Aguirre, the Wrath of GodIn the greenest of hells, a man's sanity is tested--not all will pass. Klaus Kinski plays Don Lope de Aguirre, the titular antagonist in Aguirre, the Wrath of God, a conquistador with ambition and a rebellious spirit which mutates into madness, an all-consuming desire to conquer the fabled land of El Dorado and establish a new dynasty, a new kingdom in the deepest reaches of the Amazon. His quest is ultimately a doomed one, as the opening preface informs us that the myth of El Dorado was fabricated by the natives in retaliation against the encroaching Spaniards. And unfortunately for Aguirre and his company, they do not share this crucial bit of knowledge.
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Aguirre is not the leader of the expedition; no, he is but a lieutenant in the crew initially led by Don Gonzalo Pizarro (Alejandro Repullés), who after experiencing immense hardship navigating the jungle--perhaps it was all the pageantry, the horses and carriages--he decides to send a reconnaissance group ahead to determine whether El Dorado can even be discovered, with the condition that they return if their efforts prove fruitless. This expedition is led by Don Pedro de Ursúa (Ruy Guerra), a brave but prudent man, who is accompanied by his lovely but cautious mistress, Doña Inéz (Helena Rojo). Aguirre is also accompanied by his teenage daughter, Florés (Cecilia Rivera), whom Aguirre protects and fawns over with an overly great intensity. The journey down the rapids is problematic from the start, with one of the rafts getting caught in an eddy, unable to break free, and then later beset by the natives, employing hit-and-run tactics and guerrilla warfare strategy against the ill-prepared invaders. When the survivors' rafts are washed away while they sleep, a secret coup takes place, and Aguirre solicits his right-hand man, the oily Perucho (Daniel Ades) to encourage the others to build a new raft against Ursua's wishes. Next, Aguirre rallies the group to disobey Ursua's command to return in defeat by invoking the memory of Hernan Cortez, who Aguirre cites as having become rich and famous by disobeying his orders to return, going on to conquer Mexico. By this point, the die has been cast, and Aguirre installs a puppet emperor via the only noble in the company, the gluttonous but merciful Don Fernando de Guzmán (Peter Berling), so that the company will still believe that they adhere to the same principals of nobility, even though they are committing treason. Chronicling the cursed crusade--and narrating the film--is the all but impotent priest Gaspar de Carvajal (Del Negro), who lacks any real fidelity, and allows himself to be enraptured by the prospect of earthly riches just as easily as the others under Aguirre's thumb. When Inéz seeks aid from him to encourage Aguirre to be merciful to her lover, Carvajal only spouts verse and uses the platform of divinity and strength to try to justify Aguirre's mutiny.
Aguirre, the Wrath of God is haunted by the eerie music of German electronic band Popol Vuh, which mists over the film with a dreamlike trance, a music that is melancholy and enigmatic. Along with the score is the native pan pipe, which feels deliriously out of place with its upbeat melody contrasted with the gravity of the company's treason and persistent threat of violence--but this seemingly mad choice of accompaniment reflects the lunacy that claws its way into Aguirre's psyche, pushing him further down the rabbit hole...or down the river as the case may be. This film by experimental auteur Werner Herzog also spends a good amount of time with the slaves that the Spaniards have brought with them, as opposed to simply confining them to background action. Personalizing the slaves is key, not only from a humanitarian stand point, but to draw attention to the irony that the same kind of people whom the conquistadors have enslaved are now hunting them...the predators have become the prey. The inability of the company to relate to the natives highlights their disadvantage. Carvajal claims to bring the God to the savages, but when given the opportunity to do so with an emissary--who due to a misunderstanding about the Bible containing the "word of God", holds the book to his ear--he condemns the native as a blasphemer and does little to endear himself--or his God--in their eyes. Like a plague, the madness spreads, and Aguirre and his crew plot out swathes of land they pass on the raft as property of their new empire, act out of impulse rather than rationale, such as when they toss their only horse overboard in the midst of an ongoing food shortage. Hallucinations run rampant for the survivors, and their mystical El Dorado remains elusively "further down the river". In a way, the party is like the little silky anteater that Aguirre shows to his daughter, claiming that the creature sleeps its whole life away...that it is "never truly awake". So, too, is the experience of Aguirre, the Wrath of God--dreamlike and mysterious, like the conquistadors descending from the clouds by mountain trail, or the raft overrun by hundreds of tiny monkeys--his army of El Dorado, the eerie score and surreal visuals paint a vivid picture of the descent into madness amid the sweltering jungles of South America, in an ignoble pursuit of riches and power. When Aguirre finally asks "who's with me", how can we refuse, for we are already caught in his spiraling vortex of insanity.
Recommended for: Fans of ambitious and bold visions of adventure and cautionary tales of greed and avarice, and the perils that threaten the unprepared and foolish in their quest into the heart of darkness.
Aguirre, the Wrath of God is haunted by the eerie music of German electronic band Popol Vuh, which mists over the film with a dreamlike trance, a music that is melancholy and enigmatic. Along with the score is the native pan pipe, which feels deliriously out of place with its upbeat melody contrasted with the gravity of the company's treason and persistent threat of violence--but this seemingly mad choice of accompaniment reflects the lunacy that claws its way into Aguirre's psyche, pushing him further down the rabbit hole...or down the river as the case may be. This film by experimental auteur Werner Herzog also spends a good amount of time with the slaves that the Spaniards have brought with them, as opposed to simply confining them to background action. Personalizing the slaves is key, not only from a humanitarian stand point, but to draw attention to the irony that the same kind of people whom the conquistadors have enslaved are now hunting them...the predators have become the prey. The inability of the company to relate to the natives highlights their disadvantage. Carvajal claims to bring the God to the savages, but when given the opportunity to do so with an emissary--who due to a misunderstanding about the Bible containing the "word of God", holds the book to his ear--he condemns the native as a blasphemer and does little to endear himself--or his God--in their eyes. Like a plague, the madness spreads, and Aguirre and his crew plot out swathes of land they pass on the raft as property of their new empire, act out of impulse rather than rationale, such as when they toss their only horse overboard in the midst of an ongoing food shortage. Hallucinations run rampant for the survivors, and their mystical El Dorado remains elusively "further down the river". In a way, the party is like the little silky anteater that Aguirre shows to his daughter, claiming that the creature sleeps its whole life away...that it is "never truly awake". So, too, is the experience of Aguirre, the Wrath of God--dreamlike and mysterious, like the conquistadors descending from the clouds by mountain trail, or the raft overrun by hundreds of tiny monkeys--his army of El Dorado, the eerie score and surreal visuals paint a vivid picture of the descent into madness amid the sweltering jungles of South America, in an ignoble pursuit of riches and power. When Aguirre finally asks "who's with me", how can we refuse, for we are already caught in his spiraling vortex of insanity.
Recommended for: Fans of ambitious and bold visions of adventure and cautionary tales of greed and avarice, and the perils that threaten the unprepared and foolish in their quest into the heart of darkness.