Not much in Werner Herzog’s early filmography
suggests a strong sense of humor—his breakthrough movie, Aguirre, the Wrath of God (1972), is a
harrowing saga involving incest, madness, murder, and obsession—but Stroszek is probably as close as the
filmmaker ever came to making an outright comedy. To be clear, Stroszek is very much a Herzog film,
because the storyline is bleak, fatalistic, and tragic. However, there’s a
strong sense of irony and satire running through the picture, and Stroszek offers a skewed outsider’s
vision of rural America, since most of the picture was shot in Wisconsin. The
strangeness one often associates with Herzog’s movies is present, as well. For
example, poultry plays a major role in the final scenes.
Stroszek opens in Berlin, with the release from prison of
simple-minded Bruno Stroszek (played by real-life artist/musician Bruno S.).
After receiving a long speech from the prison warden about how Bruno needs to
avoid booze because excessive drinking gets him into trouble, Bruno happily
exits the prison—carrying his accordion and trumpet—and walks into a nearby
establishment called “Beer Heaven.” Picking up the pieces of his old life,
Bruno reconnects with elderly eccentric Mr. Scheitz (Clemens Scheitz) and
friendly prostitute Eva (Eva Mattes). Together, they form a surrogate family,
even though each is basically a loser. After Eva gets roughed up one too many
times by her pimp, the trio relocates to America, where Mr. Scheitz’ nephew,
Clayton (Clayton Szalpinksi), operates a low-rent auto garage in the boonies.
While Bruno works for Clayton and Eva works as a waitress, the Germans pursue
their version of the American Dream, even buying a large mobile home. Alas,
their spending outpaces their income, so domestic strife emerges.
On every
possible level, Stroszek is both
exactly what it appears to be—a simplistic travelogue performed by
nonactors—and so much more. Herzog’s use of untrained performers creates an
oddly credible vibe, because the behavior of the people onscreen is
so peculiar that it rings true. Haven’t we all met people who seem out of sync
with the rest of the world, as if they take commands from voices only they can
hear? Similarly, the straightforward narrative, which is almost completely
bereft of plot twists, has the mundane quality of real life. Things just
happen. And, this being a Herzog film, most of those things are disorienting
and/or disappointing.
Leading man Bruno S., a former mental patient in real
life, doesn’t really act, per se; rather, he simply exists on camera,
delivering his singular mix of childlike enthusiasm and deep-seated ennui. In
one scene, he makes a sculpture from what appear to be Lincoln Longs, then
says, “Eva, I have constructed a schematic representation of how Bruno feels
when they’re gently closing all the doors to him.” Indeed, the myriad scenes in
which life removes the character’s sense of security are unexpectedly moving.
By the time this film’s offbeat protagonist responds to a series of setbacks by
making his escape with a frozen turkey as a traveling companion, he becomes
something of a hero, even though his predicament is a direct result of
drunkenness. To cite a metaphor that will only make sense after seeing Stroszek, we’re all just chickens
dancing our way to oblivion.
Herzog has expressed his nihilistic worldview more
powerfully in other films, but he’s rarely done so with a tonality so closely
approaching warmth.
Stroszek:
GROOVY
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