Hear Me Out: ‘Stroszek’ is Werner Herzog’s greatest movie
When Werner Herzog released Stroszek in 1977, he was already an established name in the realm of New German Cinema. His oeuvre up until that point, populated by films like Aguirre, The Wrath of God and The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser, showcased a director captivated by existential questions, otherworldly landscapes, and the darker corners of the human psyche.
Yet, Stroszek, a film comparatively stripped of grandeur and spectacle, stands as Herzog’s most profound cinematic exploration. It tells a fairly straightforward tale, tracing the journey of Bruno S, a Berlin street musician, who moves to America in search of a better life. Herzog captures something profoundly complex, deeply human – and almost unbearably touching in this apparent simplicity.
Unlike his earlier works, which often feature larger-than-life characters embroiled in grand existential quests, the people in Stroszek are ordinary individuals. Their struggles are not of mythical proportions, but they are struggles nonetheless—struggles that offer a critique of both capitalism and the elusive ‘American Dream’.
The film’s inherent power lies in its human element. Herzog explores the ordinary and the everyday and, in doing so, exposes the inherent tragedy of a narrative that is as universal as it is personal. The film doesn’t scream its point, nor does it need to. It communicates its despair and disillusionment through its characters’ simple lives, failures, and minor triumphs. This nuanced portrayal transforms the film from mere storytelling into an enduring drama that strikes at the very core of what it means to be human.
Herzog’s America
The America that Herzog depicts in Stroszek is certainly not the land of the free – or even of opportunity so often glorified on the silver screen. Instead, it’s a place where dreams slowly erode through the grinding gears of life’s disappointments, culminating in the film’s surreal and unforgettable final sequence. The contrast between the life the characters left behind in Berlin and the life they find in America highlights the emptiness of material prosperity – and the profound hollowness of the American Dream.
In Stroszek, Bruno S, a Berliner who has spent much of his life in institutions, joins forces with a prostitute named Eva and an elderly eccentric called Scheitz. They decide to leave their marginal existence and the abuse they face in Germany for the promised land of America, specifically (and hilariously) Wisconsin. There, they initially revel in their new-found freedom and the kitschy emblems of American life.
However, as they struggle to assimilate into this new world, their dreams of happiness and prosperity quickly disintegrate into a depressing maelstrom of isolation, poverty, and ultimate tragedy. By the end, Bruno finds himself adrift in a world as indifferent as the one he left, culminating in an auction of bizarre dreams where even a dancing chicken is on sale to the highest bidder.
Stylistically, Herzog employs a form of raw, almost documentary-like cinematography. The director’s aesthetic choices draw viewers deeper into the unfolding drama. Every shot is both calculated and natural, every line of dialogue laden with a complex mix of absurdity and sorrow. The film’s aesthetic and commitment to realism underscores its thematic ambitions, driving home the point that these lives, while dramatised, echo the lives of disenfranchised people everywhere.
How Stroszek captures the messiness of life
The storytelling in Stroszek is untamed and, in many ways, resembles the messiness of life itself, much like the works of John Cassavetes. Herzog’s narrative is a raw, open wound; it never heals or resolves in a tidy bow. Instead, it sprawls, lingers, surprises and confounds. Herzog avoids the traps of conventional storytelling, embracing a kind of chaotic narrative logic that defies neat summations.
With films like A Woman Under the Influence and Faces, Cassavetes also tapped into the marrow of human complexity using a similar kind of narrative unruliness. Both directors find in the messiness of life a kind of ultimate truth, a deeper understanding of the human condition that eludes more polished and structured forms. The stories they tell resist easy conclusions or moral lessons; they simply unfold as life does—irrationally, painfully, beautifully.
The film represents a high point in a career already brimming with impressive peaks, capturing an emotional and thematic depth that I would argue Herzog never quite managed to reach again. Considering the director’s near-60-year career and a filmography boasting 20 entries, it’s a film that often gets lost among his more evident and commercial titles – but Stroszek stands as perhaps the greatest testament to Herzog’s unparalleled skill as a filmmaker.
