Two Expansive Movies

One great film I saw recently was Man on Wire (James Marsh, 2008), a lyrical documentary about French high wire walker Phillipe Petit, who stunned the world at age 24 with his death-defying walk between the World Trade Center Towers on August 7, 1974. A death-defying film as well, this absorbing movie is unforgettable. Between the back story of the complex plan that went into the stunt, the counter story of Petit's relationship with his girlfriend, Annie, and, most of all, the vertiginous and miraculous images of the walk, this film has instantly become one of my all time favorites. He crossed the wire eight times and even lay down on it. The story is inspiring; it proves that even the craziest dreams are attainable and may indeed result in works of great genius. Though it would seem self-destructive, Petit insists his walks are not reckless ventures and are planned in great detail, a result of years of training. Rather than being depressing (due to extensive footage of The Towers) the film remains light and buoyant, and by not mentioning the Towers destruction or Petit's reaction to that event, becomes a graceful and appropriate memorial.

Petit, who is almost sixty years old now, has survived his many walks on the high wire (including 500 arrests, mostly for street juggling). He lives outside Woodstock, New York, where he has been working on a hand-built performance barn for roughly 15 years, using 18th century tools. He is also the author of the autobiography, To Reach the Clouds: My High Wire Walk Between the Twin Towers.


Perhaps it's not surprising that Petit is a friend of Werner Herzog's, which brings me to great film number two: Encounters At The End of the World (2008) by the master himself. The tag line "Off the Map, Things Get Strange," is not suprising to those of us familiar with Herzog's films, which tend to veer off into strange territories (both literally and figuratively). This one is set at the Arctic's McMurdo Research Station, where Herzong interviews everyone from volcanists to plumbers (finding a fair number of offbeat personalities along the way). Herzog's usual pessimism about the world doesn't for a second ruin the supernatural, otherworldly footage of this outpost, which is tempered by his considerate, accented narration and sense of humor. A feast for the eyes and for the brain, this latest foray into unusual territory, Herzog-style, is a mind-expanding journey to the center of nowhere and everywhere.

I am a huge Herzog fan. Born in Munich, shortly before World War II, he shared a house with his friend and nemesis Klaus Kinski (their love-hate relationship is documented in the great movie, My Best Fiend) when he was only 13 and even then was confident he would become a film director. Herzog has worked in a Mexican rodeo and welded steel to finance his movies. His quality of tenacious obsessiveness is evident throughout his best movies, especially Fitzcarraldo, a film that created its own story during the making of that story and featured a lunatic playing a lunatic. (During Fitzcarraldo, he moved a 320-ton steamship over a mountain without using special effects -- see Burden of Dreams, a documentary about the film). Aguirre, the Wrath of God, is another scenic journey into madness, with Klaus Kinski revelling in an outrageous role he may or may not have been acting. My least favorite film (and there are plenty I haven't even seen) was the satiric comedy Incident at Loch Ness, which I found just plain silly, but rather than veering off into art house obscurity, his vision has flowered, resulting in the picturesque The White Diamond, the quirky Grizzly Man (probably his most "mainstream" entree) and now a plumed trip to the innermost workings of the cosmos itself -- expect a royal Mayan ancestor and neutrinos, among other wonders.

In August 2008, Esquire Magazine interviewed Petit and Herzog together ("Werner Herzog Walks the Rope"), which is good for a laugh.