Grizzly business
A dialogue on Grizzly Man
Mark Broatch: Any commentary on Grizzly Man should probably start on the question of whether this undeniably fascinating doco should have been made at all. Here's a man - Timothy Treadwell - who lives out in the Alaskan wilderness with the grizzly bears for season after season until the inevitable happens. He's clearly disturbed, but Werner Herzog must have decided that a film based on Treadwell's found footage was sufficiently vital to society to set aside questions of exploitation, bad taste and bad hair.
Rob O'Neill: Herzog specialises in disturbed or obsessive characters with bad hair. Woyzek driven to madness, the obsessive Fitzcarraldo, the gold-crazed Conquistador Lope de Aguirre. All of these were played by Klaus Kinski, who also bears a remarkable physical resemblance to Timothy Treadwell. Nosferatu was also, of course, played by Kinski, though he was saved from bad hair through baldness.
The film is vital and Herzog was right to make it. It's also about as unflinching as you can be, which I think is what disturbs people the most.
MB: Clearly the crucial moments are due to a Grizzly - was it Mr Chocolate? - having a bad hair day. Whatever, I wrestled with myself about whether I wanted to hear the audio of the attack. Part of me did; part of me was horrified that I did; part of me was annoyed that Herzog, the dictionary definition of a voyeur, wanted to censor us from it.
Still, utterly compelling. If I have one hesitation, it's about Herzog's vindication of his decision to make the film. He should have let it speak for itself, as it does - with a great big bloody ursine roar.
RO: I think while the film is about Treadwell, it is also about film making. It asks a lot of questions because there are no actors, much of the footage was shot by the subject rather than Herzog and Herzog himself is as much a character in the film as Treadwell. It's Herzog's journey to understand Treadwell that we are watching.
And no, it wasn't Mr Chocolate. He was a big, er, sweetie.
MB: But what of making a film about someone who was, if not mentally ill, then seriously deluded? And his friend didn't seem much more compos mentis.
RO: What of it? He made a film of himself. He courted publicity. There's no doubt he was delusional and even paranoid. But, as the old saying goes, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean the bears are not out to get you.
Sure, watching this film is like watching a train wreck in excruciatingly slow motion. In the end it should have been made because it is extremely powerful. That's enough, isn't it?
So, how many stars?
MB: I hate stars. If you asked oranges it would be three and a half out of five.
RO: Four from me, stars that is, and an orange at half time.
(Film soundbite and NPR review here)
Mark Broatch: Any commentary on Grizzly Man should probably start on the question of whether this undeniably fascinating doco should have been made at all. Here's a man - Timothy Treadwell - who lives out in the Alaskan wilderness with the grizzly bears for season after season until the inevitable happens. He's clearly disturbed, but Werner Herzog must have decided that a film based on Treadwell's found footage was sufficiently vital to society to set aside questions of exploitation, bad taste and bad hair.
Rob O'Neill: Herzog specialises in disturbed or obsessive characters with bad hair. Woyzek driven to madness, the obsessive Fitzcarraldo, the gold-crazed Conquistador Lope de Aguirre. All of these were played by Klaus Kinski, who also bears a remarkable physical resemblance to Timothy Treadwell. Nosferatu was also, of course, played by Kinski, though he was saved from bad hair through baldness.
The film is vital and Herzog was right to make it. It's also about as unflinching as you can be, which I think is what disturbs people the most.
MB: Clearly the crucial moments are due to a Grizzly - was it Mr Chocolate? - having a bad hair day. Whatever, I wrestled with myself about whether I wanted to hear the audio of the attack. Part of me did; part of me was horrified that I did; part of me was annoyed that Herzog, the dictionary definition of a voyeur, wanted to censor us from it.
Still, utterly compelling. If I have one hesitation, it's about Herzog's vindication of his decision to make the film. He should have let it speak for itself, as it does - with a great big bloody ursine roar.
RO: I think while the film is about Treadwell, it is also about film making. It asks a lot of questions because there are no actors, much of the footage was shot by the subject rather than Herzog and Herzog himself is as much a character in the film as Treadwell. It's Herzog's journey to understand Treadwell that we are watching.
And no, it wasn't Mr Chocolate. He was a big, er, sweetie.
MB: But what of making a film about someone who was, if not mentally ill, then seriously deluded? And his friend didn't seem much more compos mentis.
RO: What of it? He made a film of himself. He courted publicity. There's no doubt he was delusional and even paranoid. But, as the old saying goes, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean the bears are not out to get you.
Sure, watching this film is like watching a train wreck in excruciatingly slow motion. In the end it should have been made because it is extremely powerful. That's enough, isn't it?
So, how many stars?
MB: I hate stars. If you asked oranges it would be three and a half out of five.
RO: Four from me, stars that is, and an orange at half time.
(Film soundbite and NPR review here)
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