El hombre oso

I like it when I do know know how to feel! Herzog seems to start out by portraying a man, Timothy Treadwell, as a crazy, self-obsessed (NOT Grizzly-obsessed) individual who gets himself and his girlfriend killed for no purpose, in the Alaskan wilderness. Initially I thought that the story was a cross between 'Jackass' and the Discovery Channel - you have a dopey, though he only sounds like it, blonde surfer type who likes to approach (awfully close) and make sweet-talk with 10-foot bears. Viewers might see Timothy as a reckless, selfish misfit, but as the film continues, your appreciation for his cause deepens - but what is his cause? Is it to work out personal demons? Absolutely. Treadwell clearly has mental/emotional problems, just listen to how many times he tells the wild animals "I love you!" or when he talks about his lack of success with "human women." But his passion for the grizzlies and their wilderness is real. Herzog particularly commends him as a filmmaker, seizing unique opportunities and rendering priceless footage. Do not forget that TT lived close to the bears for 13 years (including the year he was killed) without harm; and that his success, his careful, intuitive, loving behavior was only partly self-aggrandizing.

Anyone who has followed the trajectory of Werner Herzog from the time of "Even Dwarfs Started Small" will understand the immediate appeal that the Treadwell story must have had for this intensely brilliant German director. Treadwell must have seemed to Herzog like a Laguna Beach version of his Fitzcarraldo and his Aguirre and even of Herzog himself in his more unhinged moments. This film appears at first to be a fair minded documentary about Tim Treadwell, the 'protector' of all things natural and wild in the remote regions of Alaska. What Herzog shows us, however, is that what Treadwell really needed protection from was reality itself and that his escape into the wilds was just a deadly game of denial.

The film is also a meditation on the brute force of nature, on art and on human hubris. My wife found the 'character' of Tim Treadwell so ludicrous and offensive that she had to leave the theater. For my part, I was in awe of both Treadwell's incredible physical courage coupled with his absolute lack of judgment and his insane narcissism. He struck me as a cross between Pee-Wee Herman and Marlon Perkins, the guy who narrated the Mutual of Omaha nature documentaries that showed up on Sunday afternoons in the 60's and 70's.

The word is that Hollywood, in the person of Leonardo DiCaprio, was a financial supporter of Treadwell's 'mission'in Alaska and that a Hollywood version of the story is due out sometime soon with Di Caprio playing the lead. I know I won't be going to see that version because it will just continue the lie and the myth that Treadwell tried so hard to create and sustain. Even at his most intense moments of profoundity Treadwell had nothing to 'say' to anyone about either bears or himself. It was all self-serving and self-congratulatory and it is only in his grotesque death at the hands of a rogue grizzly that any meaningful message finally comes across. (Herzog thankfully spares us from the actual experience which was caught on audio but not on video because the lens cap had been left on.)

Its hard not to feel sorry for Tim Treadwell and the young woman who died with him, but the 'native' scientist in the film put it quite nicely "My people have been living nicely with bears for thousands of years and we know enough to stay out of each other's way."

Tim Treadwell wanted desperately to cross the boundary into the 'way' of the bear because the 'way of the human' was too much for him. Despite his goofy, childish demeanor he revealed himself to be a man of deep anger and resentment. However, if the bears had let him live he would probably be considered something of a folk-hero in 'reality' obsessed America.

Herzog shows us that there was nothing real about Treadwell at all and that the bears knew a lot more about him than he ever would of them.

There's no doubt that Timothy Treadwell was insane. Just look at the facts; here was a guy who lived (unarmed) with bears, who referred to himself in the third person (always a sure sign of insanity) and who had a loon for a best friend. But entirely because of that, his story is a fascinating one.

At first, what's so amazing about Treadwell is how camp he is. He has a squeaky little voice, a peculiar obsession with his wispy hair and he's always cooing, "I love you" to his animal 'friends'. It seems remarkable that such a person would survive so long in the wilderness. But fortunately for Treadwell, he's both tough and completely insane. Therefore he has the blind confidence of the deluded – he never really thinks about what he's doing.

Treadwell's lack of real insight is summed up in his life's purpose – he wants to protect the bears. But the forces that he's protecting the bears from are amorphous (poachers and the Park Service). They're never really there. And it's telling that when some strangers finally do turn up, Treadwell can only hide in the bushes and film from afar as the men throw rocks at the bears – he doesn't do much protecting.

But as Treadwell admits, it's more about the bears protecting him. Which, I guess, is ridiculous (and it is), but it's also true. As the film shows us, Treadwell was in all kinds of trouble before he went bear crazy. He lost his scholarship, became a drunk and got involved with criminal elements. Had he kept steering that course, he probably would have wound up getting killed. And although it's darkly comic that his new obsession finally did bring about his death, it did at least provide him with a momentary release.

The film that Treadwell shot is both amusing and sad. It's amusing because Treadwell is such a strange figure, declaring himself a 'kind warrior' and touching bear faeces with an almost orgasmic excitement. But it's sad because Treadwell is so out of touch with reality. For example, he gives all the bears cute little names like 'Mr Chocolate' and 'Rowdy' – he even calls a particularly nasty bear 'The Grinch'. All the time he's trying to humanise them. He desperately wants to be their friend. And although at times Treadwell seems to understand that they're killers, it never truly sinks in that they could kill him. "I will not die at their claws and paws," he says.

Another illuminating moment is when one of his fox friends steals his cap. He seems deeply upset; he seems personally affronted. He just doesn't quite grasp the fact that these are wild animals, that they aren't really his pals. But despite this, Treadwell does capture some wonderful moments on film. There's a fantastic bit where he's in his tent playing with the paws of a fox that come poking through from outside. It's here that you can understand why Treadwell has isolated himself from people. It's innocent moments like this that keep him hanging on to the few marbles he has left rattling about in his brain.

But although Treadwell doesn't really understand nature, Herzog does. In his unmistakable German accent he says he sees no kinship in the bear's eyes: "I only see the overwhelming indifference of nature". Everything between Treadwell and the bears is one sided. The love is only his. To them he's just meat. Or as a helicopter pilot says, maybe the bears just thought he was mentally retarded.

And although the film is a wonderful insight into a crazy mind, and although it's poignant and sad, it's also very funny. And it's some of the peripheral characters who provide the biggest laughs. One moment that sticks in my mind is when Herzog is talking to Treadwell's crazy ex-girlfriend. It could and should have been a moving moment, as Herzog is listening to the tape recording of Treadwell's death, but Treadwell's ex is just so bonkers that I couldn't help but guffaw when she broke into some of the weirdest tears I've ever seen – at first it seems like she's laughing. And then you have Herzog, in his gravest tones, telling her that she must never listen to the tape. And she replies, "I know, Werner." No wonder the scene has been parodied.

And then you have the coroner. He really seems to love the fact that he's in front of the camera and decides to ham it up for everyone. And this actually leads me to my one criticism of the film. There are a few sections that are just too staged – the scene with the watch and the bit in the morgue stand out the most. Herzog is obviously trying to give the film more drama, to break away from the restrictions of a documentary, but the people in the film are over the top enough as it is without them acting it up for the camera. The story really doesn't need any spicing up.

But despite that one criticism, Grizzly Man is a wonderful film. It tells the story of a ridiculous man who probably did more harm that good, but at the same time the story is strangely positive. It offers hope to damaged people. It shows that by finding a purpose in life, you can overcome your problems and find some degree of happiness. I guess the trick is to focus your energies on something less dangerous than man-eating bears.

This film proves what little we already know about wildlife: 99% of the time, it will leave you alone as long as you don't harass it, but the 1% is a differential that ends with you screaming and some guy finding your arm later.

It also proves that we know even less about human nature than we do about bears, as Tim Treadwell is a mystery even to his own species.

It's obvious that he has some kind of disorder or drug-related brain damage, what with his extreme lability of mood, delusions of identity, neurotic and repetitive speech patterns, and general paranoia about the activities of his fellow humans. He knows a lot of interesting people, from his geeky friends who state the mundane as though it is profound ("I don't think he had a death wish at all." "I don't think anyone really deserves to be eaten alive by a bear."), to the Friend/Actor who is not even believable when portraying himself, to his very ordinary parents who are just as confused by him as we are.

In this film, we learn that Treadwell switches addictions from alcohol to bears, and descends into functional madness while attempting to integrate himself into their "secret, inner world." He is paradoxical throughout, both disliking humans and yearning for a love relationship, being fully aware of the dangers that the bears pose, but doing nothing to protect himself from them. (Well, he is fatalistic in his devotion to them, but seems to think that they will not harm him as long as he behaves properly around them. That an older, aggressive bear could become hunger-crazed enough to attack him indiscriminately seems beyond his scope.) At times he shows a thorough understanding of animal behavior and the natural world, at other times a grand ignorance of the reality of life in the wilderness. He seems forever stymied trying to enforce human concepts like justice and righteousness upon the jungle. His sentimentality with the bears and perceived relationships there show in stark relief when the animals display constant indifference or even aggression, and when it is clear that some near-altercation with them has occurred off-camera.

In the end, he is really no more successful with bears than he is with people, understanding the basic rules but never seeing the whole picture in clarity enough to know how to avoid crashing and burning.

Perhaps most indicative of his dysfunction is how he responds to the fond relationship he develops with the foxes, who actively play with him and seek his company and interaction. While he loves them, they are but a footnote on his path to destruction; he prefers the ambiguous and imagined affection from the dangerous bears, to the foxes' genuine displays of it.

"Grizzly Man" is not about a man at all; it is a sad, true story about a wayward being without a species.

On this journey, the audience meets a lot of bears that look alike but who we know were distinct to Treadwell, a creepy coroner who is probably not acting, and a slew of observers who all have their own biased and often badly distorted views of "what really happened." In the creamy middle is the quirky pilot who knew Treadwell best, and the director himself, the voice of reason in this well-crafted work.

The moral: Van Halen was right. "It's business as usual in the woods." Animals make sense; it's people that don't.

Herzog's "Grizzly Man" is a miraculous documentary. He started by collecting hundreds of hours of video tape shot by the movie's subject, Timothy Treadwell. The director then culls through the footage and assembles a fascinating portrait of this uniquely bold (and clearly troubled) human being: Treadwell spent 13 summers living amongst grizzly bears in the wilds of Alaska, before being killed by one in the summer of 2003.

Treadwell's footage is gorgeous, and at times heart-stopping: a grizzly battle caught on tape is the stuff Animal Planet would kill for. But the footage goes beyond simply revealing the harsh yet beautiful reality of the Alaskan wilderness. The camera soon becomes a silent confidant to Treadwell's self-obsessed confessions. For one, he sees himself as the singular savior of the wildlife preserve he camps at and the creatures that reside there. But he also sees himself becoming increasingly less connected to the real world he lives in 9 months out of the year. The footage here is most poignant, revealing Treadwell's inner struggles. It paints a picture of a lonely man searching, perhaps desperately, for purpose in a world he feels has rejected him. Most eerily prescient are Treadwell's repeated remarks about how he would die for the bears, though his eventual death does not appear to be the martyrdom he so clearly sought.

This is where the film is most riveting - in Treadwell's footage, focused on the man, the bears, and the force of nature around them. Less compelling are Herzog's talking head interviews with Treadwell's friends and family - although they do help to solve (as much as possible) the puzzle of where Timothy came from, what lead him to the bears, and why he was killed.

It would not be a Herzog film with the director's own philosophical palette framing the story. Herzog's commentary reveals his longstanding view that nature is cruel and that chaos is the constant in our life experience, not harmony. That Treadwell saw beauty and soul in the bears seems to be beside the point, since ultimately their need for sustenance made them turn on their self-appointed protector.