7 Times Werner Herzog was Totally Random
Plus a picture of me in a hard hat
I’ve always been fascinated by people who are consistently themselves. I remember being amazed that one of my college friends was simply himself no matter who he was talking to—professors, me, new friends, our friends’ parents. It didn’t matter who he was around, he told the same jokes and had the same personality. It was a foreign concept to me, a person who has never known how to be herself…a person who, if we’re being embarrassingly honest, is currently reading a book called How to Be Yourself. I feel like a different person in every situation I’m in—with old friends, with new friends, with family, with neighbors—and there’s always, always the gentle hum of “be normal, be normal, be normal” running through my brain. I don’t totally know where this comes from (anxiety? Getting made fun of a lot as a kid?), but I have many memories from childhood of straight up lying when asked personal questions that should have very simple answers, like “what’s your favorite movie?” (what if mine’s not right and then everyone knows I’m weird) or “what’s your favorite CD?” (what if I say something uncool and then everyone knows I’m weird?) or “who’s your celebrity crush?” (okay, this one wasn’t in childhood—it happened about ten years ago and I was afraid the person I was talking to would think it was weird that all my celebrity crushes are dead, so I freaked out and said Channing Tatum, who seems perfectly nice but is not in any way my celebrity crush). To be clear, I’m no longer in the “lying about my personal interests” phase of my life, so I’ve made some progress, but this is still something I struggle with! Who am I, really, behind all the “be normal” chants in my head? Who am I when I’m telling myself not to be weird? Maybe the reason I can’t be myself is because I don’t really want to find out the answers to those questions. Maybe I’m afraid that, when I really get to know myself, I won’t like her very much. And maybe I’m afraid to act the way I want to in front of people because then they’ll see who I am deep down (bad, annoying, unlovable).
So when I see someone being themselves unselfconsciously, I’m jealous, sure, but also I’m just transfixed. And that’s how I feel about Werner Herzog (probably not where you saw this going).
I’ve never met Werner Herzog, but I can say with complete confidence that he has never, not for one second, hidden who he is. He’s never told himself to be normal because he hasn’t ever spent a second wondering what normal is. He doesn’t worry that people will make fun of him and he certainly doesn’t tell anyone he has a crush on Channing Tatum. He’s just himself.
If you’re unfamiliar with Werner, let me explain. He’s a German director who’s been pretty steadily putting out iconic, singular work since the late 1960s. He’s probably known as much for his personality in interviews as he is for his work, and I love both.
My introduction to Herzog came sometime after college. Back then, I lived in a small, wood-paneled apartment in big blue house in my hometown and I worked at a manufacturing plant. To be clear, I worked in the office of the manufacturing plant—I don’t want to pretend this was some kind of Flashdance situation and I was a sexy welder, my curly hair spilling out of my visor as I rocked a cute little uniform with a name patch. I worked in a cubicle/front office and I wore business casual clothing from Old Navy.
But it wasn’t what I wanted to be doing with my life, and I was pretty depressed. I wanted to write, but despite just getting a degree in writing, I had no idea how to actually, you know, write a book. I had nothing to say, and I felt like I would be there forever, staring at those wood-paneled walls as I listened to the guy in the apartment next to me fart (they were thin walls). I always have a hard time being myself, but at that job, I felt like I didn’t have a self, like I’d transformed myself into someone who didn’t want or care about much of anything at all. I drove to work through a pretty bleak landscape, I walked down halls full of people who didn’t know me, I wore clothes I didn’t like, I sat at a computer and talked on a phone and looked at spreadsheets all day, and then I went home, went to sleep, and did it all over again the next day. I saw no way for that to change. I felt embarrassed that I was so unhappy, because most of my friends were in grad school or in exciting cities or doing things they, if not loved, then at least cared about. I didn’t have anything exciting or new. I had info in a database about shoes and vanes (I still don’t know what shoes and vanes are and I worked there for four years). Everyone I worked with was very nice, but I knew I didn’t fit in.
But I did have one constant: movies. This was back when Netflix existed as a rental service that sent DVDs in the mail, and I happened to have a DVD player that I won for perfect attendance at a previous job in a warehouse. I realize that the kinds of jobs I had before I got serious about writing may surprise you and even seem a bit, shall we say, off brand (once I met a reader at an event when I was in my typical Jessica Day cosplay and she said, “Oh, you look like you write your books,” so I get that people probably think my previous jobs involved, like, standing on a street corner and shouting rom-com recommendations at people while cuddling puppies and wearing heart shaped glasses), but this was the beginning of the recession and I lived in an economically depressed area.
In what must’ve been a rebellion against my muted, depressed lifestyle, I used my Netflix subscription to watch independent and experimental film (the first movie I rented was Hannah Takes the Stairs…I’ve been on the Greta Gerwig train since day one). I was very into David Lynch at the time, so much so that I’m not even sure I could contain my feelings for him in one newsletter, but you should know that I came precariously close to spending over $1,000 dollars that I absolutely didn’t have to spare on a transcendental meditation course, and only backed down because the informational meeting was held in a hotel conference room and that felt scammy, even to me. Lynch somehow led to Herzog, and I clearly remember watching a Netflix DVD of Fitzcarraldo in my wood paneled apartment with my brother Alex when he was home on break from college.
And yes, okay, Werner Herzog is obviously a director and I do appreciate his work. Hollis and I even saw his cave painting documentary in 3D! But my interest in Werner quickly took a turn toward the personal.
Back in those wood-paneled apartment days, Alex and I were very intrigued by Herzog’s Rogue Film School, and surprise, the website it still up today! In the event that you aren’t familiar with it, it’s a four day seminar taught by Werner Herzog and the occasional guest speaker, taking place at wherever Werner wants it to, and happening whenever (I have a feeling they aren’t still occurring in 2022, given that the Facebook page was last updated in 2016, but I’d love to be wrong). Rogue Film School doesn’t teach anything technical (“For this purpose, please enroll at your local film school”), but is instead “about a way of life. It is about a climate, the excitement that makes film possible. It will be about poetry, films, music, images, literature.”
Hmm, what does this include, you might ask? Well, according to the site, “The art of lockpicking. Traveling on foot. The exhilaration of being shot at unsuccessfully. The athletic side of filmmaking. The creation of your own shooting permits. The neutralization of bureaucracy. Guerrilla tactics. Self reliance.” Not to downplay the importance of transcendental meditation, but this is starting to seem like a more practical use of $1500. Lockpicking? That’s helpful! I don’t know what guerrilla tactics are, but maybe I need them in my life?
But, unfortunately, the rules continue and it quickly becomes apparent that I wouldn’t make it one day in Rogue Film School, let alone four days: “Censorship will be enforced. There will be no talk of shamans, of yoga classes, nutritional values, herbal teas, discovering your Boundaries, and Inner Growth.” As anyone could tell within one second of meeting me, I love yoga, herbal tea, and especially inner growth. Werner himself would censor me before I learned a single thing about being shot at unsuccessfully. He’d probably sense that I once thought about transcendental mediation and disqualify me immediately.
There are more rules, including a reading and viewing list, but the rules end with number twelve: “Follow your vision. Form secretive Rogue Cells everywhere. At the same time, be not afraid of solitude.”
He isn’t afraid of solitude. He follows his vision. He forms secretive rogue cells. The man simply cannot help but be himself, and you know he never spent four years in a job that slowly sucked out his soul!
I did eventually leave that job for a much better job that actually involved writing (the breaking point was when my old job required me to sit in the front row of a Mitt Romney rally and shake his hand, but that’s a story for another day!). I still didn’t know how to be myself at my new job, but at least it was a step in the right direction. And I like to think that I did actually find a place where I can be myself…in my books, or maybe even in this newsletter.
My love of Werner, though, never ended. If anything, it has grown stronger. I won’t give you a history of his work or life, because that’s not really what I do here, but instead I’ll give you this: an exhaustive list of all the things I love about him. I’m gonna try to list these like a Buzzfeed list with the title “7 Times Werner Herzog Was Totally Random.”
1. The time he ate his own shoe.
The thing about Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe is…I could watch this every day. He’s so kind, so sincere, so focused on supporting his friend and the burgeoning filmmakers in the audience! Also he really does get into cooking that shoe. He wears a little button that says “question authority” (that’s so Werner) and at one point he says, “it’s not destructive to throw yourself into a cactus.” This is just a clip, but you can find the whole thing on the Criterion Channel.
2. The time he told a bunch of filmmakers “Happy new year’s, losers!”
Please do click on that link because I think of his delivery a lot. Again, this is a man who only knows how to be himself.
3. The time he was willing to die for Baby Yoga (relatable).
Despite knowing a LOT about Star Wars because of my kid, I’m not into Star Wars. In fact, I’ve fallen asleep during multiple Star Wars films, including once in a theatre behind 3D glasses. But at Hollis’s urging, I watched The Mandalorian because Werner Herzog and Amy Sedaris were involved. The Mandalorian remains the only Star Wars property I genuinely like, and I’m not saying it’s entirely because of Werner, but his presence certainly doesn’t hurt. You’ve probably heard about his passion for bb yoda, but in case you haven’t, here’s a quote from IndieWire: Herzog is without a doubt the world’s biggest fan of Baby Yoda. The filmmaker went viral last fall for saying the puppet brought tears to his eyes while filming “The Mandalorian.” Herzog said in an interview, “I have seen it on the set. I’ve seen it on the set. And it’s heartbreaking! It’s heartbreakingly beautiful…It’s phenomenal technological achievement but, beyond the technological achievement, it’s heartbreaking.”
4. The time he loved the Kardashians.
About the reality show family, Herzog says, “You have to know what a good amount of the population is watching. Do not underestimate the Kardashians. As vulgar as they may be, it doesn’t matter that much, but you have to find some sort of orientation. As I always say, the poet must not close his eyes, must not avert them.”
This is, honestly, not bad advice. The poet must not avert his eyes from Khloe or even, as much as the poet might like to, from Kourtney’s Hot Topic wardrobe. Later, Herzog says, “I’m curious; that’s my guiding principal,” and you know what? I believe him. Maybe he’s even more receptive to yoga or herbal tea these days.
5. The time he modeled an apron made by his son.
There’s so much I love about this, primarily “he’s notoriously hard to get gifts for.” I believe it! Imagine commiserating with your family over buying gifts for your hard-to-please relative Werner Herzog! Also this: “When I gave my dad the apron at the friend's house we were celebrating his birthday at, he immediately and excitedly made everyone try it on and wouldn't stop bragging about my sewing skills.” That’s sweet! According to his son’s Instagram, the two of them also recently made a film together (NO permits, obviously…unclear if any guerrilla tactics were utilized). I think that’s really nice.
Also, this may be unnecessary, but a surprising amount of the time when I write about someone who’s known but not super famous, someone will inevitably be like, “Oh, they were my brother’s college roommate!” or something like that. If you know Simon Herzog, please do not tell him about my weird newsletter where I said his dad was hot as a young man!!! Let’s keep it between us!
6. The time he got shot on television.
Okay, you might’ve seen this one, but once Werner got shot during an interview and didn’t even care (which must be why he’s so qualified to teach you the exhilaration of being shot at unsuccessfully). The best part of this, to me, is the way he seems so embarrassed when he says “It’s not significant.”
7. That time he was, I regret to inform you, kinda hot?
Is it wrong to admit that Herzog looked pretty fine when he was younger? If so, then lock me up, I guess! I’ll just take a Rogue Film School course and learn lock-picking anyway!
Rest assured I could come up with more of my personal favorite Werner moments, but this newsletter is, as usual, too dang long already. I do feel like I should give you an actual film recommendation, given that it seems almost disrespectful to focus so much on his personality instead of his work, so I’ll leave you with this: last year I watched Wings of Hope and couldn’t stop thinking about it! It follows the sole survivor of a plane crash and it’s captivating (also, for what it’s worth, significantly less upsetting for me than Yellowjackets, which was fictional).
In conclusion, here are some thoughts from the man himself. If you’ve never watched any Werner, I hope you’ll give him a try (personally, I would listen to him narrate anything). See you next week, hopefully, but until then, please remember to form secretive rogue cells everywhere and neutralize bureaucracy whenever possible.
In the last few weeks, I have heard several people sing Werner Herzogs praises. Apart from seeing him in the Mandolarion I don’t know where to start with his work. He sounds fascinating!