Review of Fitzcarraldo (1982) by Tom R — 01 Mar 2010

Fitzcarraldo evokes Heart of Darkness in both plot and theme. A man, personifying civilization, is driven by desire down a river into the world of uncivil man, and is pitted against nature and his base instincts. Fitzcarraldo is an opera lover and capitalist who seeks his fortune in the rubber trees of the Peruvian jungle. He sets his eyes on a region untouched by civilized man, naturally guarded by deadly rapids. He takes his steamboat down a parallel river and resolves to carry (with the help of uncivilized Indians, who usually kill any who venture there) it over the mountain separating him from his rubber. Much has been made of the fact Werner Herzog accomplished this in reality with a 320 ton steam boat and a system of pulleys. "A great metaphor. For what, I don't know." he says in "My Best Fiend". In my opinion Fitzcarraldo, his boat, and the act of defeating the mountain represent the triumph of the loftier side of civilization over the uncaring wilderness. He does not get his rubber in the end, as the Indians cut loose his ship's tethers while he sleeps and it drifts into the treacherous rapids, the "evil spirits". Yet he and his ship survive, and he returns to Iquitos empty-handed but triumphant nonetheless. He sells the ship and hires an opera. The ideal side of civilized man - the man of adventure for its own sake, opera, and invention - has won out over his greed. A distinction is made early on between Fitzcarraldo and his fellow capitalists. They revel in "the ecstasy of losing money" and scorn his passion for the opera. He cares nothing for their card games or decadence. When he tries to inspire passion in them with his Caruso records he is treated with contempt. They are the dark and base side of civilized man. Conquering the mountain was Fitzcarraldo's triumph; the rapids, his purgatory.

Klaus Kinski's performance is as magnetic as ever, though at times he is clearly aloof and he is less suited to domesticated roles such as this. The cinematography is as beautiful as we can expect of Werner Herzog, with magisterial long sweeps of the impenetrably mysterious jungle and emphasis on the flimsiness of the human settlements conveying his reverence of the natural world. The score lacks the ethereal quality of Aguirre's, but this film is not Aguirre. It is more accessible, more pedestrian, more plot-driven. It is not as simple or vital as Herzog's early masterpiece, but it offers greater entertainment and beauty.