in	
  the	
  United	
  States	
  applauded	
  Herzog’s	
  film,	
  but	
  in	
  France	
  they	
  did.	
  “Herzog	
  
consciously	
  chose	
  Paris	
  as	
  the	
  world	
  showcase	
  for	
  his	
  newest	
  film.	
  He	
  felt	
  more	
  comfortable	
  in	
  France	
  
because	
  he	
  was	
  sooner	
  understood	
  there	
  than	
  in	
  the	
  Federal	
  Republic”	
  (Schütte	
  1976).	
  As	
  a	
  matter	
  of	
  
fact	
  the	
  Frankfurter	
  Rundschau	
  reported	
  on	
  April	
  12,	
  1977	
  that	
  the	
  film	
  had	
  “in	
  seven	
  Parisian	
  cinemas	
  
in	
  the	
  first	
  two	
  weeks	
  more	
  than	
  40,000	
  viewers—more	
  than	
  any	
  other	
  German	
  film	
  in	
  past	
  years”.	
  The	
  
critics	
  and	
  the	
  public	
  in	
  Germany	
  presented	
  themselves	
  as	
  at	
  best	
  irritated,	
  and	
  many	
  were	
  positively	
  
indignant:	
  “Heart	
  of	
  Glass	
  is	
  a	
  feeble	
  amalgam	
  of	
  Achternbusch’s	
  raw,	
  anarchic	
  imagination	
  and	
  Herzog’s	
  
pseudo-­‐mystical,	
  undulating	
  visual	
  falderal.	
  Underscored	
  by	
  the	
  cosmic	
  music	
  of	
  the	
  group	
  Popol	
  Vuh,	
  
the	
  film	
  attempts	
  to	
  send	
  the	
  viewer	
  on	
  a	
  fog-­‐filled	
  journey”	
  (Limmer	
  1976:	
  143).	
  
	
   The	
  fog-­‐filled	
  journey	
  that	
  resulted	
  from	
  Achternbusch’s	
  “raw,	
  anarchic	
  imagination”	
  together	
  
with	
  Herzog’s	
  “visual	
  falderal”	
  may	
  on	
  one	
  level	
  be	
  his	
  completely	
  personal	
  rhapsodizing,	
  but	
  it	
  is	
  also	
  
connected	
  to	
  his	
  baroque	
  and	
  spiritual	
  “folklore.”	
  Herzog	
  emphasized	
  this	
  years	
  later,	
  noting	
  that	
  Heart	
  
of	
  Glass	
  deals	
  with	
  “the	
  story	
  of	
  my	
  childhood”	
  and	
  “the	
  mysterious	
  world	
  outside”	
  upon	
  which	
  the	
  seer	
  
Hias,	
  an	
  actual	
  figure	
  from	
  the	
  pages	
  of	
  Bavarian	
  history,	
  tries	
  to	
  impose	
  some	
  order,	
  albeit	
  by	
  way	
  of	
  
mystical	
  prophecies	
  (Paganelli	
  2008:	
  98).	
  Prager	
  notes	
  that,	
  “This	
  type	
  of	
  mystical	
  character	
  would	
  not	
  
likely	
  have	
  found	
  a	
  place	
  among	
  the	
  Heimat	
  films	
  of	
  the	
  1950s”	
  (2007:	
  96).	
  Even	
  if	
  Herzog	
  does	
  not	
  
condemn	
  the	
  Heimat	
  film	
  genre	
  in	
  principle,	
  his	
  interest	
  lies	
  more	
  with	
  mountain	
  films	
  from	
  the	
  prewar	
  
period	
  than	
  with	
  Heimat	
  films	
  of	
  the	
  postwar	
  period.42
	
  Both	
  are	
  typically	
  German	
  and	
  are	
  rooted	
  in	
  
similar—sometimes	
  even	
  the	
  very	
  same—places.	
  However,	
  while	
  Heimat	
  films	
  deal	
  with	
  the	
  
reconstruction	
  of	
  a	
  nation	
  in	
  a	
  picturesque	
  landscape,	
  mountain	
  films,	
  originating	
  in	
  the	
  1920s,	
  deal	
  with	
  
individual	
  heroism	
  in	
  a	
  transcendent	
  landscape.	
  One	
  film	
  from	
  the	
  period	
  during	
  World	
  War	
  II	
  
particularly	
  impressed	
  Herzog:	
  Wally	
  of	
  the	
  Vultures	
  (Die	
  Geierwally;	
  Hans	
  Steinhoff,	
  1940).43
	
  The	
  
heroine	
  of	
  the	
  title	
  is	
  a	
  young	
  woman,	
  Wally,	
  whose	
  ostensibly	
  masculine	
  talents,	
  as	
  well	
  as	
  her	
  
stubbornness	
  and	
  her	
  courage,	
  would	
  have	
  impressed	
  the	
  wife	
  of	
  Peter	
  the	
  Miller	
  from	
  Sachrang.	
  When	
  
watching	
  the	
  power	
  struggle	
  between	
  Heidemarie	
  Hatheyer	
  and	
  Eduard	
  Köck,	
  who	
  plays	
  Wally’s	
  father	
  
in	
  the	
  film,	
  one	
  would	
  almost	
  describe	
  Wally	
  of	
  the	
  Vultures	
  as	
  “ecstatic,”	
  and	
  it	
  is	
  not	
  surprising	
  that	
  
Herzog	
  likes	
  the	
  film.	
  Also	
  dominant,	
  in	
  contrast	
  to	
  those	
  Heimat	
  films	
  of	
  the	
  1950s,	
  is	
  the	
  depiction	
  of	
  
the	
  harsh	
  and	
  hardscrabble	
  life	
  in	
  the	
  country,	
  which	
  is	
  far	
  more	
  typical	
  of	
  mountain	
  films.	
  Contributing	
  
	
  
	
   16
to	
  this	
  spiritual	
  sense—to	
  the	
  film’s	
  nature-­‐mysticism—is	
  a	
  sequence	
  that	
  presumes	
  the	
  existence	
  of	
  
mountain	
  sprits	
  and	
  begins	
  with	
  a	
  depiction	
  of	
  clouds	
  that	
  the	
  time-­‐lapse	
  sequence	
  in	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass	
  
may	
  have	
  used	
  as	
  a	
  model.	
  The	
  interest	
  in	
  mysticism	
  is	
  likely	
  what	
  separates	
  Herzog	
  from	
  most	
  other	
  
German	
  filmmakers	
  of	
  his	
  generation,	
  who,	
  at	
  more	
  or	
  less	
  the	
  same	
  time,	
  were	
  producing	
  their	
  “anti-­‐
Heimat	
  films”	
  like	
  Hunting	
  Scenes	
  from	
  Bavaria	
  (Peter	
  Fleischmann,	
  1969),	
  Mathias	
  Kneissl	
  (Reinhard	
  
Hauff,	
  1970)	
  and	
  The	
  Sudden	
  Wealth	
  of	
  the	
  Poor	
  People	
  of	
  Kombach	
  (Volker	
  Schlöndorff,	
  1971).	
  
	
   The	
  aforementioned	
  essay	
  by	
  Eric	
  Rentschler	
  appeared	
  in	
  the	
  mid-­‐1980s	
  and	
  was	
  part	
  of	
  a	
  wave	
  
that	
  gained	
  steam	
  during	
  the	
  course	
  of	
  the	
  early	
  reception	
  of	
  Fitzcarraldo.	
  The	
  reproach	
  of	
  fascism	
  was	
  
being	
  leveled	
  at	
  Herzog	
  with	
  increasing	
  frequency.	
  Rentschler	
  seems	
  almost	
  personally	
  confronted	
  by	
  
Herzog’s	
  rejection	
  of	
  academic	
  discourse	
  and	
  allows	
  himself	
  a	
  somewhat	
  strong	
  reaction,	
  the	
  tenor	
  of	
  
which	
  is	
  that	
  Herzog	
  instrumentalizes	
  people	
  and	
  landscapes	
  for	
  the	
  sake	
  of	
  his	
  own	
  “steely	
  
romanticism”	
  (Rentschler	
  1986:	
  178).	
  Whoever	
  fails	
  to	
  perceive	
  this,	
  it	
  seems,	
  must	
  be	
  “overcome	
  by	
  
Herzog’s	
  ministrations”	
  (167).	
  Here	
  Rentschler	
  does	
  not	
  shy	
  away	
  from	
  comparing	
  Herzog’s	
  team	
  
meetings,	
  about	
  which	
  he	
  only	
  has	
  second-­‐hand	
  knowledge,	
  with	
  Hitler’s	
  table	
  talks	
  (Tischgespräche),	
  
speaking	
  of	
  a	
  “Gleichschaltung	
  on	
  the	
  heterogeneity	
  of	
  existence,”	
  and	
  bringing	
  Goebbels’	
  name	
  into	
  it,	
  
because	
  the	
  latter	
  said:	
  “we	
  are	
  all	
  more	
  or	
  less	
  romantics	
  of	
  a	
  new	
  German	
  mood”	
  (175).	
  As	
  Rüdiger	
  
Safranski	
  correctly	
  observes	
  in	
  his	
  book	
  about	
  Romanticism	
  (at	
  least	
  indirectly)	
  it	
  is	
  an	
  analytic	
  error	
  to	
  
assert	
  that	
  certain	
  attitudes	
  can	
  no	
  longer	
  to	
  be	
  tolerated	
  in	
  the	
  fields	
  of	
  creative	
  activity	
  and	
  thought,	
  
because	
  those	
  attitudes	
  of	
  art	
  production	
  and	
  speculative	
  philosophy	
  had	
  reached	
  into	
  the	
  practical	
  
policies	
  of	
  National	
  Socialism	
  and	
  brought	
  with	
  them	
  devastation.	
  Romanticism	
  and	
  mysticism	
  have	
  a	
  
tradition	
  that	
  extends	
  far	
  beyond	
  the	
  Nazi	
  body	
  of	
  thought	
  and	
  is	
  not	
  automatically	
  discredited	
  by	
  them.	
  
It	
  also	
  speaks	
  against	
  Rentschler’s	
  diagnosis	
  that	
  he	
  adopts	
  elements	
  of	
  Nina	
  Gladitz’s	
  argument.	
  For	
  a	
  
time	
  she	
  tried	
  to	
  promote	
  herself	
  on	
  Herzog’s	
  coattails	
  with	
  her	
  documentary	
  Land	
  of	
  Bitterness	
  and	
  
Pride	
  (1982)	
  in	
  which	
  she	
  draws	
  parallels	
  between	
  Herzog’s	
  use	
  of	
  Indian	
  actors	
  and	
  assistants	
  in	
  
Fitzcarraldo	
  and	
  Leni	
  Riefenstahl’s	
  deployment	
  of	
  interned	
  Sinti	
  and	
  Roma	
  in	
  Tiefland	
  (1944).44
	
  Gladitz’s	
  
documentary	
  is	
  rife	
  with	
  one-­‐dimensional	
  and	
  transparently	
  black	
  and	
  white	
  depictions,	
  to	
  which	
  she	
  
adds	
  not	
  a	
  shred	
  of	
  reflection	
  on	
  her	
  own	
  position.	
  Here,	
  one	
  has	
  to	
  wonder	
  who	
  has	
  really	
  adopted	
  
Nazi	
  rhetoric.	
  
	
   To	
  return	
  to	
  the	
  starting	
  point	
  of	
  my	
  reflections:	
  the	
  difficult	
  relationship	
  between	
  Herzog	
  and	
  
his	
  homeland	
  is,	
  on	
  the	
  one	
  hand,	
  indebted	
  to	
  an	
  identification	
  with	
  the	
  almost	
  separatist	
  role	
  his	
  
Bavarian	
  ancestral	
  region	
  traditionally	
  plays	
  in	
  German	
  history,	
  and	
  on	
  the	
  other	
  hand,	
  to	
  the	
  opposition	
  
between	
  the	
  protective-­‐conservative	
  and	
  the	
  anarchic	
  elements	
  that	
  are	
  ostensibly	
  inherent	
  in	
  the	
  
	
  
	
   17
Bavarian	
  nature.	
  The	
  basis	
  for	
  Herzog’s	
  capacity	
  to	
  adapt	
  well	
  to	
  an	
  environment	
  like	
  California,	
  and	
  
especially	
  to	
  Hollywood,	
  which	
  is	
  at	
  first	
  glance	
  diametrically	
  opposed	
  to	
  his	
  lifestyle,	
  may	
  be	
  rooted	
  in	
  
his	
  enthusiasm	
  for	
  both	
  the	
  pagan	
  characteristics	
  of	
  Bavarian	
  folk	
  and	
  Baroque	
  culture	
  and	
  in	
  the	
  myths	
  
of	
  the	
  mountain	
  films	
  (and,	
  consequently,	
  in	
  his	
  frontier	
  spirit).	
  Herzog’s	
  former	
  double-­‐role,	
  which	
  
earned	
  him	
  so	
  much	
  animosity	
  in	
  the	
  Federal	
  Republic	
  of	
  Germany,	
  is	
  now	
  divided	
  between	
  two	
  
countries:	
  In	
  Germany,	
  he	
  still	
  plays	
  the	
  part	
  of	
  the	
  misunderstood,	
  sensitive	
  poet;	
  while	
  in	
  the	
  United	
  
States	
  he	
  presents	
  himself	
  as	
  an	
  ultra-­‐tough	
  Germanic	
  lone	
  wolf.	
  For	
  both	
  positions	
  he	
  draws	
  from	
  the	
  
cultural	
  capital	
  of	
  his	
  contradictory	
  Bavarian	
  homeland,	
  and	
  both	
  are	
  driving	
  forces	
  in	
  his	
  films—films	
  
that	
  he	
  not	
  incorrectly	
  labels	
  Bavarian.45	
  
	
  
	
  
Notes	
  
	
  
1	
   For	
  this	
  interview	
  see	
  the	
  DVD	
  Extra	
  Jonathan	
  Demme	
  Interviews	
  Werner	
  Herzog	
  included	
  with	
  
the	
  DVD	
  Encounters	
  at	
  the	
  End	
  of	
  the	
  World	
  (Discovery	
  Communications,	
  2007).	
  
2	
   On	
  this	
  see	
  Prinz	
  (1997:	
  381–387).	
  
3	
   Apart	
  from	
  the	
  governing	
  period	
  of	
  Wilhelm	
  Hoegner,	
  member	
  of	
  the	
  Social	
  Democratic	
  Party	
  of	
  
Germany	
  (SPD)	
  from	
  1954–57,	
  the	
  CSU	
  has	
  always	
  held	
  the	
  office	
  of	
  Minister	
  President.	
  From	
  1962	
  until	
  
2008	
  the	
  government	
  oversaw	
  Bavaria	
  with	
  an	
  absolute	
  majority.	
  
4	
   See	
  “Das	
  war	
  ja	
  Stoiber	
  im	
  Bierzelt	
  in	
  Bayern”	
  (2005).	
  In	
  the	
  election	
  Stoiber	
  was	
  particularly	
  
criticizing	
  the	
  population	
  of	
  the	
  five	
  new	
  German	
  states,	
  i.e.	
  the	
  former	
  German	
  Democratic	
  Republic.	
  
5	
   Franz	
  Josef	
  Strauss,	
  Stoiber’s	
  political	
  mentor,	
  who	
  was	
  prime	
  minister	
  from	
  1978	
  to	
  1988	
  in	
  
Bavaria,	
  also	
  failed	
  to	
  win	
  the	
  national	
  election.	
  In	
  an	
  interview	
  in	
  May	
  1988	
  Herzog	
  calls	
  Strauss,	
  “the	
  
only	
  ‘Baroque’	
  politician,	
  in	
  a	
  comprehensive	
  and	
  positive	
  sense,	
  in	
  Germany	
  today”	
  (Quaresima	
  1988:	
  
88).	
  
6	
   With	
  Die	
  Zweite	
  Heimat	
  (1992)	
  Edgar	
  Reitz	
  made	
  a	
  filmic	
  memorial	
  to	
  the	
  general	
  sense	
  of	
  
elation	
  in	
  Schwabing	
  of	
  the	
  1960s.	
  In	
  1971	
  the	
  Filmverlag	
  der	
  Autoren,	
  a	
  union	
  of	
  young	
  directors,	
  was	
  
founded	
  in	
  Munich.	
  According	
  to	
  the	
  homepage	
  of	
  the	
  distributing	
  arm	
  of	
  the	
  organization,	
  Herzog	
  
worked	
  closely	
  with	
  them	
  from	
  Aguirre	
  on	
  (“Der	
  Filmverlag”).	
  Herzog	
  himself	
  describes	
  their	
  
relationship	
  as	
  less	
  close:	
  “I	
  was	
  invited	
  to	
  be	
  a	
  part	
  of	
  the	
  organization,	
  but	
  I	
  said	
  no.	
  […]	
  Later	
  on	
  they	
  
did	
  take	
  over	
  some	
  of	
  my	
  early	
  films	
  and	
  distributed	
  them”	
  (Cronin	
  2002:	
  35).	
  On	
  the	
  rise	
  and	
  fall	
  of	
  this	
  
	
  
	
   18
unusual	
  authorial	
  collective,	
  see	
  the	
  documentary	
  film	
  Reverse	
  Angle:	
  Rebellion	
  of	
  the	
  Filmmakers	
  
(Dominik	
  Wessely,	
  2008).	
  
7	
   See	
  the	
  commentary	
  on	
  the	
  German	
  language	
  DVD	
  of	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass	
  (Kinowelt	
  Home	
  
Entertainment	
  Inc.	
  2004,	
  at	
  52:16).	
  
8	
   See	
  the	
  commentary	
  on	
  the	
  German	
  language	
  DVD	
  of	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass	
  (at	
  38:45).	
  Beyond	
  
Achternbusch	
  and	
  Valentin	
  one	
  could	
  also	
  cite	
  a	
  number	
  of	
  other	
  figures	
  such	
  as	
  the	
  authors	
  Ludwig	
  
Thoma	
  (1867–1921)	
  and	
  Oskar	
  Maria	
  Graf	
  (1894–1967);	
  the	
  humorists	
  Weiß	
  Ferdl	
  (1883–1949)	
  and	
  
Gerhard	
  Polt,	
  who	
  was,	
  like	
  Herzog,	
  born	
  in	
  Munich	
  in	
  1942;	
  the	
  musicians	
  Hans,	
  Christoph,	
  and	
  Michael	
  
Well,	
  who	
  founded	
  the	
  Biermösl	
  Blosn,	
  their	
  band	
  for	
  “new	
  folk	
  music”	
  in	
  1976,	
  or	
  Hans	
  Söllner	
  (born	
  
1955),	
  who	
  is	
  known	
  above	
  all	
  for	
  his	
  “Bavarian	
  Reggae”	
  and	
  for	
  speaking	
  out	
  in	
  favor	
  of	
  the	
  legalization	
  
of	
  marijuana.	
  
9	
   Herzog	
  makes	
  a	
  similar	
  comment,	
  comparing	
  his	
  work	
  to	
  that	
  of	
  a	
  physicist,	
  in	
  Cronin	
  (2002:	
  19).	
  
10	
   Almost	
  30	
  years	
  later	
  in	
  conversation	
  with	
  Paul	
  Cronin,	
  Herzog	
  repeated	
  the	
  statement	
  he	
  made	
  
back	
  then:	
  “When	
  you	
  look	
  at	
  my	
  films	
  you	
  see	
  there	
  is	
  absolutely	
  nothing	
  eccentric	
  about	
  them.	
  […]	
  In	
  
comparison	
  to	
  me,	
  all	
  the	
  rest	
  are	
  eccentric”	
  (Cronin	
  2002:	
  68).	
  
11	
   Ten	
  years	
  later	
  it	
  remained	
  that	
  way.	
  Herzog	
  told	
  an	
  audience:	
  “This	
  Peter	
  Alexander,	
  with	
  his	
  
perky	
  countenance,	
  denies	
  the	
  existence	
  of	
  the	
  first	
  and	
  second	
  world	
  wars.	
  This	
  man	
  stands	
  for	
  a	
  world	
  
in	
  which	
  the	
  historical	
  disasters	
  of	
  this	
  century	
  are	
  declared	
  null	
  and	
  void.	
  [...]	
  All	
  my	
  wrath	
  and	
  all	
  my	
  
conceptions	
  of	
  what	
  constitutes	
  an	
  enemy,	
  I	
  direct	
  toward	
  Peter	
  Alexander	
  (laughter)”	
  (Rost	
  1986:	
  61–
62).	
  
12	
   According	
  to	
  his	
  friend	
  Gerhard	
  Bronner,	
  the	
  Vienna	
  composer	
  and	
  cabaretist,	
  Alexander	
  sold	
  
himself	
  short	
  his	
  whole	
  life,	
  and	
  sacrificed	
  a	
  potentially	
  challenging	
  career	
  for	
  fantastic	
  sums	
  of	
  money,	
  
which	
  overwhelmed	
  him.	
  Since	
  1996	
  he	
  had	
  been	
  completely	
  withdrawn	
  and,	
  like	
  the	
  late	
  Marlene	
  
Dietrich,	
  would	
  not	
  even	
  let	
  himself	
  be	
  photographed.	
  Friends	
  spoke	
  of	
  him	
  as	
  though	
  he	
  were	
  dead.	
  
See	
  The	
  Man	
  Who	
  Was	
  Peter	
  Alexander	
  (Birgit	
  Kienzle,	
  2006).	
  Alexander	
  actually	
  died	
  on	
  February	
  12,	
  
2011.	
  
13	
   Till	
  notes,	
  “[Ludwig	
  II]	
  spoke	
  and	
  thought	
  in	
  Wagnerian	
  phrases	
  and	
  thus	
  became	
  the	
  pioneer	
  of	
  
a	
  fashion	
  that	
  practically	
  the	
  entire	
  educated	
  class	
  of	
  Europe	
  had	
  embraced	
  at	
  the	
  turn	
  of	
  the	
  century”	
  
(2010:	
  13).	
  In	
  1987	
  Herzog	
  staged	
  Wagner’s	
  opera	
  Lohengrin	
  in	
  Bayreuth	
  for	
  the	
  first	
  time.	
  In	
  Herzog’s	
  
films	
  Wagner	
  (his	
  Parsifal)	
  appears	
  as	
  early	
  as	
  1977,	
  in	
  La	
  Soufrière.	
  
	
  
	
   19
14	
   “Richard	
  Wagner	
  and	
  the	
  buildings,	
  in	
  either	
  order,	
  are	
  the	
  two	
  great	
  cornerstones	
  of	
  Ludwig’s	
  
life.	
  Next	
  to	
  those,	
  everything	
  else—political	
  life,	
  the	
  Bavarian	
  people,	
  his	
  family	
  life—are	
  mere	
  
episodes”	
  (Till	
  2010:	
  13).	
  
15	
   In	
  a	
  different	
  interview	
  Herzog	
  points	
  to	
  Fitzcarraldo	
  as,	
  for	
  this	
  reason,	
  the	
  one	
  among	
  his	
  films	
  
in	
  which	
  the	
  presence	
  of	
  Bavaria	
  comes	
  out	
  most	
  strongly	
  (Quaresima	
  1988:	
  87).	
  
16	
   Pope	
  Benedict	
  XVI,	
  alias	
  Joseph	
  Ratzinger	
  (born	
  in	
  1927)	
  comes	
  from	
  upper	
  Bavaria,	
  the	
  rural	
  
region	
  in	
  the	
  south	
  in	
  which	
  Werner	
  Herzog	
  grew	
  up.	
  
17	
   On	
  Herzog’s	
  Catholicism,	
  see	
  his	
  comment	
  to	
  Cronin:	
  “I	
  had	
  a	
  dramatic	
  religious	
  phase	
  at	
  the	
  
age	
  of	
  fourteen	
  and	
  converted	
  to	
  Catholicism.	
  Even	
  though	
  I	
  am	
  not	
  a	
  member	
  of	
  the	
  Catholic	
  church	
  
any	
  longer,	
  to	
  this	
  day	
  there	
  seems	
  to	
  be	
  something	
  of	
  a	
  distant	
  religious	
  echo	
  in	
  some	
  of	
  my	
  works”	
  
(2002:	
  10).	
  
18	
   For	
  this	
  reason	
  Herzog	
  speaks	
  of	
  the	
  “New	
  Bavarian	
  Film”	
  (Quaresima	
  1988:	
  87).	
  
19	
   Fassbinder	
  recruited	
  some	
  of	
  his	
  closest	
  film	
  collaborators	
  from	
  his	
  “Anti-­‐Theater,”	
  which	
  he	
  
founded	
  in	
  1968.	
  
20	
   On	
  the	
  commentary	
  to	
  the	
  German	
  DVD	
  of	
  Scream	
  of	
  Stone	
  (Kinowelt	
  Home	
  Entertainment	
  Inc,	
  
2005,	
  at	
  55:16)	
  Herzog	
  remarks	
  on	
  the	
  first	
  and	
  only	
  nude	
  scene	
  of	
  his	
  career.	
  Herzog	
  here	
  means	
  nude	
  
scenes	
  in	
  the	
  sense	
  of	
  classic	
  love	
  scenes.	
  Sonja	
  Skiba	
  as	
  Ludmilla	
  appears	
  naked	
  in	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass,	
  and	
  
many	
  actresses	
  and	
  extras	
  appear	
  partly	
  nude	
  in	
  his	
  “colonial”	
  films	
  such	
  as	
  Cobra	
  Verde	
  (1987).	
  
21	
   On	
  “inner	
  worlds,”	
  see	
  Elsaesser	
  (1996:	
  22).	
  Elsaesser	
  adds:	
  “[It]	
  is	
  not	
  the	
  Germany	
  of	
  Rhine	
  
castles	
  […]	
  and	
  Bavarian	
  mountains	
  (Heart	
  of	
  Glass),	
  of	
  romantic	
  Caspar	
  David	
  Friedrich	
  Landscapes	
  
(Kaspar	
  Hauser)	
  or	
  the	
  Black	
  Forest	
  (Woyzeck)	
  that	
  we	
  look	
  for	
  in	
  Fassbinder.	
  […]	
  Karsten	
  Witte	
  once	
  
rightly	
  remarked	
  that	
  in	
  Fassbinder	
  ‘you	
  find	
  everything	
  of	
  Germany	
  that	
  is	
  not	
  the	
  Lorelei	
  and	
  
Neuschwanstein’	
  […]”	
  (1996:	
  22).	
  Elsaesser	
  is	
  referring	
  to	
  Witte’s	
  essay	
  on	
  Fassbinder	
  (1985:	
  159).	
  
22	
   Herzog	
  explains:	
  “at	
  the	
  age	
  of	
  eleven	
  I	
  had	
  to	
  learn	
  Hochdeutsch	
  which	
  was	
  a	
  painful	
  
experience	
  for	
  me”	
  (Cronin	
  2002:	
  23).	
  He	
  adds:	
  “[German]	
  is	
  of	
  course	
  my	
  culture,	
  my	
  language,	
  
although	
  in	
  truth	
  my	
  first	
  language	
  is	
  Bavarian.	
  What	
  I	
  miss	
  most	
  in	
  Los	
  Angeles	
  is	
  the	
  Bavarian	
  dialect.	
  
[…]	
  I	
  don’t	
  miss	
  Germany,	
  but	
  I	
  miss	
  the	
  Bavarian	
  dialect”	
  (Herzog	
  2008:	
  63).	
  
23	
   Herzog	
  adds:	
  “It	
  was	
  anarchy	
  in	
  the	
  best	
  sense	
  of	
  the	
  word.	
  There	
  were	
  no	
  ruling	
  fathers	
  around	
  
and	
  no	
  rules	
  to	
  follow.	
  We	
  had	
  to	
  invent	
  everything	
  from	
  scratch”	
  (Cronin	
  2002:	
  5).	
  
24	
   The	
  premiere	
  was	
  on	
  December	
  26,	
  1978	
  on	
  the	
  station	
  ARD.	
  Since	
  then	
  there	
  have	
  been	
  many	
  
airings,	
  most	
  recently	
  in	
  January	
  2007.	
  Owing	
  to	
  the	
  continuing	
  success	
  of	
  the	
  TV	
  movie	
  there	
  is	
  now	
  
even	
  a	
  Müllner-­‐Peter-­‐Museum	
  in	
  Sachrang,	
  which	
  opened	
  its	
  doors	
  in	
  2001.	
  
	
  
	
   20
25	
   See	
  on	
  this	
  point	
  Herzog	
  (2008:	
  71–72).	
  
26	
   On	
  the	
  reproach	
  that	
  he	
  has	
  mistreated	
  handicapped	
  persons,	
  see,	
  for	
  example,	
  Koch	
  (1986);	
  on	
  
the	
  claim	
  that	
  he	
  mistreated	
  indigenous	
  persons,	
  see	
  in	
  particular	
  the	
  filmic	
  accusation	
  Land	
  of	
  
Bitterness	
  and	
  Pride	
  (Nina	
  Gladitz,	
  1982);	
  the	
  suggestion	
  that	
  Herzog	
  “aestheticizes”	
  horror	
  has	
  been	
  
made	
  largely	
  with	
  reference	
  to	
  Lessons	
  of	
  Darkness	
  (1992).	
  For	
  his	
  thoughts	
  on	
  this,	
  see	
  Sponsel	
  and	
  
Sebenig	
  (2006:	
  58)	
  as	
  well	
  as	
  Cronin	
  (2002:	
  245);	
  on	
  the	
  accusation	
  of	
  “left-­‐fascism,”	
  see	
  Wahl	
  (2011).	
  
27	
   On	
  the	
  New	
  York	
  Film	
  Festival,	
  see	
  Walsh	
  (1979:	
  34).	
  Tom	
  Luddy	
  directed	
  the	
  Pacific	
  Film	
  
Archive	
  from	
  1975–1980.	
  See	
  Herzog	
  (1979).	
  
28	
   On	
  the	
  “new	
  documentary”	
  see	
  Williams	
  (1993).	
  
29	
   When	
  he	
  appears	
  in	
  Wim	
  Wenders’s	
  Tokyo-­‐ga	
  (1985),	
  Herzog	
  speaks	
  about	
  his	
  readiness	
  to	
  seek	
  
out	
  the	
  most	
  remote	
  places	
  for	
  new	
  images	
  for	
  our	
  civilization.	
  He	
  continually	
  emphasizes	
  the	
  necessity	
  
of	
  this	
  undertaking.	
  
30	
   Instead	
  Herzog	
  filmed	
  Scream	
  of	
  Stone	
  (1991)	
  on	
  Cerro	
  Torre	
  in	
  South	
  America,	
  which	
  is	
  based	
  
on	
  an	
  original	
  idea	
  by	
  Messner.	
  
31	
   See	
  Barnouw	
  (1993:	
  100).	
  For	
  a	
  definition	
  of	
  the	
  mountain	
  film	
  as	
  its	
  own	
  genre,	
  see	
  Rapp:	
  
“There	
  are	
  and	
  have	
  been	
  many	
  feature	
  films	
  in	
  which	
  high	
  mountains	
  serve	
  as	
  a	
  motif	
  or	
  setting,	
  but	
  
the	
  authenticity	
  of	
  the	
  alpine	
  scenery	
  was	
  only	
  given	
  such	
  prominent	
  importance	
  in	
  the	
  German	
  
mountain	
  film.	
  Distinct	
  from	
  the	
  alpine	
  films	
  of	
  other	
  countries,	
  it	
  was	
  only	
  the	
  German	
  mountain	
  film	
  
that	
  succeeded	
  in	
  developing	
  into	
  its	
  own	
  film	
  genre	
  and	
  being	
  successfully	
  distributed	
  to	
  cinemas.	
  
Because	
  most	
  of	
  the	
  films	
  were	
  made	
  in	
  the	
  Swiss	
  and	
  Austrian	
  Alps,	
  the	
  label	
  ‘German’	
  had	
  to	
  be	
  added	
  
to	
  the	
  productions.	
  They	
  were	
  regularly	
  produced	
  by	
  German	
  companies	
  and	
  were	
  initially	
  intended	
  
only	
  for	
  the	
  German	
  market”	
  (1997:	
  7).	
  
32	
   On	
  his	
  readiness	
  to	
  take	
  risks,	
  particularly	
  during	
  the	
  filming	
  of	
  La	
  Soufrière,	
  see	
  Cronin	
  (2002:	
  
19,	
  150).	
  On	
  Reinhold	
  Messner,	
  see	
  Herzog	
  (2008:	
  76–77).	
  
33	
   See	
  the	
  featurette	
  entitled	
  The	
  Making	
  of	
  a	
  True	
  Story	
  on	
  the	
  DVD	
  of	
  Rescue	
  Dawn	
  (Metro-­‐
Goldwyn-­‐Mayer-­‐Studios	
  Inc.	
  2007).	
  The	
  last	
  of	
  the	
  featurette’s	
  four	
  chapters	
  is	
  called	
  “What	
  Would	
  
Dieter	
  Do?”	
  
34	
   For	
  more	
  on	
  the	
  reception	
  see	
  Wahl	
  (2011).	
  
35	
   This	
  phrase,	
  “the	
  substitute	
  for	
  dreams”	
  (Der	
  Ersatz	
  für	
  die	
  Träume),	
  refers	
  to	
  Hugo	
  von	
  
Hofmannsthal	
  (1979	
  [original	
  1921]).	
  
36	
   On	
  this	
  point,	
  see	
  Göttler	
  (2007).	
  Herzog	
  asserts:	
  “In	
  no	
  case	
  do	
  I	
  want	
  to	
  live	
  in	
  a	
  sleepy	
  place	
  
like	
  Florence	
  or	
  Venice.	
  These	
  cities	
  are	
  over.	
  They	
  have	
  wonderfully	
  beautiful	
  surfaces	
  and	
  are	
  
	
  
	
   21
museums	
  at	
  actual	
  size.	
  Los	
  Angeles	
  has	
  absolutely	
  no	
  surface.	
  It	
  is	
  just	
  ugly	
  and	
  lacking	
  in	
  style.	
  But	
  
there’s	
  a	
  lot	
  beneath	
  the	
  surface	
  that	
  hasn’t	
  yet	
  been	
  seen.”	
  
37	
   The	
  time-­‐lapse	
  images	
  were	
  shot	
  at	
  the	
  peak	
  of	
  Lusen	
  Mountain	
  in	
  the	
  Bavarian	
  Forest	
  and	
  were	
  
captured	
  over	
  a	
  period	
  of	
  ten	
  or	
  twelve	
  days	
  through	
  combining	
  a	
  number	
  of	
  individual	
  images.	
  See	
  the	
  
commentary	
  on	
  the	
  German	
  DVD	
  of	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass	
  (at	
  2:23).	
  Distortions	
  effected	
  by,	
  for	
  example,	
  the	
  
experimental	
  filmmaker	
  Klaus	
  Wyborny’s	
  use	
  of	
  wide	
  angle	
  and	
  telephoto	
  lenses	
  simultaneously,	
  were	
  
implemented	
  earlier	
  in	
  Herzog’s	
  The	
  Enigma	
  of	
  Kaspar	
  Hauser	
  (1974).	
  
38	
   See	
  the	
  commentary	
  on	
  the	
  German	
  DVD	
  of	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass	
  at	
  6:38.	
  
39	
   On	
  the	
  comparison,	
  see	
  Bellour	
  (2009:	
  400–410).	
  Von	
  Trier’s	
  trilogy	
  consists	
  of	
  The	
  Element	
  of	
  
Crime	
  (1984),	
  Epidemic	
  (1987)	
  and	
  Europa	
  (1991).	
  
40	
   The	
  distortions	
  caused	
  by	
  the	
  synthesizer	
  stand	
  for	
  the	
  unraveling	
  of	
  time.	
  They	
  reduce	
  the	
  
original	
  images	
  more	
  and	
  more	
  to	
  ghostly	
  outlines,	
  and	
  the	
  reduction	
  is	
  intended	
  as	
  the	
  equivalent	
  of	
  
human	
  memory.	
  See	
  Lupton	
  (2005:	
  153).	
  
41	
   See	
  the	
  commentary	
  on	
  the	
  German	
  DVD	
  of	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass	
  at	
  1:05:52.	
  With	
  these	
  words	
  
Herzog—over	
  a	
  decade	
  after	
  his	
  arrival	
  on	
  the	
  Californian	
  coast—breaks	
  off	
  his	
  commentary,	
  even	
  
though	
  the	
  closing	
  sequence	
  to	
  which	
  he	
  refers	
  begins	
  20	
  minutes	
  further	
  into	
  the	
  film.	
  
42	
   See	
  Herzog	
  in	
  Borski:	
  “I	
  have	
  nothing	
  against	
  films	
  such	
  as	
  Green	
  is	
  the	
  Heath	
  (Hans	
  Deppe,	
  
1951);	
  a	
  public	
  need	
  for	
  sentimentality	
  is	
  satisfied	
  in	
  them,	
  a	
  need	
  that	
  is	
  calculable,	
  similar	
  to	
  the	
  need	
  
for	
  toilet	
  paper	
  and	
  for	
  coffins”	
  (1973:	
  6).	
  
43	
   See	
  the	
  commentary	
  on	
  the	
  German	
  DVD	
  of	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass	
  at	
  16:22.	
  Despite	
  Steinhoff’s	
  
prominent	
  role	
  in	
  the	
  Nazi	
  cinema,	
  this	
  film	
  is	
  primarily	
  a	
  successful	
  mountain	
  film	
  rather	
  than	
  a	
  fascist	
  
media	
  product.	
  It	
  is	
  based	
  on	
  Wilhelmine	
  von	
  Hillern’s	
  novel	
  Geier-­‐Wally.	
  Eine	
  Geschichte	
  aus	
  den	
  
Tyroler	
  Alpen	
  (1875),	
  which	
  was	
  not	
  only	
  adapted	
  for	
  the	
  theater	
  and	
  the	
  opera,	
  but	
  also	
  many	
  times	
  for	
  
film	
  and	
  TV.	
  These	
  adaptations	
  included:	
  Die	
  Geier-­‐Wally	
  (E.	
  A.	
  Dupont,	
  1921),	
  Die	
  Geierwally	
  (František	
  
Cáp,	
  1956),	
  Die	
  Geierwally	
  (Walter	
  Bockmayer,	
  1987)	
  and	
  Die	
  Geierwally	
  (Peter	
  Sämann,	
  2005).	
  
44	
   For	
  a	
  balanced	
  account	
  of	
  the	
  affair	
  surrounding	
  Fitzcarraldo	
  see	
  Carré	
  (2007:	
  82–87).	
  
45	
   On	
  this,	
  see	
  Beier.	
  Herzog	
  says,	
  not	
  for	
  the	
  first	
  time:	
  “I	
  have	
  never	
  left	
  my	
  culture.	
  Wherever	
  I	
  
go,	
  I	
  make	
  Bavarian	
  films”	
  (2010:	
  135).	
  
	
  
	
  
Works	
  Cited	
  
	
  
	
  
	
   22
Baer,	
  Harry:	
  Schlafen	
  kann	
  ich,	
  wenn	
  ich	
  tot	
  bin.	
  Das	
  atemlose	
  Leben	
  des	
  Rainer	
  Werner	
  Fassbinder	
  
(Cologne:	
  Kiepenheuer	
  &	
  Witsch,	
  1982).	
  
Barnouw,	
  Erik:	
  Documentary:	
  A	
  History	
  of	
  the	
  Non-­‐Fiction	
  Film	
  (New	
  York:	
  Oxford	
  University	
  Press	
  1993).	
  
Beier,	
  Lars-­‐Olav:	
  “In	
  der	
  Risikozone,”	
  Der	
  Spiegel	
  6,	
  February	
  8,	
  2010:	
  132–135.	
  
Bellour,	
  Raymond:	
  Le	
  Corps	
  du	
  cinéma.	
  Hypnoses,	
  émotions,	
  animalités	
  (Paris:	
  P.O.L	
  éditeur,	
  2009).	
  
Binotto,	
  Thomas,	
  ed.:	
  Das	
  fliegende	
  Auge.	
  Michael	
  Ballhaus,	
  Director	
  of	
  Photography,	
  im	
  Gespräch	
  mit	
  
Tom	
  Tykwer	
  (Berlin:	
  Berlin	
  Verlag,	
  2002).	
  
Borski,	
  Arnim:	
  “Exzentriker—das	
  sind	
  die	
  anderen,”	
  Der	
  Abend,	
  July	
  6,	
  1973:	
  6.	
  
Buruma,	
  Ian:	
  “Herzog	
  and	
  His	
  Heroes,”	
  New	
  York	
  Review	
  of	
  Books,	
  July	
  19,	
  2007:	
  24–26.	
  
Carré,	
  Valérie:	
  La	
  quête	
  anthropologique	
  de	
  Werner	
  Herzog. Documentaires	
  et	
  fictions	
  en	
  regard	
  
(Strasbourg:	
  Presses	
  Universitaires	
  de	
  Strasbourg,	
  2007).	
  
Cronin,	
  Paul,	
  ed.:	
  Herzog	
  on	
  Herzog	
  (London:	
  Faber	
  &	
  Faber,	
  2002).	
  
“Das	
  war	
  ja	
  Stoiber	
  im	
  Bierzelt	
  in	
  Bayern,”	
  faz.net	
  (August	
  11,	
  2005),	
  
www.faz.net/s/RubA24ECD630CAE40E483841DB7D16F4211/Doc~EBD5EA00F29A2493CB1FABE8C3F09
3906~ATpl~Ecommon~Scontent.html.	
  
“Der	
  Filmverlag	
  der	
  Autoren,”	
  Online	
  version	
  of	
  booklet	
  accompanying	
  the	
  DVD	
  collection	
  Filmverlag	
  der	
  
Autoren	
  Edition	
  (2009),	
  www.filmverlagderautoren.de/material/FDA_Hauptteil.pdf.	
  
Ebert,	
  Roger:	
  “A	
  Letter	
  to	
  Werner	
  Herzog:	
  In	
  Praise	
  of	
  Rapturous	
  Truth,”	
  rogerebert.com	
  (November	
  17,	
  
2007),	
  http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20071117/PEOPLE/71117002.	
  
Elsaesser,	
  Thomas:	
  Fassbinder’s	
  Germany:	
  History,	
  Identity,	
  Subject	
  (Amsterdam:	
  Amsterdam	
  University	
  
Press,	
  1996).	
  
Göttler,	
  Fritz:	
  “Die	
  Sesshaftigkeit	
  ist	
  unser	
  großes	
  Unglück,”	
  Interview	
  with	
  Werner	
  Herzog,	
  Süddeutsche	
  
Zeitung,	
  June	
  24,	
  2007.	
  
Herzog,	
  Werner:	
  “Interview	
  with	
  Kraft	
  Wetzel,”	
  Herzog/Kluge/Straub,	
  ed.	
  Peter	
  W.	
  Jansen	
  and	
  Wolfram	
  
Schütte	
  (Munich:	
  Hanser,	
  1976).	
  
Herzog,	
  Werner:	
  Unpublished	
  interview	
  with	
  Herzog	
  by	
  Jörg	
  Bundschuh	
  and	
  Christian	
  Bauer.	
  LzK	
  20/43.	
  
File:	
  “Werner	
  Herzog:	
  Texte,	
  Interviews,”	
  Herzog	
  Collection,	
  Deutsche	
  Kinemathek	
  (Berlin),	
  1979.	
  
Herzog,	
  Werner:	
  Manuel	
  de	
  Survie—Entretien	
  avec	
  Hervé	
  Aubron	
  et	
  Emmanuel	
  Burdeau	
  (Nantes:	
  
Capricci	
  Editions,	
  2008).	
  
Hortmeyer,	
  Gerd:	
  “Darsteller	
  gesucht,	
  die	
  sich	
  hypnotisieren	
  lassen,”	
  Die	
  Zeit,	
  November	
  26,	
  1976:	
  46–
50.	
  
	
  
	
   23
Koch,	
  Gertrud:	
  “Blindness	
  as	
  Insight:	
  Visions	
  of	
  the	
  Unseen	
  in	
  Land	
  of	
  Silence	
  and	
  Darkness,”	
  The	
  Films	
  of	
  
Werner	
  Herzog:	
  Between	
  Mirage	
  and	
  History,	
  ed.	
  Timothy	
  Corrigan	
  (New	
  York:	
  Methuen,	
  1986),	
  pp.	
  73–
86.	
  
Limmer,	
  Wolfgang:	
  “Teutonischer	
  Guru,”	
  Der	
  Spiegel	
  52,	
  December	
  20,	
  1976:	
  143.	
  
Lupton,	
  Catherine:	
  Chris	
  Marker:	
  Memories	
  of	
  the	
  Future	
  (London:	
  Reaktion	
  Books	
  2005).	
  
McRoy,	
  Jay	
  and	
  Crucianelli,	
  Guy:	
  “‘I	
  Panic	
  the	
  World’:	
  Benevolent	
  Exploitation	
  in	
  Tod	
  Browning’s	
  Freaks	
  
and	
  Harmony	
  Korine’s	
  Gummo,”	
  Journal	
  of	
  Popular	
  Culture	
  42.2	
  (2009):	
  257–272.	
  
Paganelli,	
  Grazia:	
  Segni	
  di	
  vita.	
  Werner	
  Herzog	
  e	
  il	
  cinema.	
  (Milano:	
  Il	
  Castoro	
  2008).	
  
Prager,	
  Brad:	
  The	
  Cinema	
  of	
  Werner	
  Herzog:	
  Aesthetic	
  Ecstasy	
  and	
  Truth	
  (London:	
  Wallflower	
  Press,	
  
2007).	
  
Prinz,	
  Friedrich:	
  Die	
  Geschichte	
  Bayerns	
  (Munich:	
  Piper,	
  1997).	
  
Quaresima,	
  Leonardo:	
  “Hanna	
  e	
  i	
  giganti	
  di	
  ghiaccio.	
  Conversazione	
  con	
  Werner	
  Herzog,”	
  in	
  Il	
  villaggio	
  
negato.	
  La	
  Baviera	
  e	
  il	
  cinema	
  tedesco	
  degli	
  anni	
  ottanta,	
  eds.	
  Annamaria	
  Percavassi,	
  Leonardo	
  
Quaresima	
  and	
  Elfi	
  Reiter	
  (Florence:	
  La	
  Casa	
  Usher,	
  1988),	
  pp.	
  87–91.	
  
Rapp,	
  Christian:	
  Höhenrausch.	
  Der	
  deutsche	
  Bergfilm	
  (Wien:	
  Sonderzahl,	
  1997).	
  
Rentschler,	
  Eric:	
  “The	
  Politics	
  of	
  Vision:	
  Herzog’s	
  Heart	
  of	
  Glass,”	
  The	
  Films	
  of	
  Werner	
  Herzog:	
  Between	
  
Mirage	
  and	
  History,	
  ed.	
  Timothy	
  Corrigan	
  (New	
  York:	
  Methuen,	
  1986),	
  pp.	
  159–182.	
  
Rost,	
  Andreas,	
  ed.:	
  Werner	
  Herzog	
  in	
  Bamberg.	
  Protokoll	
  einer	
  Diskussion—14./15.	
  Dez.	
  1985.	
  (Bamberg:	
  
Selbstverlag,	
  1986).	
  
Schütte,	
  Wolfram:	
  “Titanisches	
  Aufbegehren	
  wider	
  den	
  Realismus.	
  Werner	
  Herzog	
  Film	
  Herz	
  aus	
  Glas,”	
  
Frankfurter	
  Rundschau,	
  November	
  16,	
  1976.	
  
Sponsel,	
  Daniel	
  and	
  Jan	
  Sebenig:	
  “Interview:	
  Werner	
  Herzog,”	
  Revolver:	
  Kino	
  muss	
  gefährlich	
  sein,	
  ed.	
  
Marcus	
  Seibert	
  (Frankfurt	
  am	
  Main:	
  Verlag	
  der	
  Autoren,	
  2006),	
  pp.	
  49–61.	
  Originally	
  in	
  Revolver	
  2	
  
(1998).	
  
Till,	
  Wolfgang:	
  Ludwig	
  II.	
  König	
  von	
  Bayern.	
  Mythos	
  und	
  Wahrheit	
  (Wien:	
  Christian	
  Brandstätter	
  Verlag	
  
2010).	
  
von	
  Hofmannsthal,	
  Hugo:	
  “Der	
  Ersatz	
  für	
  die	
  Träume,”	
  Reden	
  und	
  Aufsätze	
  II	
  1914–1924,	
  ed.	
  Herbert	
  
Steiner	
  (Frankfurt	
  am	
  Main:	
  Fischer,	
  1979	
  [original	
  1921]),	
  pp.	
  141–145.	
  
Wahl,	
  Chris:	
  “‘Ein	
  Erlebnis,	
  das	
  ich	
  nicht	
  missen	
  will’—Die	
  Rezeption	
  von	
  Werner	
  Herzog	
  in	
  
Deutschland,”	
  Lektionen	
  in	
  Herzog.	
  Neues	
  über	
  Deutschlands	
  verlorenen	
  Filmautor	
  Werner	
  Herzog	
  und	
  
sein	
  Werk,	
  ed.	
  Chris	
  Wahl	
  (München:	
  edition	
  text	
  +	
  kritik	
  2011),	
  pp.	
  15–82.	
  
	
  
	
   24
Walsh,	
  Gene,	
  ed.:	
  “Images	
  at	
  the	
  Horizon”:	
  A	
  Workshop	
  with	
  Werner	
  Herzog	
  Conducted	
  with	
  Roger	
  Ebert	
  
(Chicago:	
  Facets	
  Multimedia,	
  1979).	
  
Williams,	
  Linda:	
  “Mirrors	
  without	
  Memories.	
  Truth,	
  History,	
  and	
  the	
  New	
  Documentary,”	
  Film	
  Quarterly	
  
46.3	
  (1993):	
  9–21.	
  
“‘Wir	
  sind	
  nicht	
  mehr	
  der	
  Jungfilm.’	
  Spiegel-­‐Interview	
  mit	
  den	
  Regisseuren	
  Herzog,	
  Brandner,	
  Bohm,	
  
Hauff,”	
  Der	
  Spiegel	
  25,	
  June	
  18,	
  1979:	
  181,	
  183.	
  
Witte,	
  Karsten:	
  “Hölle	
  &	
  Söhne,”	
  Im	
  Kino	
  (Frankfurt	
  am	
  Main:	
  Fischer,	
  1985),	
  pp.	
  159–161.	
  
	
  
	
  
Films	
  Cited	
  
	
  
Blank,	
  Les:	
  Werner	
  Herzog	
  Eats	
  His	
  Shoe	
  (1980)	
  
Browning,	
  Tod:	
  Freaks	
  (1932)	
  
Dietrich,	
  Wolf:	
  Sachrang:	
  A	
  Chronicle	
  from	
  the	
  Mountains	
  (1978)	
  
Fanck,	
  Arnold	
  and	
  Pabst,	
  Georg	
  Wilhelm:	
  The	
  White	
  Hell	
  of	
  Piz	
  Palü	
  (1929)	
  
Fassbinder,	
  Rainer	
  Werner,	
  et	
  al.:	
  Germany	
  in	
  Autumn	
  (1978)	
  
Fleischmann,	
  Peter:	
  Autumn	
  of	
  the	
  Dead-­‐beats	
  (Herbst	
  der	
  Gammler,	
  1967)	
  
Fleischmann,	
  Peter:	
  Hunting	
  Scenes	
  from	
  Bavaria	
  (1969)	
  
Gladitz,	
  Nina:	
  Land	
  of	
  Bitterness	
  and	
  Pride	
  (1982)	
  
Hansen,	
  Rolf:	
  Föhn	
  (1950)	
  
Hauff,	
  Reinhard:	
  Mathias	
  Kneissl	
  (1970)	
  
Jacobs,	
  Werner:	
  And	
  Get	
  This	
  One	
  to	
  Bed	
  by	
  Eight	
  (…	
  und	
  sowas	
  muss	
  um	
  acht	
  ins	
  Bett,	
  1965).	
  
Kienzle,	
  Birgit:	
  The	
  Man	
  who	
  was	
  Peter	
  Alexander	
  (2006)	
  
Korine,	
  Harmony:	
  Gummo	
  (1997)	
  
Korine,	
  Harmony:	
  Julien	
  Donkey-­‐Boy	
  (1999)	
  
Lang,	
  Fritz:	
  Dr.	
  Mabuse	
  the	
  Gambler	
  (1922)	
  
Marker,	
  Chris:	
  Sans	
  Soleil	
  (1983)	
  
Morris,	
  Errol:	
  Gates	
  of	
  Heaven	
  (1978)	
  
Reitz,	
  Edgar:	
  Die	
  Zweite	
  Heimat	
  (1992)	
  
Riefenstahl,	
  Leni:	
  Tiefland	
  (1944)	
  
Schlöndorff,	
  Volker:	
  The	
  Sudden	
  Wealth	
  of	
  the	
  Poor	
  People	
  of	
  Kombach	
  (1971)	
  
Steinhoff,	
  Hans:	
  Wally	
  of	
  the	
  Vultures	
  (Die	
  Geierwally,	
  1940)	
  
	
  
	
   25
Wenders,	
  Wim:	
  Tokyo-­‐ga	
  (1985)	
  
Wessely,	
  Dominik:	
  Reverse	
  Angle:	
  Rebellion	
  of	
  the	
  Filmmakers	
  (2008)	
  
Von	
  Trier,	
  Lars:	
  The	
  Element	
  of	
  Crime	
  (1984)	
  
Von	
  Trier,	
  Lars:	
  Epidemic	
  (1987)	
  
Von	
  Trier,	
  Lars:	
  Europa	
  (1991)	
  
Zinnemann,	
  Fred:	
  Five	
  Days	
  One	
  Summer	
  (1982)	
  
Zinnemann,	
  Fred:	
  High	
  Noon	
  (1952)