Stroszek

Werner Herzog's 1977 masterpiece "Stroszek" is a tragic comedy, a beautifully-rendered snapshot of Berlin slums, a heartbreaking love story, a clinical study of mental illness, a condemnation of the American Dream.

It sounds a bit much, especially given Herzog's reputed misanthropy and the preponderance of foreign films that specialize in demonizing the United States (von Trier's "Dogville" being the worst of the recent bunch).

But "Stroszek" isn't interested in the cruelty of capitalism as it is the naivete of Stroszek himself (played with tragic reserve by the troubled actor Bruno S.)

Stroszek simply doesn't fit in anywhere. A recently-released mental patient who's apparently been in and out of institutions because of his alcoholism, he quickly befriends Eva (Eva Mattes), another lost soul who can't escape her abusive pimps. Stroszek also reconnects with his seeming guardian angel - an elderly neighbor Mr. Scheitz (Charles Scheitz) who has tended to Stroszek's belongings during his self-pronounced "vacation."

The hypnotic first half of the picture paints the portrait of a seedy Berlin slum from which nothing good can emerge - but Herzog's subtle camerawork (featuring a great deal of perfectly-framed static shots) tells of an impending miracle - surely, nothing can possibly get worse.

Indeed, hope is just around the corner; Stroszek simply needs to hitch his star to the right wagon. Mr. Scheitz is planning to move to rural Wisconsin, where his nephew has promised a good life away from the gray violence of 1970s Germany.

After one last attack from Eva's pimps, the trio are off to Railroad Flats - a dismal, rural burg that is - if anything - darker than Berlin. It's a place whose few denizens bide their ample time telling stories of unsolved murders and tawdry sex jokes, a place from which just about anyone would be desperate to escape.

But Stroszek's hope, and his love for Eva, are such that he commits to the town, buying a prefabricated mobile home and an expensive color TV that neither of them can afford. But it will work out - it has to. America is the promised land, believes Stroszek - even for a non-English-speaking, alcoholic immigrant with a prostitute girlfriend.

Of course he is doomed to fail, but, unlike the programmatic "Dogville," "Stroszek" never wishes the worst for its character in the hopes of making grand Statements. It simply observes, from a distance, the tragedy of mistaken innocence. Stroszek is tabula rasa - a man who only wants to play his accordion in a public square - not to exchange bawdy anecdotes with auto mechanics.

In its way, "Stroszek" is the real-world counterpoint to Robert Zemeckis's 1994 comic adventure "Forrest Gump," where hopeful dimness is prized, rewarded, beloved - where an idiot can find salvation in rural America despite a promiscuous girlfriend and an eccentric best friend.

Herzog's vison is far more honest - he plays cynical Candide to Zemeckis's idealistic Pangloss, yet Herzog still manages to keep his sense of humor intact. Despite the tragedies, and there are many, in "Stroszek," there are surreal slices of humor that surface even during the film's great and terrible climax - which Herzog counters with langorous shots of a dancing chicken.

Theories abound about the point of the chicken, a novelty act who dances on cue when someone drops a quarter into a machine. Nonsensical on the surface, the chicken probably represents Herzog's Skinner-ian vision of humanity: Like the chicken, we are all products of operant conditioning. Like Stroszek, we are all destined - for good or ill - to follow the paths set forth from our births.

Halfway through the film, Stroszek is shown a prematurely-born baby, whose grip reflexes are so strong that it won't let go of a doctor's hands, even as the doctor yanks it into the air. Stroszek is the adult version of the baby - a confused child looking for something - anything - human to grasp onto. But no one will hold onto the poor man; his worth as a human being is disregarded by everyone save the pathetic, senile Mr. Scheitz.

In any other film, Stroszek would be rescued, validated, saved. Not in Berlin. Not in Railroad Flats. Not, Herzog might say, anywhere.

Rating: *****