La grande extase du sculpteur sur bois Steiner

The Great Ecstasy of Woodcarver Steiner is a very strange sports documentary. Perhaps this comes as no surprise when you consider its director is Werner Herzog, a man who tends to focus on unpredictable aspects in his films. It's about the champion Swiss ski-jumper Walter Steiner, specifically his appearance at a competition in Yugoslavia in 1974, where he easily breaks the world record. The approach that Herzog takes differs from most sports biographies in that it doesn't really profile Steiner in a traditional sense. Other than the fact that he is a woodcarver by trade, we don't learn anything about his personal life or his ascent in his chosen sport. Instead the film uses him to explore a more abstract set of ideas, specifically the idea that ski jumpers experience an almost bliss-like state as they fly through the air. The very obvious danger the sport presents the athletes every time they descend down the slope makes the competitors unusual in that they effectively confront the possibility of death each time they compete. Anyone who doubts this only has to watch the incredible and disturbing shots of skiers crash landing in a most brutal manner. And it struck me towards the end that these guys are not even wearing helmets! Many times we see heads battering off the slope and it really makes you shudder to think how many must've died as a direct consequence of having no protective headgear; this shows the advances in safety measures over the subsequent years.

The film is probably best remembered for the incredible slow motion footage of the jumpers captured on special high-speed cameras. Herzog quite successfully captures the otherworldly aspect of this activity by this ultra-slowed down imagery accompanied by the extremely evocative music by Popul Vuh; these moments transcend typical sports documentary footage and do tap into something more mysterious. On a more basic level, there are several times when Steiner openly talks about his fears. Specifically the way the organisers callously encourage extremely dangerous acts by raising the ramp to increasingly high levels. This naturally brings large crowds and media attention – both of whom will no doubt have elements of whom will secretly crave seeing terrible accidents. It really looks into the darker side of why people turn up to watch certain dangerous sporting events. Steiner is so much better than the competition that he genuinely fears the possibility of jumping too far and killing himself on the flat at the bottom. He ends up voluntarily starting further down the ramp to shorten his overall distance. Towards the end of the film he tells a story about his childhood when his only friend was a raven he had nursed back to health. They formed an almost embarrassed friendship culminating with him having to kill the bird in order to save it from repeat savage attacks from its fellow ravens which had that turned against it. It's a story that mirrors Steiner the flier's experience and how alone he must have felt as he travelled at speed towards the bloodthirsty crowd of his own kind for the umpteenth time.

This starts out looking like a more or less standard TV documentary about a ski-jumper. Over time, however, it somehow gets stranger and stranger, until the ending, that somehow, incomprehensibly, left me totally out of breath.

The film works on so many levels: It's a fascinating portrayal of the celebrated ski-jumper Steiner, but it's also an amazing look at the plain aesthetics of ski-jumping, with extreme slow-motion pictures showing the jumpers' fears and ecstasy at a very profound level. In addition, there is also something in this film that's simply very hard or impossible to define, something about man itself, something about longing and - perhaps the most advanced of human emotions - pity.

How much of this portrayal that actually reflects Steiner's personality, and how much of it that reflects Herzog's, is hard to tell. But that's the only catch. Those looking for Herzog classics should not think that this movie can be missed because it's a 45-minute TV documentary. Apart from pictures of some nasty ski-jumping falls, it's not really disturbing to the extent that put me slightly off when watching for example Aguirre and Even Dwarfs Started Small - so it could from my point of view overall be the best of the many Herzog movies I've seen so far.

It is necessary a great filmmaker to transform a simple sport in something interesting and fascinating.This 45 minutes documentary show us that it is possible!. HERZOG acts as a witness leaving STEINER do the entire work becoming a bird and talking freely about his fears. One the most amazing moments is when STEINER tell us a certain story that happened when he was a child,pure poetry in complete resonance with the film as a whole. In other moments ,the camera captures in a thrilling way all the danger involved in ski-jumping. STEINER made a small appearance in other HERZOG'S masterpiece, KASPAR HAUSER. Where is STEINER now?. I have read in internet that he lives in a small village in Sweden and works as a Gardener.

If, like me, you think documentaries are the runt of the cinematic crown, a lazy option, an unimaginative, dreary response to life, a mendaciously arrogant appropriation of 'truth', than this film might make you see other possibilities in the form. Where documentaries are generally concerned with the 'real', what can be seen, evaluated, and understood, Herzog aims for nothing less than a representation of the sublime. And, as so often, he comes very close.

Walter Steiner is a typical Herzog hero. He carves wood sculptures from ideas that sound suspiciously Herzogian. He tells fable-like stories about his youth, an example of the subject appropriating the language of an all-interpreting creator (Herzog). He is both artist and storyteller. His great gift, however, is in sport, a milieu of order and repetition seemingly alien to Herzog's epic dreams of convention-busting.

Steiner is a ski-jumper. He skis down high slopes, and then just flies over huge distances. He is frequently heard complaining that the slopes are put too high, that he is in danger of jumping too far and killing himself,. This, of course, is why Herzog thinks he is less a mere sportsman, than an exalted attitude to death. He is frequently compared to birds - he is someone who can fly, escape the mundane, transcend the everyday to another spirit level altogether. The very orgasmic brevity of the act makes it all the more precious.

In the act of filming, Herzog appropriates this Wagnerian achievement for himself. By ignoring straight narrative, character, and concentrating on the exquisite moment; by bending, reshaping, slowing down time to elongate the sublime; Herzog goes beyond simple observation to enter new realms of experience. Although there are uncomfortable echoes of Leni Riefenstahl's mountain films, the photography in this film is unparalleled in modern cinema, with the dazzling white vast slopes all mere props for the ecstatic revelation of Steiner's art, this melding of two realms, our human, worldly level, and the mystical unknown.

This kind of Teutonic postering is not usually to my taste, but there are many pleasing more earthy moments, especially the sight of Herzog, cinema's great visionary scuttling around like a nerdy sports fan with ABC and all the other world media. Now there's a sight I never thought I'd see.

The best of Herzog's shorts, this film documents the mysterious soaring Walter Steiner as he destroys the world ski-flying record in 1974 Yugoslavia.

To be fair, this is not really a documentary about Steiner, the Swiss woodcarver and ski-flyer, nor the sport in general, nor the competition and breaking off the world record, but something more intense and esoteric -- a poem of obsession, ecstasy and escape.

This mesmerizing piece (set to an airy Popol Vuh soundtrack) is marred only by repetitive shots of ski-jump accidents, Herzog's inserting himself into several shots and his unnecessary and clumsy closing line.