Fata Morgana

As one other IMDb reviewer puts it, "...imagine 2001: A Space Odyssey in the desert" and you wouldn't be far off from a brief summarisation of what to expect from this piece of cinema (I deeply hesitate to use the word "film"). A lecture on philosophical views on creationism, the mythos surrounding humanities existence, the before and after, that was has been, the what is and the what will be. This for some maybe a "2001" on sand, but they tackle different philosophical viewpoints, one about evolution and the future, the hope and potential for mankind, while Fata Morgana itself is a somewhat more metaphysical trek. I only hope I can convey it effectively enough.

Herzogs style will not to be everyones liking, and those who are not of a perceived hardcore branch of cinematic viewing may, and most likely will, find this extremely hard going, and may not even see it through to its finale after 72 minutes. Fusing together a montage of footage from the Sahara, including villages, villagers and various other places for a somewhat surrealist ending, music of various genres and an almost mythical narration, Fata Morgana is severely slow paced but ultimately hugely rewarding.

Opening with a montage of various filmed shots of planes landing for nigh on five minutes, you already arrival at the introduction of the film immensely confused, and the sense that this will not be like anything you have seen before echoes clear in your mind. Divided into three sections, creation, paradise and the golden age, Fata Morgana attempts, and succeeds, in being able to juxtapose images of the natural beauty of the desert with the man made instruments that taint it. Its three segments are narrated by different persons each pertaining specifically to the particular section they are voicing and provide extra emphasis on the long soliloquy's and desert montages.

Fata Morgana is a film dealing with the existence of man on our Earth. It looks at the natural beauty the Earth was designed for, and concurrently looking at the potential beauty we have within us, more notably shows us our negative contributions to the world in which we live. Each shot has been purposefully constructed, using what can only be described within the context of this film as 'The Holy Trinity Of Filming' in pictures, words and music. Each part of these three pieces provides something notably to each shot, but when brought together they create something greater than the whole of their parts, they create unbridled beauty and deep thought within our minds. I will not be able to do this film the justice it deserves with mere words alone, perhaps if I had pictures and a score, and I do know this will not be appreciated by the masses, but this a profound and I will not use the term "art film" because this is simply just art. This is moving art which moves the mind and stirs the soul. Whether or not creationism is your want is irrelevant, because this film is about intelligent design.

You will be able to tell within the first 30 seconds of this film whether you want to finish watching it. The film opens with images of planes landing at an airport, one plane after another diving into a mirage-filled runway. You will be able to accurately guess that this movie is not about a "story." At first viewing, it's even easy to think the opening images are repetitive shots of the same plane. The initial drama is in the acuteness of your perception, which is built on your willingness to experience the film simply as a series of images. If after this opening, you want to see the movie, you will not be bored. You may even be mesmerized. The movie may be an emotional experience; it may be an intellectual experience; it may be both. Judging from the DVD commentary, which is essential, it was primarily an emotional experience for Herzog, and, at one point, he talks explicitly about how the film is a collaboration between filmmaker and viewer. There's plenty of room for the viewer to make of this film exactly what he or she wants to make of it. Take a gamble?

Inarguably one of the most interesting filmmakers of the last 50 years, Werner Herzog has been pushing the boundaries of cinema perhaps more so than any other commercial filmmaker. I've been acquainted with Herzog for a few decades now and I've never not been impressed by both the man and his work. Last year I went to see Rescue Dawn and was somewhat surprised at how relatively mainstream the film was, yet couldn't help but imagine Herzog taking his actors and crew into the actual jungle to not only make the film, but to live it. No other filmmaker is as crazed about the purity of the film-making process and the subsequent lore from such productions as Fitzcarraldo has been forged into cinematic legend.

Today I sat down to Fata Morgana, a 1969 Herzog film that could be described as an allegorical filmic postcard. Without researching the actual locations, I'm assuming it was shot somewhere in Africa, both coastal and desert, a region that could have once been the cradle of infant man, infant civilization, infant life on earth. It is these origins, the biblical notion of the Garden of Eden and the Apocalypse that Herzog is concerned with, as is voiced by the narration dispensed throughout the 79 minute run time.

Watching FM I couldn't help but feel I was a passenger on a profound journey. In the opening sequence, the title is translated as "Mirage" and Herzog juxtaposes this translation with multiple repetitions of commercial jets landing on an airstrip. These images are perverted, their 3-dimensionality crushed flat by a long lens, piling layers of exhaust, heat waves and light aberrations all on top of one another. The effect left me to conclude: things are not as they seem.

FM is divided into 3 very distinct chapters: 1) Creation, 2) Paradise and 3) The Golden Age. Chapter One, opens with countless, languid images, where bleak, barren landscapes scroll by, dead animals rot, broken shells of crashed airplanes and abandoned cars slowly disintegrate in the desert sun. The people populating this inhospitable landscape are ragged, unsmiling and apparent prisoners of the desert. The narration talks of a time before life, a time where the canvas of earth was blank and all that existed were the heavens. While the narration hearkens to a simpler, purer era, a portrait of a young boy holding a fox-like animal by its throat evokes a chilling depiction of man's cruel, ruthless attempt to enforce a dominion over nature.

In the next chapter we are introduced to more of the same, yet the images and people are more animated and seem infused with a modicum of life and vitality. We listen to a goggled biologist talk about the difficultly a monitor lizard has hunting for prey in such a lifeless environment. As he holds the squirming monitor, its tongue flicking at flies, he also describes how difficult it to capture these creatures in the searing 140 degree heat. The parallel is duly noted and Herzog continues to explore this concept through repeated, candid portraits of individuals battered by the sun, the desert and the laborious efforts required to exist in this harsh realm. He also pushes forward the theme that if not in control, man asserts his control over his environment and not always in the most pleasant of ways.

The last chapter takes us out of the desert's blast furnace and into the more familiar Herzog territory populated by eccentrics and absurd behavior. No one seems to have a more effective symbiotic relationship with the oddballs of the world than Herzog -- possibly this is where he feels most at home. Much like Errol Morris, Herzog chooses to place his camera in as seemingly objective a position as he can before he lets the film roll. The subsequent flirtation Herzog has with his subject is the result of him being able to continue shooting well beyond the point when most directors would have yelled cut. As Morris does, this extended roll pushes past the "on" moment the subjects feel obliged to offer and through their discomfort of being pushed into overtime, their facade gives way to something real. The most humorous portrait in this chapter is of the 2 person band playing an odd, polka-like song that Herzog recycles throughout this chapter. The drummer of the band wears the same goggles as the biologist, as does another guy doing a magic trick, begging the question: what's with the goggles? They definitely add some levity to the film, but one has to wonder if they hold any deeper meaning or significance, or is this just another example of Herzog's playfullness.

The narration aside, Herzog utilizes folk and blues music as the experimental documentary's soundtrack. Leonard Cohen grabs the most screen time, two of his beautifully melancholic songs "So Long Marianne" and "Suzanne." perfectly accompany the scrolling landscapes, adding to the convincing feel that we are truly along for the ride. By the end of the journey, Herzog comes back to one of the many shots that recur throughout the film: the distant framing of a lone vehicle traversing the endless desert engulfed by a water mirage that fills the horizon. Despite the overall bleakness of FM, the crescendo of the film and the mirage motif leave you with a hopeful spirit, belief that against all odds, life will persevere and possibly even flourish.

Having finished writing this post, I referenced FM to discover that Herzog shot it in Saharan Cameroon only weeks after a bloody coup. True to his legend, Herzog and his crew were arrested, beaten and imprisoned. While imprisoned, Herzog fell ill with Schistosomiasis, a blood parasite. It's truly hard not to love such a hypnotic and austere film as Fata Morgana; knowing the filmmaker was willing to die to get it made only makes you respect it all the more.

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I saw FATA MORGANA at its US premiere in 1972 and again in 1975. The film remained in my (inexact) memory as possible model or prototype of the "surreal documentary", and I think I had recollections of Herzog's long pans and tracking shots in a back chamber of my mind while filming material in the Dolomites that I later combined with manipulated WWI footage in my own audio-visual work GEBIRGSKRIEGSPROJEKT. Having lived in Austria for 17 years and now being fluent in the language of FATA MORGANA's narration, I was eagerly looking forward to re-encountering the film on DVD.

Unfortunately, I have to admit that I was rather disappointed. The terms of my reaction are largely defined by Werner Herzog's own commentary on the German DVD. That he wanted to make a documentary as if from the point of view of visitors from another galaxy is a good idea and a commendable ambition, but I think the hypothetical visitors from Andromeda would have arrived with a far more anthropologically organized structure of viewing than what Herzog here presents. It would however be unfair to call the film pretentious: it's just not that well thought out. There are indeed some strong images (not only those of the desert mirages ...) that could have been used effectively as expanding material in a more narratively oriented film, or served as basis for a more "experimental" work, such as those of Stan Brakhage (who Herzog professes to admire), but these images are too often weakened by sloppy camera movement or flaccid editing.

I found the use of heterogeneous music (Blind Faith, Leonard Cohen, the Kyrie from one of Mozart's masses) arbitrary and unconvincing. Chance-derived juxtapositions are stimulating now and then, but this is no well-thought-out dialectically surreal counterpoint of image and sound that could really cut into the eye and ear.

Some sequences in the later part of the film (a foreign aid worker having African children recite "der Blitzkrieg ist Wahnsinn", or a scene where German tourists hop up and down in little volcanic craters on Lanzarote) lapse into the ridiculous and unfortunately retrospectively lower the level of what came before.

BUT Werner Herzog is a great filmmaker who has in other works made immense contributions to his art. FATA MORGANA may be one of his weaker films, but I suspect it was essential to his development. I'ts a pleasure and a challenge to view and to think about this film.

Famed filmmaker Werner Herzog's "Fata Morgana" is breathtakingly unorthodox. Although characters appear in the film from time to time, there is no actual story. The film is also not an educational or historical documentary. It's a film without an accompanying screenplay.

The film consists of curious background music and a somewhat illogical narrative VO, the combination of which overlays a long string of images from mostly, though not exclusively, the Sahara Desert. Some of the images are wonderfully odd, and out of the ordinary. The camera captures ghostly images, or mirages, optical illusions that tantalize and mesmerize.

This general cinematic trend is punctuated by occasional observational asides on serendipitous topics. For example, in one sequence a man wearing goggles gives us a mini-tutorial on lizards. And in what for me was the most captivating and bizarre sequence, a small inset room contains a man with dark goggles who sings in a voice that is totally distorted by the microphone he's using, accompanied by an old lady who plays a punchy tune on an old piano. Neither the man nor the old lady seems to enjoy what they're doing. How baroque.

"Fata Morgana" does have an underlying concept, one that unites the wide assortment of strange images and eclectic sounds. But that concept is so subtle, so opaque that you'll never figure it out without help. From this subtle theme the film does indeed make sense. Without that point of reference, however, the film can seem tedious and unending, a pointless parade of random earthy images and esoteric narrative gibberish.

Unapologetically redundant, thematically baffling, and cinematically heretical, "Fata Morgana" will likely either make you swoon with delight, or cause you to throw up. You'll either latch on to the film's Zen-like qualities or be tempted to smash the DVD into a thousand pieces. One thing that most viewers will agree on: "Fata Morgana" is ... different.