In his new documentary, NOMAD, Werner Herzog explores the late Bruce Chatwin

TrustMovies has long been fascinated by the traveler/journalist/ novelist Bruce Chatwin. I've read every book he'd written, each of which I'd loved and been mystified by in about equal measure. Reading him is being marvelously transported then suddenly going either over the top or under the rug to the point that I would usually stop and start over from some past sentence, paragraph or even entire page. His subjects were as diverse as you could wish but his themes seemed fairly consistent to me: restlessness and the other. I would call both the man and his work ineffable -- in the sense of being somehow indescribable and also not-to-be-uttered, the latter of which was how he handled the disease that killed him. Chatwin, shown below, was one of the early victims of AIDS. Married to a woman, he kept his homosexuality and/or bisexuality tightly closeted.

If you were to pick a moviemaker to also describe as ineffable, I can't imagine a better candidate than Werner Herzog, a director and documentarian whose field of interest is every bit as diverse as Chatwin's and whose approach to it all is equally memorable, as well as over the top and under the rug. 

Before viewing Herzog's new film, NOMAD: In the Footstep of Bruce Chatwin, I didn't realize how very close these two men were. No wonder the film that Herzog has made captures so well the personality and strangeness of his most unusual subject. In a number of ways, these two oddball artists were made for each other.

As usual in his films, Herr Herzog hops all over the place, and if we may have trouble keeping up, at least he does not bore us. The filmmaker, shown at right, begins with some dinosaur skin -- or at least that's what Chatwin's grandmother told the kid this strange pre-historic object was (it turns out, I believe, to be part of a giant sloth). From there Herzog takes us into Chatwin's life and love of wandering, his varied interests, his writings and how some of these came about, the people he knew and loved (we meet his wife, Elizabeth, shown below, from the rear, though we do also see her face), and eventually even something of his sexuality: a horny little guy, he is said to have bedded any and every one he could, men and women alike.

As you might expect, Herzog spends much of the movie's time on Chatwin's famous work The Songlines and speaks with various Aborigines and white Australians about this unusual book. Though a best-seller in several countries in the non-fiction category, Chatwin later called the book fiction, some of which it clearly was (turns out that Bruce "made stuff up" when it served his purpose and theme). Well, that's part of what makes the guy "ineffable" (or, as some might call it, "precious"). I've long felt that Herr Herzog does the same thing in many of his films; that's part of their charm and their craziness.

What we learn of The Viceroy of Ouidah (and Herzog's film adaptation of it) is also fascinating, in particular the information about its star, Klaus Kinski (this film proved the last collaboration between Kinski and Herzog). Some of the archival photos enrich our understanding, as well (below are the director and his subject in their earlier days).

The most moving section of the film involves Chatwin's impending death and Herzog's part in it. It's difficult to watch this and not feel, all over again, how AIDS so decimated the world's artistic community. For Herzog fans, as well as Chatwin's, the movie is a must, and I suspect it may ensnare some newcomers, too, who will then seek out this unusual writer and his work.

From Music Box Films and running 85 minutes, NOMAD: In the Footstep of Bruce Chatwin will open in virtual (and even a few actual) theaters, beginning this Wednesday, August 26. To view all currently scheduled theatrical and streaming playdates, click here and then scroll down to click on Theatrical Engagements.

Werner Herzog's look at the Internet age: LO AND BEHOLD, Reveries of the Connected World

As someone who runs hot (Into the Abyss) to lukewarm (Cave of Forgotten Dreams) regarding the work of Werner Herzog, TrustMovies would call his new documentary, LO AND BEHOLD, Reveries of the Connected World, one of his better endeavors. In it, this peripatetic filmmaker, whose interests seem to be about as vast as our universe, concentrates on some of the ways our world has changed and continues to change thanks (and sometimes not) to the impact of the Internet.

Herr Herzog, shown at right, is present here, as so often, not only in the visuals he's chosen to shoot but in the interviewing and narration he supplies. He questions his subjects but lets them go on into whatever tangents might interest them (and him, and us). He has divided his doc into something like ten chapters, beginning with The Early Days -- in which he gives us the chance to meet and enjoy web pioneer Ted Nelson, whose remembrance as a child of the way water worked around his fingers is quite lovely and profound -- to his final chapter, The Future, in which he notes how all our movies and TV shows got the future so wrong. No flying cars, space travel or aliens -- but something nobody quite managed to imagine back then: the Internet!

It's this kind of notion -- charming, surprising, observant and wry -- in which Herzog excels. In between the beginning and end of his new film, the filmmaker covers all kinds of odd and interesting stuff. One chapter is devoted to the dark side of the Internet, with one particular family and their terrible history shown front and center.

We also see and wonder at people today who can (sometimes must) avoid the Net: those allergic to cell phone towers and frequencies. We are made privy to what might be the end of the Net, as well (solar flairs, anyone?). We meet some smart hackers (Kevin Mitnik is one of these), hear and see Elon Musk talk about possible life on Mars (his view is thoroughly demolished by one smart woman), meet some intelligent robots and watch them work, and even hear from the man who invented the self-driving car.

It's all thoughtful and fun and occasionally scary and moving, too. Overall, this is one of Herzog's loveliest, most discursive (in a good way) and far-reaching works.

From Magnolia Pictures and running a just-about-right 98 minutes, the movie opens all across the country on Friday, August 19. In New York City, look for it at the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center; in Los Angeles at Landmark's NuArt, and here in South Florida at the Bill Cosford Cinema in Coral Gables and the Lake Worth Playhouse in Lake Worth. To see all currently scheduled playdates, with cities and t heaters listed, click here.

Siberian rhapsody: Vasyukov & Herzog's HAPPY PEOPLE: A YEAR IN THE TAIGA

If you have ever wan-ted to spend some time in the distant and cold Siberian wonder-land known as the Taiga, have I got a movie for you! It's a documentary originally shot by, from what I can gather, a newcom-er to Russian filmmak-ing, Dmitry Vasyukov (for Russian television, perhaps?) and then edited down from its four-hour length to just 90 minutes by documentary maven Werner Herzog, who then narrates the mini-film he has created out of Vasyukov's footage.

Herr Herzog (Grizzly Man, The White Diamond), shown at right, is no slouch when it comes to the documentary format, though his narrations (Cave of Forgotten Dreams -- yikes!) can sometimes up-end things a bit. Here, though, he has put together a lovely little narrative guide to his compressed version of Vasyulov's film (the original filmmaker is shown below), allowing us to spend what seems like just the right amount of time in this frosty landscape with its thought-ful but taciturn trappers as they go about their work (lots) and play (little) during the full calendar year of the movie's sub-title.

What makes this film as unusual as it is, and so innately interesting, I think, is that the inhabitants here live and work in conditions not all that much different from those of a century (or two, or three) past. How it this possible, in this day and age, we wonder? Well, the Taiga is still a wilderness, remote from civilization (as we know it, at least). Running water? Telephones (of any kind)? Medical aid? Forget 'em. Along with much else that we would consider mandatory. (They do seem to have electricity -- or batteries.) And yet, as we spend time here, especially with the hunter/trappers on whom the documentarians concentrate, the lives of these singular men begin to seem, well, more and more "normal."

I believe that Herzog's narrative (composed with the help of Vasyukov and Herzog's son Rudolf), always fluid and to the point, has much to do with this, along with his usual feeling for and understanding of his subjects. However odd the place that the filmmaker chooses to visit -- in the middle of a bunch of bears or on death row -- he brings us up-close-and-personal as best he can. And this is usually quite close enough.

The men we spend most of our time with are two hunter/trappers, Vasily and Gehnady, from whom we learn everything from how to set a foolproof and relatively humane trap, to how to keep other predators away from the kill -- and mice away from one's provisions. The small windows of their huts are sealed with soft plastic rather than glass, which the bears too easily break.

We learn about trees and skis, and the importance of a straight board. As for tools, "A good wedge is a man's savior," notes a trapper, as he demonstrates just why. Mosquitoes? Yeah, and like you've never seen them (the natives must make their own insect repellent -- out of tar).

All of this information and so much more must be passed from father to son, as we occasionally see being done. Is there any choice in this for the offspring? Do any of them head off to the big city? It would seem not. With no TV, radio or newspapers, do the children even know that an outside world exists?

As you might suspect, the dogs here are indeed man's best friends, and probably the most moving (and caring) parts of the movie involve the men's tales about their canines. One story, concerning Vasily's dogs and a bear, is something else.

With only a couple of exceptions over the years, the subjects that seem to interest Herr Herzog, he manages to make interest us, too. With Happy People, as with so many other of his films, we viewers simply trail along behind him, happily. The documentary, via Music Box Films, opens this Friday, January 25, in New York City exclusively at the IFC Center. To see all upcoming playdates -- in 25 cities around the country -- simply click here, and then click on the word THEATERS about halfway down the screen.

Werner Herzog bounces back with crime/ punishment investigation INTO THE ABYSS

After his off-and-on-the-mark, earliest-paintings documentary, Cave of Forgotten Dreams, in which one of the world's most interesting documentarians, Werner Herzog, explored Chauvet Cave (in 3-D, yet!) but seemed to get a little drunk on his own, somewhat pompous, narration, the man is back with one of the most humane, far-reaching movies in some time. INTO THE ABYSS explores capital punishment from several angles -- that of the victim of the state, his earlier victims, and the relatives of both. As it moves inward to probe the thoughts and feelings of all these people, the movie simultaneously expands outward until it embraces our society at large. What it (and what you) will make of this is something sad and profound and not a little disturbing -- and yet, surprise of surprises, it is not judgmental.

Herzog himself (shown at right) goes on record upfront by telling us and his interviewees that he is against capital punishment. But then he simply interviews, asking each person thoughtful, germane questions without any attitude attached. Consequently, the answers come back as genuine and real -- except in the case of the young man about to be executed (Michael Perry, below), who never appears to have grown up enough to accept anything approaching responsibility. Is he mentally challenged? A sociopath?  W can't know from what we see here, nor, I think, does the filmmaker believe that it matters much.

Into the Abyss is the third film (that I've seen; there may have more even more) in nearly as many weeks to implicate, if not indict, its location -- our formerly Bush-led and now Perry-ized state of Texas (Incendiary and Texas Killing Fields were the other two). Seeing these three films in fairly quick succession (two are docs, one is narrative based on a real tale) cannot help but make one wonder what is (and isn't) going on there that should (or should not) be. When, suddenly, we are confronted with the fact that one of the adults we're listening to was illiterate at the time of which he speaks, it comes as the kind of shock, the ramifications of which seem to expand exponentially.

With the exception of the late Mr. Perry, the other characters seem genuinely to believe what they are telling us -- from the father of one of the killers (himself imprisoned, above), who gives by far the most moving testimony, to his son's wife, who began one of those long-distance letter-writing correspondences and is now married to the murderer.

That this young man (Jason Delbert, below) is unable to be paroled until he hits around 60 years of age seems to daunt no one.

Via the families of the boy's victims, one of whom is shown below, we also get both more and less than we might have imagined: more specifics, more depth but less anger.

Unlike the bizarre connections he insisted on making in "Cave," here Herzog is content to simply give us information and let us work it into what we will: for instance, what happened to the red Camaro, below, that appears to have been the motive behind the initial killings.

Even the executioner (below, if you can call him that: he's a tool of the state) manages to make what happens seems almost humane. Yet it is clearly not. So much so, in fact, that the man himself must eventually give up his job -- and at what a cost!

I don't think Into the Abyss will turn many people against (or for that matter, pro) capital punishment. But it will make them think, feel and then think again. Even-handed in the very best way by giving us nothing more nor less than humanity itself, the movie -- 106 minutes, from Sundance Selects -- begins its limited theatrical run today, Friday, November 11, after making its NYC debut as the opening night attraction of DOC-NYC.

In New York City you can catch it at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema and the IFC Center. In Los Angeles, see it at The Landmark, and note that tomorrow, November 12, Herr Herzog himself will appear in person at the 7:20 and 10pm screenings of that L.A. theater.

Werner Herzog's 3-D CAVE OF FORGOT-TEN DREAMS: visuals, yes; narration, no

What a privilege it is to be able to go into Chauvet Cave -- the latest, though probably not the last, in the ongoing discoveries of blocked-off caves containing pre-historic remains and early human art. We owe film director Werner Herzog (shown below) a great deal of gratitude for going there, getting permission to film the place and bringing us with him and his crew -- in 3-D yet -- to take a look. There: I've paid my "grateful" debt; now I can raise a bunch of objections to a film, CAVE OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS, that had me alternately enraptured and annoyed.

It really is a pleasure to be able to see these newly discovered cave paintings, which seem remarkably fresh and, yes, sophisticated in some ways.  Even if we went to Chavet in person, we couldn't get in: The cave is not open to the public in order to truly preserve the art. (Opening the Lascaux cave to the public has proven semi-disastrous.) And the use of a 3-D camera was at least a semi-smart choice. As usual, with this new 3-D, the image remains a little too dark and a little too... blurry isn't quite the right word: maybe fuzzy. But the 3-D allows us to imagine that we are seeing "around" the images, even if we are not, and because they are painted onto walls that curve and dip and rise, the added dimension makes all this seem more "real."

And yet Herzog really doesn't use the 3-D for all it's worth.  He's too "good," too "classy" to allow images to seem to come toward us out of the screen; something like that might offer a little too much fun. In one scene/interview, his subject picks up a spear and tosses it -- away from the audience. This whole scene, in fact, seems like visual vamping on the director's part.

His "interviews" with various scientists and archeologists are another matter -- particulary one with a young archeologist (below) who tells the filmmaker that he used to be a circus performer (talk about an unusual change of career!). When, later, he tries to explain how and why he sometimes must stay away from the cave, the film for a moment takes on some the mystery and allusiveness (allusivity?) that the filmmaker so loves.

Which brings us to his narration of the movie, which -- were the movie's subject not so damned interesting -- would be the deal-breaker here. Herzog loves his own narrations (he write 'em and speaks 'em), and perhaps the sound of his own voice, which, when they work -- Grizzly Man, The White Diamond -- can do wonders. When they do not -- The Wild Blue Yonder and now this "Cave" -- his films come closer to ridiculous than sublime. There is so much pompous babbling here (did someone feel the need to expand the film to a full 90 minutes?) that you can only wonder that no one close to the filmmaker had the balls to say, "Werner, shut the fuck up!" Well, allow me.

From the film's romanticized, semi-pompous/cliched title (Whose dreams? Who forgot 'em? Who cares?) to his meanderings on "What exactly took place here? Only the paintings could tell us." Well, no they couldn't because painting can't talk. We're going to have to interpret and extrapolate and maybe simply guess, Werner, just like always, when we make "history" out of "art."  Does this man have a need to to create something faintly religious from all of this? Perhaps. Calling this art the "beginning of the modern human soul " seems weird enough, but by the time (film's finish) when the guy begins imagining (at least I think this is imagination) a nearby hot springs complete with albino alligators (as art critics, yet!), the jig is most definitely up.

The audience I sat with during the screening were respectfully silent throughout (some may have been sleeping), but when you see the movie (if you're a cave-art/history buff, you certainly will), you have my permission to giggle now and then.

Cave of Forgotten Dreams, an IFC Films release (90 minutes and in 3-D, at some theaters) will open Friday, April 29, in New York City at the IFC Center (in 3-D) and the Lincoln Plaza Cinema (in 2-D). It will certainly be playing elsewhere around the country, but unlike most films from IFC, this one will not be available via VOD (for the time being, at least).