A list from the Kermode Uncut Blog
Also at A Piece of Monologue:
20.7.12
19.7.12
Mark Kermode's Top 5 Cronenberg films
A list from the Kermode Uncut Blog
Also at A Piece of Monologue:
4.7.09
Conquest of the Useless: Werner Herzog on Fitzcarraldo
Review of a new memoir by the Bavarian filmmaker
Danny Leigh of The Guardian has posted an online review of Werner Herzog's new book, Conquest of the Useless, recording the arduous and infinitely troubled production of Fitzcarraldo:
"Caracas, 21 June 1979: No one came to meet me. My passport was confiscated immediately because I had no visa."
[...] The quote comes from Herzog's diaries of the mythic two-year shoot in the jungles of Peru, just published in the US, excerpted in the New York Times and picked up by blogs including the IFC Daily. All proof, if needed, that I'm not the only one fascinated by this epic folly of a movie – a grand mission statement in which an ascendant young director flung himself into a comically hostile terrain, endangering career and health in the name of a notion of art that seemed quaintly old-fangled even at the time.
But vivid as the first-person, present-tense account of the production (the camp being burned down by troops in the midst of a border war and crew members cutting off their feet after snakebites, etc) surely is, one of the most striking aspects about the book is the apparent weight it gives to Herzog's stay prior to the shoot with none other than Francis Ford Coppola. The American director was then in San Francisco recovering from a hernia operation. Not only does this provide some beautifully deadpan Herzogian moments ("Coppola did not like the pillows and complained all afternoon") – the pairing takes on a special significance because of his host's other malady, the still-fresh trauma of making Apocalypse Now.
I am fascinated by Werner Herzog's philosophical approach to life, and what he refers to as ecstatic truth. His early filmmaking roughly corresponds to the New German Cinema, a movement which sought to activate new ways to represent and discuss culture and reality. Ecstatic truth, as an idea, remains true to this bold and progressive ambition, hoping to capture a sense of reality that goes beyond straightforward empirical facts, or the contemporary conventions of European cinema.
Instead, ecstatic truth is a kind of spiritual affirmation that exists between the lines, or behind the superficial gloss of the on-screen images; and yet it is not spiritual in any theological sense, nor does it adhere to any cultural set of beliefs. To borrow a phrase from the title of Alan Yentob's BBC documentary on Herzog, it is a truth 'beyond reason': highly subjective and deeply personal.
For me, what is most interesting about Herzog's work is that he seeks to find a sense of ecstatic truth in the most extreme circumstances. Perhaps this is the only place it can be found, if it is to exist at all. His films are often structured around characters who are in some way at odds with the world, strangers in a universe divested of meaning and surrounded by 'chaos, hostility and murder'. It sounds like a very fatalistic, Germanic philosophical approach, but I think that to dismiss it as negative or nihilistic is to miss Herzog's point.
The concept of ecstatic truth ties into a loose cultural idea of spiritual enlightenment and individual empowerment, but it is without sentiment or naive idealism. It is a way of looking at the world as both brutal and chaotic, but embracing those qualities in nature for what they are. It accepts that humankind cannot dominate or control nature as such, but is enthusiastic about the engagement. On the set of Fitzcarraldo, deep in the jungle, Herzog speaks of the 'obscenity of the jungle', stating that even 'the stars look like a mess', and yet, in spite of this, he continues to love and admire the nature that surrounds him - perhaps 'against [his] better judgment'.
Ecstatic truth does not imply security or stability, there are no great discoveries and no guarantees of empirical knowledge: in this sense it is a necessary conquest of the useless, a journey with no signposts or destinations. It is a continual task, undertaken not for the benefit of mankind but for the benefit of oneself. And I think that there is something perversely romantic and aspirational about Herzog's approach; in many ways it feels reminiscent of Nietzsche roaming the wild mountains and finding peace in the wilderness.
To seek one's individual sense of truth among the elements is surely as noble a project as any, and many of Werner Herzog's films seem to be pursuing exactly that kind of philosophical aim: it is an attempt to create one's place in the universe, or, as Herzog puts it, to continually search for 'a deeper stratum of truth' about oneself and the wider world.
More on Werner Herzog:
- Werner Herzog on Fitzcarraldo and the obscenity of the jungle
- Review of Grizzly Man here at A Piece of Monologue
- German trailer for Fitzcarraldo (with English subtitles)
- Werner Herzog | Official website
- Werner Herzog discusses his work on The Henry Rollins Show
- Werner Herzog shot by an air rifle while being interviewed by Mark Kermode
- BBC Imagine: 'Werner Herzog: Beyond Reason': Part One | Part Two
- Film in Focus: Paul Cronin interviews Werner Herzog
- Time Magazine: Werner Herzog on Fitzcarraldo
9.4.09
Mr. Movies: Mark Kermode talks to Mark Lawson
'Horror is at the (skewered, bleeding) heart of his obsession with films - not even the director of The Exorcist has name-checked it so often in public - and one inevitably seeks a Freudian explanation in his childhood. Did someone jump out of a cupboard and frighten him at an impressionable age?'The Guardian has published a wonderful interview with popular film critic Mark Kermode, written by cultural commentator Mark Lawson. I've been an avid fan of Kermode's reviews since I was thirteen, after catching him in a documentary he wrote and presented on the film Blade Runner. His knowledge and his enthusiasm shine through whenever he is discussing the films he loves, but he is often equally passionate about the films that he hates. He co-hosts a Radio 5 programme with Simon Mayo on Friday afternoons, which has become popular for his rantings as much as for the banter. But whatever you might think of Kermode, or his opinions, he is rarely less than entertaining.
'[Kermode:] "Ha! From when I was very young, I always liked horror films. I remember very clearly seeing the trailer for The Exorcist when I was 11. I knew that I couldn't go to see the film - but just the idea of it was enough. A car pulling up outside a house, and a voice saying that something beyond comprehension is happening to someone inside. I remember the sense of transcendent terror; a sense of something beyond this world and beyond our comprehension. For some people it's football, for some people it's girls, for others it's pot and, for me, it was horror. And I want to be very clear about this: it made me very happy to be scared. I really liked the feeling and I cherished those nightmares."'
Lawson's interview touches on Kermode's radio programme, its possibilities for the future, and the reviewer's recent forays into presenting with BBC arts programme The Culture Show. Kermode shares his passion for the horror genre in particular, and discusses the influence that his wife, film professor Linda Ruth Williams, has on his reviews. Lawson suggests that Kermode's relationship with his wife could be his main weakness as an interpreter of modern cinema; I think that he's just an occasional sucker for sentimentality.
You can read The Guardian's interview in full by clicking here; you can find the official BBC Culture Show website here; or, if you'd like to find out more about Mark Kermode's weekly radio show with Simon Mayo, you can listen live or download a recent podcast here. Enjoy!
3.3.09
Waiting for Godot on BBC's The Culture Show
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'At 30 minutes, The Culture Show (BBC Two, Tuesday 10pm) is too long. Mark Kermode's hair continues to amaze. A heavy sculpture on top of his head. If it collapses, he will be crushed to death. Mark handed out Kermodes, little statues in the shape of himself, to scriptwriters, directors and actors that Hollywood had overlooked but he had not. It was all very postmodern.
'The presenter, Lauren Laverne, showed Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart, both soon to appear in Waiting for Godot, Beckett's original notebooks. They were surprisingly full for one who dealt in emptiness. Lauren, dressed as Estragon or perhaps Vladimir, asked, "Can Godot engage with the credit crunch?" Apparently, the play might prompt theatregoers to be more aware of the problem of homelessness. Yeah, right.'
Gary Day, 'Good Works'Times Higher Educational Supplement, 26th February 2009
While paging through a recent edition of the TLS, I came across a summary of some of the recently aired TV shows broadcast across the UK. Among the shows under review was BBC Two's Culture Show, a hip/indie outlook on all that's new and upcoming in the world of music, literature, art and film. I happen to be a big supporter of the show, not least for the presence of film critic Mark Kermode, whose weekly reviews on FiveLive have gotten me through many a dark night of the soul; it achieves a pleasant and accessible mix of high and low culture through a series of short asides and quirky clips.
The edition under review included a short interview with actors Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart, who were caught on-set of the latest British production of Waiting for Godot. I happened to catch it a few days after the episode had aired. Lauren Laverne managed to snag a minute or two out of their busy schedule to ask them their opinions of their roles before taking the show on the road this March. There were a number of interesting tidbits from Beckett's life and work, along with an outline of the play's historical significance to modern drama and post-war European culture. And in all, it was an upbeat and enjoyable summary of both Beckett and the play.
I only have one reservation. While attempting to emphasize Waiting for Godot's relevance to an economically-troubled Europe, I think The Culture Show neglected to recall the humour and dry wit that characterizes the play, and Beckett's work in general. I had the impression that Lauren Laverne was attempting to drum up support and appreciation for an unremittingly bleak and outdated theatrical work. But it is the humour that makes Waiting for Godot such an enduring success, and probably offers one of the primary keys to its continued accessibility. It might be a play exploring the trouble and torment of human existence, but it's not without laughs.
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