Fitzcarraldo vs. the Devil

Losing the Battle
by M.A. Fedeli



In mainstream cinema, the opportunities for a modern audience to believe their eyes are dwindling. As more and more films depend on CGI, and as those films remain predictably successful for the studios, we should not expect in the future to see very many Fitzcarraldo's or Lawrence of Arabia's. In a recent viewing of the former, one of Werner Herzog's many masterpieces, it's so easy to marvel at the pains that were gone through to ensure authenticity and realism. These efforts did not go to waste, not on me at least. I spent days thinking about the action in the film and what went into making it happen. How often do you spend more than a minute thinking about anything CGI I'd seen in an effect laden movie, despite the millions spent all in aid of the so-called "wow factor"? You know, the factor that barely registers and lasts for 6 seconds. The studios are not all to blame for this, if the audience didn't exist and was not consistently dependable, they wouldn't make the films. The most famous visual of Fitzcarraldo is of a huge 19th century steamer being hauled up and over a steep jungle mountain. You read that right, and yes, it looks as amazing as it sounds. Watching it take place on film is like watching someone else's dream. There is a magic about it, a mysticism, yet it's as bona fide as can be. I'd seen nothing like it ever before on celluloid. But why haven't I seen more of it? More on that later.

For those who haven't been lucky enough to see it yet, the infamous premise of Fitzcarraldo is complicated and daunting even to the imagination. In turn of the century South America, Brian Sweeney Fitzgerald (played memorably here by the hyper-passionate Klaus Kinski) dreams of building an opera house in South America for his hero, the tenor Enrico Caruso. To fund this, Fitzcarraldo, as the natives call him, must get rubber from a remote plantation considered unreachable due to due its being on a river of devastating rapids, sure to destroy any ship. To avoid the rapids and still get the rubber, he decides he will take his 340 ton steam ship down a parallel river to a point where the two waterways come closest to each other, separated by only the mountain. He then drags his ship over the sizable hill to the river on the other side that the rubber plantation is on, bypassing the rapids. Set in the harsh Amazon, director Herzog enlisted the help of dozens of the local indigenous population and actually dragged the enormous ship over the mountain. The wonderful result of this is that film feels like the best of both a feature and documentary. The crew and the Indians actually did clear a path over the densely forested mountain and the ship was actually manually dragged up and over. This was 1982, keep in mind, and without a huge budget or massive Hollywood crew, and it shows in a good way. In the film, the natives do all of the clearing work and a ingenious pulley system, made out of the surrounding nature, is devised to haul the ship, one inch at a time (a bulldozer was also used behind the scenes but that barely made it any easier or less incredible).

The effect of this realism is unquestionable. It can be seen in the faces and performances of the actors, who get to react as much as act. It can also be felt fully in the spirit of the film, which has the humanity and feeling present in so many Werner Herzog films, regardless of the subject matter. If you haven't seen any of the films of Mr. Herzog, do yourself a favor and start now. Add to this his notoriously difficult film locations, trudging deep into unforgiving jungles and sadistic conditions, and you have uncomparable films that feel like nothing else you've ever seen. And your eyes do not deceive you! You can believe in them completely. Compare this with almost any use of computer graphics and it's no competition. There is a reason films like Fitzcarraldo and Lawrence of Arabia remain relevant and undated forever, and films like 300 are just stairs on the way down to the "next big thing". Knowing that what you are watching is real, even if it is an unconscious understanding, multiplies the emotional impact exponentially. There is a hollowness, a weightlessness to films that use CGI. Your eyes are seeing something fake, and your brain knows that the stakes of what you are seeing are not really high, intuitively lowering your own expectations and standards. In this cinefile's opinion, that's a fate worse than death. Unless you're into that kind of stuff. For example, compare the mountainous visuals in a film like Scorsese's Kundun with the mountainous visuals of 300. It's like comparing van Gogh's Starry Night with a very well-done ad campaign. I don't care if it's for iPod, it ain't the same, and your brain knows it whether you want to admit it or not. There is no replacement for the natural. None.

I mention Lawrence of Arabia because if that film were made today, it would quite possibly have one of the largest budgets of all time. With the CGI and blue screen tools now available, it is doubtful any studio would have made it the way it originally was or that the film would be a tenth as memorable. The same goes for Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey. To this day, that film still has the best and most impressive science fiction special effects ever put to film and it was all done without computers. Every sci-fi film since has failed to live up to the magic and experience of 2001. Of course CGI can be used for good, in the right hands. My goal here is not to bash the mere existence of CGI films, but to voice my frustration that they receive so much attention. Of course, in the wider critical world they are in their rightful and dignified place, receiving the accolades or disapproval they deserve. But when the machinery of the entertainment industry steps in (the magazine covers, the profiles, the interviews, the embedded fans, the money, etc.) and puts these films up on a pedestal while ignoring less industry-whored productions, well, it's annoying. That's what angers me the most. Capitalism always wins, always gets the headline. And honestly, I'm fine with that, it could be worse. It's a film like 300 being forced down my throat that makes me gag, a film being the center of the entertainment world's attention for 3 weeks, like it's The Godfather redux, when there are more worthy, but less profitable titles.

Listen, I understand the politics of economy and of running a business and I am aware why a magnificent and deserving film such as The Lives of Others gets a fraction of the attention a film like 300 gets. I understand that you may think this is nitpicking, especially if you find the drama of 300 to be satiating. Don't get me wrong, I want to be entertained as much as the next guy, but some of us find film to be far beyond the simple notion of "entertainment" and are far more entertained when challenged. We are looking for a longer-lasting experience. But Hollywood has figured out that they don't need to risk as much or take as many chances. They know that there is an audience out there that doesn't care if they know exactly what they are in for when they go see a film. They don't care that before they go in they know exactly how they are going to feel after leaving the theater. In fact, it's a bonus, that's why they're going, comfort in conformity! They know what they like and they know that they are going to have fun, what else do they need? They probably even gave it a ten out of ten on IMDd a month before it came out. It's a win-win for the moguls. Why mess with a good thing?

Why? Because cinema is blessed, it is a splendid art-form that allows multiple other art forms to participate without friction. Films encompass and combine visual art, musical art, and literary art, all in one accessible and entertaining package. As a testament to its accessibility it has become big business. The downside of this, however, is that it has become perfectly acceptable for films to appeal to our most shallow and superficial senses. Since the end of the 70's, the best decade in American film, the industry has lowered its standards and the standards of the audience. It only gets worse as generations pass and become used to this watering down. Film critics are called out of touch with "mainstream America" when they champion the penetrating and profound over the trivial and accommodating. Lets not forget, certain aspects of mainstream America find it a positive trait to have a President who talks like a dim one of them instead of a President that raises the oratorical bar, lest we may learn a few things. To expect less from art than even a small intellectual challenge is selling yourself short. Few will disagree that impact and insight lay best within subtlety, not within a vicious blow to the head from the "obvious" hammer.

So, what can be done? Nothing, really. Just go home, sit down on your couch, pop in Fitzcarraldo, and dream of the way things could be. When you're done that, go rent the rest of the Herzog canon as well. It'll be start.