There are few films more infamous thanWerner Herzog's Fitzcarraldo. The brainchild of cinema’s most renegade filmmaker, Fitzcarraldo was intended to be a modern epic unlike anything that had previously been attempted… and unlike most directors who proclaim such bold intentions, Herzog followed through on his word. The film tells the story of Brian Sweeney Fitzgerald (Klaus Kinski), a rubber baron who is determined to transport a steamship through a mountainous region of the Peruvian rainforests, and Herzog’s devotion to authenticity quickly resulted in a production fueled with as much irrational desire as its protagonist.
The litany of problems the cast and crew had to endure (which included multiple deaths, two plane crashes, and even a minor war with the indigenous population) saw Fitzcarraldo become the stuff of legend before it had even reached theatres, and its subsequent glowing reception that saw Herzog winning the award for Best Director at the 1982 Cannes Film Festival cemented it as a defining (albeit controversial) piece of arthouse cinema. Forty years on, it remains the most polarizing film of Herzog’s career – for very, very, good reason.
RELATED: Behind the Scenes: 10 Great Films About Filmmaking That Aren't ENTOURAGE
'Fitzcarraldo' Was in Jeopardy From Day One
Perhaps the most surprising aspect of Fitzcarraldo is that, despite boasting such a fantastical story, it actually has its roots in historical fact. Carlos Fitzcarrald may not have been quite as megalomaniac as the character he would later inspire, but he was still a power-hungry rubber baron who supervised the transit of a steamship from one treacherous region of Madre de Dios to another. However, while the real Fitzcarrald’s ship weighed only 32 tons and was disassembled prior to being moved, Herzog’s creation took things to another level of madness with a 320-ton behemoth that would be transported all at once. Considering Herzog has always prioritized evocative imagery in his films, it’s no surprise that his tale of deluded passion would amp up the visual gravitas to better illustrate its thematic core. What is surprising, however, is that he was able to realize this through entirely practical means – borderline unbelievable, in fact. But the word ‘unbelievable’ has never been part of Herzog’s lexicon, allowing him to transform Fitzcarraldo into one of the most enthralling cinematic experiences of your life.
But the line between genius and insanity is a thin one (separated only by success and failure as the saying goes), and Herzog’s commitment to delivering the best film he could resulted in a hellish production beaten only by Apocalypse Now (an apt comparison given how much overlap they share). And just like with Francis Ford Coppola’s masterwork, location proved to be the source of most problems – in this case, even before a second had been shot. Herzog insisted on shooting Fitzcarraldo in the heart of the Peruvian rainforests, but finding an acceptable locale proved difficult. His first choice was deemed unusable due to a border war between Peru and Ecuador, and efforts to find a replacement were hindered by how impenetrable the region was. The only location that would suit his particular needs (one with two parallel rivers that come within touching distance, thus allowing for the transportation of a steamship) was hundreds of miles from the nearest city, and accessible only by plane or boat. It wasn’t perfect, but if it was the only way he could achieve the impossible, then Herzog would make it work.
However, this was only the start of his problems. The remoteness of the set prevented easy access back and forth, forcing the crew to live in a makeshift village with only limited food and medical supplies. Having to contend with such an inhospitable environment for months on end would drive anyone to their breaking point – even more so after witnessing two plane crashes that saw five members of the team injured and another paralyzed (no wonder Herzog packed the crew full of prostitutes in a desperate attempt to keep people happy). Even on the ground, things were no safer. One crew member was bitten by a poisonous snake and forced to amputate their leg with a chainsaw, while the film’s cinematographer, Thomas Mauch, had to undergo hours of improvised surgery after tearing apart his hand (all without anesthetic). Tensions were high, with Herzog taking the brunt of their anger. “No one’s on my side anymore”, he reflected after months of bitter filming. “Not one single person”.
Klaus Kinski Was Beyond Difficult to Work With
But the location was far from the only hurdle Fitzcarraldo had to overcome. Filming originally began with Jason Robards in the lead, but he was forced to drop out some ways into production after contracting dysentery. The film was almost halfway done by this point, and it took all the convincing in the world for the producers to inject yet more cash into the project to keep it afloat (although it didn’t come quick enough to stop Mick Jagger, who had been set to play Fitzgerald’s assistant, from also leaving due to prior commitments). Eventually shooting restarted right back at page one, only this time with Herzog regular Klaus Kinski in the role. The two had previously enjoyed great critical success with films like Aguirre, the Wrath of God and Nosferatu the Vampyre, but their turbulent relationship that veered on hate far more than love had made them the most notorious director-actor partnership in film. Considering that Aguirre – their last collaboration in the Peruvian rainforests – had seen Herzog holding Kinski at gunpoint to stop him from jeopardizing his shoot, it was hard to see how Fitzcarraldo could be worse.
And yet, Fitzcarraldo was their worst team-up by far. Kinski’s volatile behavior and incessant complaining over relatively minor issues earned him the ire of the entire crew – specifically the indigenous extras who almost immediately turned hostile towards him. Herzog later recounted that the chief of a native tribe offered in all seriousness to kill Kinski for him, but he declined lest he be forced to start the whole film over again. This environment of paranoia comes through in Kinski’s performance – a whirlwind of explosive madness that fits Brian Sweeney Fitzgerald like a glove – but it's worth remembering the hardships he forced the crew to endure, most of whom had been on set far longer than him.
Herzog Was Committed To Transporting the Steamship Without Special Effects
And still the problems continued. Amidst one of the driest summers in recent history, a neighboring Amahuaca tribe raided the film’s camp, leaving one person with an arrow struck through their neck and another with one in their stomach (requiring eights hours of surgery on a kitchen table, during which Herzog continually sprayed insect repellent into the air to keep mosquitoes away). Mercifully, both survived. In retaliation, the indigenous tribespeople working on the film planned their own attack, but Herzog persuaded them otherwise as it “wouldn’t play very well in the international press”. Most tragic of all were the multiple deaths that occurred during production – one from a tribesman who drowned after borrowing a canoe without permission, and others who succumbed to disease. How much responsibility Herzog had in their deaths remains a point of contention, but it’s clear that the increasing calamity that was Fitzcarraldo had taken its toll on him. “I shouldn’t make movies anymore” he admitted. “I should go to a lunatic asylum”.
Keep in mind, all of this is before we’ve got to the task that had given life to Fitzcarraldo in the first place – how to transport a 320-ton steamship up a 40-degree slope in one of the most dangerous locations on the planet. Right from day one, Herzog resisted any compromise to this monumental task. There was a time when 20th Century Fox was in discussions to produce the film, but this proposal crumbled to dust after Herzog rejected their idea of using plastic models and shooting the sequence on a studio backlot. After securing the necessary financing, Herzog set to work conquering the unconquerable – inadvertently becoming just as consumed with blind obsession as his character. It took years, but with the combined efforts of hundreds of extras and an elaborate pulley system courtesy of a Brazilian engineer (who later quit the film after Herzog ignored his pleas that it would likely break, claiming dozens of lives in the process), Herzog achieved the impossible – and what a spectacle it is… if you can ignore what it took to get there, that is.
Fitzcarraldo Is a Difficult Film to Watch (But Also a Very Powerful One)
There’s a reason why Fitzcarraldo is one of the most controversial films ever made. On the one hand, it contains some of the most awe-inspiring filmmaking ever to grace the silver screen, with moments of such overwhelming beauty it’s hard to believe that what you’re watching is actually real. On the other hand, the horrendous nature of its production that left a few people dead and countless more injured (and that’s not even considering the mental toil such an ordeal would have left) casts the film under a heavy shadow that taints the whole experience. There’s no excuse for what happened behind the scenes, but since plenty of critics have defended Herzog with the argument that a more conventional shoot would never have replicated the grandeur that makes Fitzcarraldo so impactful (whilst also perfectly mirroring the oversized ego of its protagonist), it makes for a complicated debate.
Either way, there’s no questioning Fitzcarraldo’s legacy – for Herzog, Kinski, and cinema in general. It’s one of the few films that’s impossible to discuss without first embarking on your own lengthy undertaking about its tortuous production, and most people who watch it today will likely do so out of sheer morbid curiosity – eager to find out if what Herzog came back with was worth the pain. No wonder 1982’s Burden of Dreams – previously just a simple making-of documentary – is now regarded as its direct companion, and anyone brave enough to learn more about Fitzcarraldo’s development could definitely seek it out. If it wasn’t for Burden of Dreams, it would be easy to mistake the legends behind Fitzcarraldo as the latest mad ramblings of a director who’s always seemed like he’s just clawed his way out of a Brothers Grimm folktale. But it really did happen. That and so much more. Even with proof, it’s still hard to believe.
