Review of Burden of Dreams (1982) by Grant P — 24 Jun 2009

Werner Herzog is an extraordinary figure. If this impression wasn't fully formed or even a conscious thought prior to viewing The Burden of Dreams, the German screenwriter/director's otherworldly persona will immediately assume center stage as he challenges impossible odds during the filming of Fitzcarraldo in the Ecuadorian and Peruvian jungles.

While retaining a sense of fervor that may have him labeled as a megalomaniac, Herzog still possesses the foresight and worldly view to recognize altruistic matters. Early in the film, both Herzog and narrator Candace Laughlin address various political and social issues, primarily the deforestation and corporate invasion of South America during the late 1970s and early '80s period. Herzog is intent on protecting his crew from savage nocturnal arrow attacks and foreign press rumors such as the crew's smuggling of illegal arms and the supposed interest in harming native culture. He retorts these claims, favoring cultural preservation by employing separate camps for his American/European cast and hundreds of native "extras," all while reasoning that his predicament is the result of small independent enterprise as opposed to a international conglomerate operation. Although more critical analysis of the press would have further elucidated the struggles of the crew, the recurring reminders and brief discussion nevertheless suffice. Additionally, in return for aiding Herzog's filmmaking endeavor, the natives are promised payment in terms of land titles, which will make their indigenous claims an official holding without the possibility of their territory becoming stripped away by oil or lumber companies.

So, while The Burden of Dreams is a broad study, the film sustains or falls back on Herzog's incredible audacity and individualism, which encircle the central theme of both Fitzcarraldo and this companion documentary. It's quite clear that director Les Blank is transfixed upon his subject's ideology, accentuated when Herzog utters, "If I abandon this project, I would be a man without dreams, and I don't want to live like that." Living, however, seems extraneous for Herzog, who is transformed into a mythical essence right before the camera lens. Suffering the harshness of nature in terms of sickness, ship catastrophes due to the dry weather season, monsoons and landslides, he remains an eternal optimist by justifying the jungle's effect in extracting extraordinary qualities from his cast. Furthermore, he personifies the landscape to reflect his own mechanics and inner struggles. Blank actually reserves a couple silent minutes in the film for a close-up montage of wildlife in their natural habitat to showcase its rather treacherous and imbalanced beauty. The jungle is "the land God has created in anger," Herzog remarks, and the place where He did not finish creation. This quote would appear pronounced in the opening seconds of Fitzcarraldo, yet Herzog's sentiments express a more enlightened love and admiration for its uncontaminated exsitence "despite his better judgment." Herzog's contemplation of the beauty in every living thing before consideration of his own needs distinguishes him as a divine vessel and an artist in the truest sense of the word. It's his belief that his cinematic dreams become the audiences' as well. For art's sake, I can only hope to eventually provide an a small example "inner chronicle of what we are" like Herzog has done repeatedly in his lifetime. It's something to hope for... dream, even.