force of nature
by
Douglas Messerli
Werner
Herzog (writer and director) Woyzeck /
1979
Although Georg Büchner’s 1836 play Woyzeck
(not published until 1879) has been performed numerous times since its 1911
premiere, there is still no one consistent version of the play, although one
might well argue that Werner Herzog’s film of 1979 is as coherent as any. For
Herzog, Woyzeck, although clearly almost mentally retarded, is also a deep, if
easily confused, philosopher, trying to comprehend his demeaned position in the
universe while also being sensitive the frightening natural signs and omens
only he is able to hear and interpret.
Yes, this Woyzeck, like the character often
presented on stage, is maltreated by the surrounding society, tortured by his
military superiors for his slightly deranged appearance (who else by Klaus Kinski
could look out at the world with such a totally mad stare?); scolded by the
local captain for his constantly hurried activities and his inability—as the
commandant has perfected—to congratulate himself as a “good” man; and
experimented upon the local doctor, a perverted quack determined to theorize
his paid patient into madness, in part by insisting that he live on a diet of
only peas! Yet Kinski’s Woyzeck somehow seems to good-naturedly put up with all
of this. Rather than suffering primarily from the societal and political
inequities of his life, Kinski’s Woyzeck seems more terrorized by the
metaphysical rumblings that come from within.
As a man of nature, Woyzeck, in Herzog’s
telling, is forced to stand up for himself in a world that is utterly self-controlled—revealed
in the film’s beautiful images of the small town in which the events take
place—and, equally, thoroughly boring. Woyzeck’s problems, and our fascination
with him, emanate from the fact that he cannot control anything; not only is he
hardly able to pay for food and rent, but has no control of his temperament and
body. Racing through the streets like a mad hatter, peeing in public against the
town’s edifices, hurrying through the activities he is forced to undertake
(including a terrifyingly speedy application of a knife to throat and face as
he shaves the captain), diving in and out of his own home to report his
whereabouts to his wife and young son, Woyzeck is unrestrained, a born romantic
locked into a petty bourgeoisie community of 17th century propriety
and reason. We know from the beginning that it is only a matter of time before
these two forces come crashing in upon one another.
The only ones who seem to calm Woyzeck,
and clearly the only things of which this nearly hallow being is proud, is his
beautiful wife (Eva Mattes) and his son. The only time he does not rush about,
his eyes nearly popping from his head, is on a weekend stroll and entertainment
in the town square, with his babe in arms and beautiful wife striding quietly
beside him.
We already know that she is an unredeemed
whore, but Woyzeck seems either not to care or oblivious to the fact. Rather,
he is proud of his little family whom he does his best to support. Marie, it is
clear, is also a creature of nature, but in her case, in fits all too well
within the structures of this hypocritical community. Marie is smitten with the
most pompous of the local folk, the local Drum Major (Josef Bierbichler), an
overdressed, high-strutting ass of a man, who is only to ready to take over of
the most beautiful in town; stealing her from her husband out from under his
gentle gaze of adoration, the dazzling monster might almost be described as
raping her, if it were not for the fact that she somewhat passively accepts his
actions.
It is only days later, when both the
doctor and captain come together in discussion and, encountering Woyzeck along
the way and teasing him about his wife’s improprieties, does he apparently
realize that has been cuckolded. Rushing home, Woyzeck attempts to observe some
evidence of his wife’s infidelity, as if cheating and lying must be visible to
the eye. He cannot comprehend that his world is unnatural one, a world that
does not reveal what it is but hides it, covers its truths over just as have
the captain and doctor attempted to qualm and theorize their way out from their
horrible actions. The captain insists that he has become a military man to prove
that he is good. The doctor sees the entire world as representing proof of what
quack theory that enters his mind.
But the foolish Woyzeck, more of a real
man of science than either of these men, must see evidence, which soon after he
discovers by watching his wife vigorously dancing in the arms of the Drum Major
in a local wine hall.
The madness that Woyzeck has feared all
along descends upon him, and, just as Marie cannot resist her nature, so
Woyzeck cannot resist his madness, buying a knife from the local Jew in order
to kill the only being he loves. The murder, although totally brutal, is
presented by Herzog in restrained operatic conventions: we see only the blood,
which, like Macbeth’s wife, Woyzeck cannot wash away from his body, drowning in
the lake as he attempts to do so.
Since this Woyzeck is tortured less by
mankind than by his very nature, there is no need to suggest a trial, which, in
any event, is a scene that Büchner never completed and, perhaps, never even
intended. In Herzog’s vision this desolate little community should never be
able to judge the man from another time and place. Rather, let them take their
joy in the event, the most exciting thing that they might ever have
experienced.
Los Angeles,
October 4, 2015
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