Klaus Kinski. Actor. Madman. Friend. Fiend. All apply, apparently. Werner Herzog’s documentary on how he came to know the man when Herzog was boarding with his mother as a child in a low-rent flat in Munich, saw Kinski’s quite identifiable batshit insane antics even then, and still chose to make five batshit insane movies with him over the years. Well, we’ll say four and Nosferatu the Vampyre, which was a rather surprisingly straight take on the Count Dracula tale. Surprising in it mildness, considering their other works and general history.
I can’t say I knew much about Kinski. From the roles I’ve seen him in, I would say the man is...unstable. Werner Herzog’s 2022 memoir and this documentary basically confirms that. I wonder what drugs they would prescribe to Kinski today, and under what diagnosis? I imagine a lot of little magic helpers, to soothe the beast within. I would say Fortunately for him, Kinski knocked off in 1991, burned out rather than to fade away, and didn’t even have to contemplate the Pharmaceutical Cockenings that haunts us all now.
Interesting snapshot here of the love-hate relationship between Herzog and Kinski. Both men making bold creative works through their own methods, and collaborating on a few that kinda shake your head like a German Maraca. Stunning results in most cases. But ultimately, this is a documentary so must be considered as such, told from one perspective. However, ss bad of a reputation Kinski had for working with, Herzog does highlight his better points too. In no way balancing the two out, but at least Kinski did actually have his ego. Uh, I mean, good side. Kinda. The bastard could perform though, demented dude that he was. Watch Aguirre and Fitzcarraldo. Again, if necessary. Truly mesmerizing. But yeah, there’s a price for that level of unfiltered and unbridled expression.
