Review of Grizzly Man (2005) by Michele S — 11 Jun 2010

If forced to choose at gunpoint between several life-threatening scenarios, I would rather run naked through a burning building, bellyflop off the Niagara Falls, whisper secrets to a rattlesnake, fight Jet-Li in a match to the death, or enter a terrorist camp dressed as Uncle Sam than submit to the last alternative: standing toe-to-paw with the foaming jaws of a grizzly bear.

It might even be a safer option to tramp into a prison cafeteria - a giant red bow tied to one's head - and shout, "Howdy, boys! Where can a fella get a meal around here?".

Yet, here we have a man who opted for the worst, living among grizzly bears for thirteen summers. Walking among them, filming them, and even petting them if they came close enough. His name was Timothy Treadwell. He was many things to many people. His life and the footage of his grizzly excursions, revived in Werner Herzog's fascinating documentary, have heavily divided Treadwell's image among the world. Whatever your thoughts on the man are, I think we can agree that his story and the crunching denouement to that story serve as a fascinating and haunting portrayal of man's rapt curiosity with nature and the reciprocal limits to which nature indulges that dangerous curiosity.

So how does a man drift so far from civilization? What catalyzes that denial? While it is Herzog who provides us his own footage and diagnostic commentary for Treadwell's bearish obsession, everything else we have of the man comes from Treadwell himself. This includes days and days of footage Treadwell captured of his grizzly companions. Thankfully, Herzog has reduced all this footage to a riveting two hours, which keeps our eyes glued to the screen and our mind racing with anxiety for the man.

In the beginning shot, we see Treadwell sitting, one knee on the ground, in an open Alaskan savannah. There is an adult grizzly bear maybe fifteen feet behind him. Occasionally, he looks back to check the bear's position. But mostly, he is staring straight at the camera - straight at us - and explaining that the bear's name is Mr. Chocolate. I don't see a Mr. Chocolate, though. I see a giant predator with jaws the size of meathooks. I want to scream "watch out" at the TV. But then I know Treadwell is no longer living. The species he loved took his life eventually, yet he still loved them to the end.

You really must see this to believe it. Aside from Chris McCandless' story in "Into The Wild," I have never seen another human being live so far out on the brink of civilization and live long enough to reap both its quiet pleasures and ferocious dangers. From his childhood attachment to teddy bears to his long struggle with drugs and alcohol to his eccentric relationships with female colleagues, Treadwell certainly lived up to the hype. Yet he denied all that, focusing instead on his one mission and life purpose: protecting animals from poachers, pesky tourists, and ignorant bureaucracies.

Personally, I did not find Treadwell likable. In fact, I doubt I would ever want to be his friend. And I'm sure he would feel the same way about me. He comes off as irrational, paranoid, and downright annoying due to his flamboyant behavior and propensity to curse. But I have to think about his situation too. He was alone most of the time. And talking probably quelled that loneliness. No matter how much Treadwell despised much of humanity, he could not rid himself of the fact that he was human and that he longed for human company. Bears can only provide so much communication. The rest was a void he always had trouble filling.

And this is a dilemma central to Herzog's film. Some people Herzog interviewed said that Treadwell wanted to be a bear. To act like them, live like them, and even imitate their movements from time to time. His female friends, while drawn to his flame, still could not fully connect with him. He was.... difficult, they say. Doesn't surprise me. The tapes show it all.

But, like him or not, his sincerity and love for grizzlies - for all animal life - was genuine. The grizzly habitat was a sanctuary and he considered himself a quixotic guardian of their woodland paradise. Herzog makes this pretty clear early on.

"Grizzly Man" covers just about every limit of man's mind. His need for company, his devotion to a cause, his validation of manhood, his passion for the wild, and, yes, the Big Kahuna of them all: is there a God or not? One scene in particular shows Treadwell begging - screaming at the top of his lungs - for God - ("if there is a God or Buddha out there!") - to bring rain for the grizzlies to drink. It becomes a drought for both grizzlies and Treadwell as he yearns for a cosmic answer to pour down. His agony and pain are totally there on screen.

Yes, Treadwell does die. And that is no spoiler. I feel sick just saying the word "spoiler" because here was a real human life that ended. And it is a tragic ending, indeed. Do not worry, though. None of the audio or video footage of Treadwell's death is given in this documentary. It is unnecessary, and I am sure it would haunt our minds forever. Even Herzog, who rarely flinches from the gross or horrifying, is seen listening to Treadwell's death by grizzlies. He is finally cracking, and we are seeing Herzog too as we have never seen him before. A filmmaker humbled. His shaken behavior finally appropriate to the kind tone in which he poses his unorthodox questions. I respect the man even more now.

This is, in conclusion, one of the most intimate and fascinating and respectful character portrayals I have ever seen in a motion picture. Be absorbed by Treadwell's fearless composure. Be repulsed by his sudden, yet morbidly predictable ending. Be enlightened by his love for all animal life - even when it stares indifferently back at him. And be in awe of the grizzlies he lived among and died among.