Aguirre, The Wrath of God (1972)

After having just watched Se7en, which makes use of the Seven Deadly Sins in order to make a harsh criticism on civilized society, the chances of me selecting a Great Movie to watch next also dwelling on the same topic were very, very slim. Nevertheless, by pure chance, I have picked Aguirre, The Wrath of God. Go figure...

At the end of the year 1560, an expedition of Spanish conquistadors sets off from the Peruvian highlands looking for the city of El Dorado. Upon reaching the jungle, with their Inca slaves dying and their rations dwindling, they realize they may not find the golden city after all, and a party, led by Don Pedro de Ursúa (Ruy Guerra) and Don Lope de Aguirre (Klaus Kinski), is sent down the the Huallaga river to look for information concerning its whereabouts. Shortly after, however, Aguirre rebels against Ursúa, wounding him. He then renounces his King and forces the election of Don Fernando de Guzmán (Peter Berling), a nobleman also member of the expedition, as the Emperor of El Dorado, their new country. Blinded by the prospect of being rich beyond their wildest dreams, even though the men are constantly assailed by starvation and attacked by hostile natives, they keep going further down the river. Finally, too weak to fight back, all people in the boat end up being killed by the natives; only Aguirre is left alive, deliriously fantasizing about the mighty empire he will never build.

Aguirre (Klaus Kinski), with his daughter

First of all, I think I am supposed to highlight where the Seven Deadly Sins fit in the picture (lest I could be accused of Scrotie McBoogerball-ing). IMHO, it's difficult not to think of the raft as an island of civilization in the wilderness, where the most vicious members of mankind overpower the few that are just and kind and where people prize their lives more than their freedom. As for the sins themselves, greed is pretty obvious in the way the men recklessly pursue the golden city, and so is gluttony, in the way Guzmán eats his fill while his men starve. Wrath as the source of reckless decisions is symbolized by the way Guzmán and Aguirre deal with one of their most valuable possessions, the horse, unknown to the natives and, therefore, terrifying to them (in addition to the possibility of providing them meat for a week, as remarked by one of the men). A sloth, of all animals, is given by Aguirre to his daughter, maybe to stress the fact that the men are forced to sit on the raft all day, hoping to stumble upon El Dorado. One of Aguirre's men lusts for Ursúa's wife, and Aguirre, for his own daughter (giving a whole different interpretation to their interaction throughout the movie). Furthermore, Aguirre is deeply envious of Hernán Cortés, the conqueror of Mexico, as well as being so full of pride as to declare himself the "wrath of God", put on Earth to accomplish that which regular men merely dream of. That's just my interpretation, of course, and, as the French say, les opinions, c'est comme les trous du cul: tout le monde en a un.

The expedition, coming down from
the Andes into the Rain Forest

We all know the expedition is doomed, and so do the Inca slaves; the main point of the movie then becomes when and how will the Spaniards react to that fact? They were sure of eventually finding El Dorado, as it can be inferred by the things we see their slaves carrying in the opening scene. It is in that scene that we are introduced to all main characters, including Brother Gaspar de Carvajal (Del Negro), a Jesuit priest who joined the expedition so he could spread the Word of God to the natives (a very common practice during the Counter Reform). Alas, Herzog advocates, the Church is intrinsically machiavellian: as Carvajal himself says to Ursúa's wife when she comes to him for help, since the man in as ephemeral being, "for the good of our Lord the Church has always been on the side of the strong", and, therefore, he will stand idly by injustice toward the helpless. What Herzog seems to be arguing for is the notion that the Church, by being made of men, is easily corruptible by power and wealth, losing track of even the ultimate goal Carvajal explained to Ursúa's wife. Take for example the scene in which a couple of friendly natives comes to meet the expedition, recognizing them as the Children of the Sun, foretold in their lore. Those natives come with offerings of peace, ready to willingly give the much needed food and shelter to the starving explorers; nevertheless, the Spaniards rip a golden totem off one of the natives instead, assertively inquiring him about El Dorado. Ultimately, Carvajal kills them both after a simple misunderstanding on the meaning of "Word of God", blessing their bodies afterwards while uttering, "It is a tough business. These savages are hard to convert". 

Expedition: aftermath of the first night

Another character also very cleverly introduced in that scene was Guzmán (Peter Berling), Aguirre's future puppet-emperor. The first time we see him, he is using his sword as a walking stick, first to come down the mountains, then again walking around in the mud. We still don't know anything about him, other than the fact that he must not be a good soldier for treating his sword, a fighting man's most beloved possession, that way. The next time we see him, he is sitting on a cannon gobbling down a mango, again not the kind of attitude one would expect from a commanding officer. Is is said he had proven his bravery 10 years earlier. One wonders how... He himself did not want to be chosen as the emperor of El Dorado, but he, as well as any person in the expedition, would never dare deny anything to Aguirre. However, he later becomes as delusional as the men he "rules over", claiming all land they see while going down the river.

Klaus Kinski is definitely superb as Aguirre, the mad commander whose gaze make he seems like he is about to devour your soul. He reminds me of Captain Robert Walton, in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, in the way he is willing to sacrifice his entire crew in order to reach his destination, with the difference that Aguirre did indeed do exactly that. Given his remarkable screen presence, the scene in which he breaks the fourth wall to utter his famous line, "I am the Wrath of God! The earth I walk upon sees me and quakes!" is an spectacle in itself: the way he looks right at the viewer, with his angry eyes, while standing over the rubble of a burned hut, and then proceeds to look around menacing toward his men, it can chill you to the bone!

Aguirre with his wounded daughter

(I won't mark this paragraph as a spoiler because every person with a little common sense should see it coming -- besides, the cover of the film already gives away the death of Aguirre's daughter!) Finally, the set-up for the ending is quite outstanding: while the Inca slave plays his final tune in his pan flute, a rat mother, foreseeing danger, relocates its babies to a safer place, while the men, weak, hungry and now also hallucinating, gaze up, desolated, to the menacing trees, which offer them no food while still acting as a shield to their Indian assailers. After the song is finished, we are presented with a long and uncomfortable close up of the slave's expressionless face, as if he were giving his final bow before leaving the stage, after which he is never seen again. The raft is motionless in the river, making the Spaniards an even easier target to the lurking natives, who have no problem taking them down. Their blood, as it had been in the entire movie, is bright red, to better stand out against the green of the scenery and the brown of the muddy water. Aguirre, who had been a stronghold up to that point, finally snaps upon seeing the most precious pawn to his master plan, his daughter, mortally wounded. Alone in a raft full of corpses, he still daydreams of founding the purest of dynasties by marrying her, and of ruling the entire continent as his empire, all while monkeys invade the raft, as if mocking his delusions of grandeur. Absolutely fantastic! I wonder why monkeys, though... is it to accentuate how much they, "civilized men", have devolved? Or is it just a way of highlighting nature taking over civilization, and monkeys were just cheaper to rent? (This movie was made under a very tight budget after all...)

Summarizing it:

Liked	Didn't like
Klaus Kinski. Period.	Cecilia Rivera plays Aguirre's daughter quite dully (and it doesn't seem to be on purpose)

Klaus Kinski is absurdly amazing:

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Great Movie review by Roger Ebert here.

If you liked this movie, then maybe try watching Herzog's Fitzcarraldo (1982).

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