Into the Abyss

I have been so busy during the Master's program at USC that I hardly find time to write on this blog anymore except about films that really move me in some way. Perhaps it is a sign of how good Werner Herzog's new documentary "Into the Abyss" is that I am inspired to post a review even though I have not done so in so long. But the feeling I left with after this film is one that I would like others to experience, so I am encouraging you to go and see it.

To say it is a film about the death penalty is, I think, to miss some of the point of the film. It is about so much more. It is about an inmate on death row, and the circumstances surrounding how he got there--a senseless crime, families affected, the general nature of the death penalty in the state of Texas. However, one of the things I admire so much about this film is Herzog's respect for his subjects within the film, and the lack of pontification the film shows. Herzog does have a point of view, and in the style that is uniquely his, it comes across strongly through the film. So many documentarians seem to hide behind "facts", or let the facts tell the story because they think it will make their film less biased, or more interesting or something. However, anyone who thinks that any film can be made without a point of view is simply wrong. There is no way to divorce film maker from film entirely, and trying to remove yourself as a documentarian to prove the validity of the film only seems to me to make it weaker a lot of the time. Herzog does not give easy answers to the questions he poses. The perpetrator on death row is obviously guilty. However, Herzog refuses cheap tricks of vilification. We do not need emphasis on their villainy to feel for the victims' families, or understand the senseless nature of the heinous crime. However, the refusal to see the perpetrators as other than human adds layers of meaning, depth and truth to the film. One of the wonderful things about "Into the Abyss" is Herzog's presence within the film. Not quite a narrator, he still gives us a center from which to view what he is showing us, and shows the care that he has for filmmaking and the interest he has in this subject.

In what for me was a very great treat, Herzog was present to answer questions after the screening of the film at USC, and one of the points that came up was the revelation of truth vs. the spewing of facts. Because facts are not truth--I suppose in cases they can help lead you to it. However, truth is deeper, less tangible and more engrossing than mere facts. It is here that the power of Herzog's latest documentary lies. He does not seek facts, but truth--raw, emotional reality beyond questions of blame and guilt, beyond the espousal of political ideologies or the support of issues. "Into the Abyss" feels balanced in this sense, and does not feel that it must beat its audience over the head with its message. It (and Herzog) trusts the audience to bring themselves to the film, and draw what they will from it. While this is not to say that Herzog does not have an agenda with this film, for the point of view he takes comes across through his construction of the film, I think the respect Herzog shows with his subjects he extends to his audience. If they are coming to see the film, he respects them (and his own film-making) enough to let the story unfold visually, and cinematically without the need to beat an ideological standpoint into the ground.

This is not to say that that type of film-making does not have its place as well--however I find the story of "Into the Abyss" far more compelling and truthful than these films. The film is raw and real, and seeks out truth instead of seeking blame or guilt. The authorial presence lends a humanism to the film, and even in surprising moments a touch of the humor that Herzog often infuses into his films. I went into the movie expecting it to be depressing--how could a movie about the death penalty not be? While the movie is desperately sad, and deals with many of the worst events imaginable, Herzog deals with the subject so skillfully that I did not leave the theater feeling the impossible weight of the world bearing down on me as I have from documentaries about much less serious topics. Herzog weaves in small stories of hope, stories of heroism, and stories of love that are beautiful to behold. See especially, the story of a young man in a bar fight, stabbed with a long screwdriver, who didn't pick up a knife tossed at him to retaliate because he wanted to be able to go home and see his children that night. Look at the man who worked strapping down inmates to receive lethal injections, and after 125 could not justify a belief that anyone should be able to take a life any longer. And in the end, it seems to me that while the story is about death, it is also about life, and the importance of life. And this is what is inspiring about it even in its darkest, most abysmal moments.