the kind warrior
by Douglas Messerli
Werner Herzog (screenwriter and
director) Grizzly Man / 2005
A great many of Werner Herzog’s
cinematic heroes are men of stunning contradictions (Fitzcarraldo, Kasper
Hauser, Stroszek, and Woyzeck to name only a few), but none of them is more so
than Timothy Treadwell, the focus of his 2005 documentary Grizzly Man.
Yet park officials maintain that there had been little if any poaching of the beasts, which were protected except for limited kills. Moreover, by living among them, Treadwell may, in fact, have inured the bears to human beings, and thereby endangering them and humans visiting the park. Although his films may have made his Grizzlies into a natural wonder, they also advertised the bears’ whereabouts, with gawkers and hunters following Treadwell’s tracks to the Grizzly maze.
Although he had loyal women friends, Amie Huguenard and Jewel Palovak
among them, Treadwell, it seems, was a bit of a misogynist, in one tape wishing
that he were gay so that he could freely have one sexual encounter after
another (as if that’s what most gay men desire); he laments having to “finesse”
women.
Although Herzog sees, in Treadwell’s numerous on-camera retakes and
costume changes, evidence of a skillful documentarian—and given some of the
beautiful scenes we are shown, it is clear that Treadwell was able to capture
natural events that many more noted directors were unable to—these same scenes
also reveal a highly narcissistic human being, a man increasingly moving away
from the real world in order to live in his own imagined and even
sentimentalized Eden.
Indeed, his last trip back to the lower states, after encountering a
rude airport agent, sent him back to Alaska, putting himself and his companion,
Huguenard, into further danger by coming into contact with Grizzlies during the
period in which they headed for hibernation and were necessarily trying to
provide themselves with enough food to survive it.
The bear that finally killed Treadwell and Huguenard was a relative
stranger to the area, and surely was less intrigued by the bear-lover’s
existence than simply recognizing him and his companion as sources of
sustenance. When the animal was later shot, there was evidence of four human
bodies within its stomach (I wish we might have discovered who these “others”
might have been; were they, like Treadwell, simply putting themselves in
danger?).
Of course, without Treadwell, we could not have experienced such thrills
as watching arctic
In the end, Herzog would have us see Treadwell as a kind of transformed
“believer,” as a man who, after a near-death experience from drugs, was born
again into an almost mystical relationship with nature. He wanted, so it’s
suggested, to himself become a bear. In the Grizzly Treadwell found a new god.
To give Herzog credit, he interviews a native Inuit scholar, whose own
culture also idolized the bears, but who, unsentimentally, kept a far distance
from them, recognizing their powers and dangers.
Like many who embrace strange outsider religions, Treadwell’s
embracement of the god-like bear ended in his and Anne Huguenard’s
deaths—something which perhaps Treadwell himself subliminally desired, while
yet urging Huguenard in the last moments (so we are told) to run, to abandon
the faith. Although, given his comments about his “standing his ground” against
the giants, perhaps her running away might simply have led the bear to chase
her and leave him to suffer his wounds. Contradictions, regarding Treadwell, as
I said, abound.
Los Angeles, April 14, 2016
Reprinted from World Cinema Review (April 2016).
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