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A review by melanie_reads
Conquest of the Useless: Reflections from the Making of Fitzcarraldo by Werner Herzog
2.0
Coronavirus (update: Coronavirus + Rebellion 2020) book review #43 – 2.5 stars
Meh, this isn’t the moment for this book, the journal in which he chronicles the making of his masterpiece Fitzcarraldo.
The NY Times recently ran an article about the lack of diversity among The Criterion Collection, the seminal film collection, and I’ve been unable to stop thinking about it. Herzog’s journal also raises the specter of whose stories get told.
There’s no dearth of the musings for which Herzog is known, and which I find wildly amusing.
But to be honest, I couldn’t help thinking about what the Native people’s perception of Herzog and his film crew was. He makes references to made up stories in the press and I have to wonder, were they really made-up? Wasn’t he acting the full white man? How is it that he can spend over two years to make this movie, including filming Mick Jagger, one of the biggest rock stars of all time, only to ditch it later?
I also struggle with the blatant misogyny. Kinski doesn’t want to talk to a woman on the radio. The endless stream of nameless Native women who are sick and dying. It’s hard to look at Herzog’s story without looking at the stories of the nameless he encounters. To say nothing of the treatment of the local animals.
When you open your eyes to see someone else’s story, you start to question everything. I so wanted to love this book to recognize the privilege of clinging to one's dream to share what's in your soul, but alas.
Meh, this isn’t the moment for this book, the journal in which he chronicles the making of his masterpiece Fitzcarraldo.
The NY Times recently ran an article about the lack of diversity among The Criterion Collection, the seminal film collection, and I’ve been unable to stop thinking about it. Herzog’s journal also raises the specter of whose stories get told.
There’s no dearth of the musings for which Herzog is known, and which I find wildly amusing.
But to be honest, I couldn’t help thinking about what the Native people’s perception of Herzog and his film crew was. He makes references to made up stories in the press and I have to wonder, were they really made-up? Wasn’t he acting the full white man? How is it that he can spend over two years to make this movie, including filming Mick Jagger, one of the biggest rock stars of all time, only to ditch it later?
I also struggle with the blatant misogyny. Kinski doesn’t want to talk to a woman on the radio. The endless stream of nameless Native women who are sick and dying. It’s hard to look at Herzog’s story without looking at the stories of the nameless he encounters. To say nothing of the treatment of the local animals.
When you open your eyes to see someone else’s story, you start to question everything. I so wanted to love this book to recognize the privilege of clinging to one's dream to share what's in your soul, but alas.