Grizzly Man

Grizzly Man (2005)

Director: Werner Herzog

I had been eager to see Grizzly Man since it first came out, and much like Polanski’s Repulsion (which I still haven't seen, but remain certain that viewing will be the life-changing event of my film experiences), I waited patiently for many years until the opportune moment arrived; when it came out on Netflix instant! Now, a week after seeing it, I have to say: if you asked me to pick five films to send to outer space in a sealed capsule along with the works of Shakespeare and Bach, Grizzly Man would be one.

This is because Werner Herzog’s documentary on bewilderingly eccentric and grossly engaging “bear enthusiast” (props Wikipedia) Timothy Treadwell captures, in a surprisingly non-abstract manner, several major important human themes that any worthy alien species should encounter: man’s role in the natural world, man’s relationship with animals, man’s relationship with the self, man’s relationship with expression, and the creation, modification, and dissemination of those expressions. Rich with paradoxes, queries, mysteries, and tragedy, Grizzly Man ultimately concludes with a refreshingly non-ambiguous message.

I’ll get to that later. Let’s begin with paradox.

Timothy Treadwell spent thirteen consecutive summers living in Katmai National Park and Preserve in Alaska among bears in total seclusion. He videotaped hundreds of hours of footage of his experience, in hopes that he could raise awareness of the environmental degradation caused by people that, he believed, was harming these creatures. When the film opens, we are provided with one of Timothy’s shots of an enormous, muscular grizzly bear shockingly close to the lens. This footage is like nothing we have ever seen on the Discovery Channel before, and throughout, Treadwell’s films provide an appropriate and deliberate juxtaposition with Herzog’s documentary that involves, primarily, his tragic and gruesome death. Thus, we have the paradox of Treadwell, with his intentions to shoot footage to raise awareness of bears, having been killed by bears, never aware that his footage would be used as the central subject matter for one of the most prolific documentaries by one of the most prolific filmmakers of all time.

A second paradox, most eerily, comes in the form of the Treadwell’s self-righteous, and yet appealingly innocent demeanor as he films himself in the wilderness. His physical affection for a little fox friend, audacity to swim with the bears and violate their territory, and incomprehensibility at the cruelty of nature (he greives at the sight of any dead animal) makes him a figure of paradox, someone who is passionately willing to live alone in nature, and clearly loves it, but remains unable to fully adapt to its harsh elements. This insight is further bolstered by the reality of his death, being killed by the bears he dedicated his life to “protect”.

The result is that witnessing Treadwell in his films is akin to witnessing the walking dead, a live human (on film anyway) whom we cannot help but attempt to comprehend how he appeared after being dismembered and eaten. It’s constantly befuddling for the viewer, the incomprehensibility of death in the sight of life. This is something that only film can achieve, as Herzog knows too well. Moreover, the reality of Treadwell’s narrative, in contrast to a fiction narrative, underscores the fact that so often real-life stories trump fictional stories in their richness of irony and characterization.

This is why Herzog bravely attempts to balance the living Treadwell with the notoriously dead figure. Herzog admires Treadwell, we all know that, even though the director never for once glorifies him. Like all people, Treadwell is flawed and blessed, and the result of his persona, as portrayed through the lens of Herzog, is a cinematic hodgepodge of defects and perfections. Herzog never stops portraying Treadwell as a tragic fugure, whether through interviews with his loved ones, or (most heart breaking) through a home video, provided by his parents, of Treadwell as a young boy doting on his pet squirrel.

Mysteries are abundant in Grizzly Man, namely the circumstances of Treadwell’s girlfriend’s role in his life and work, or the gory circumstances surrounding their deaths (most notably the infamous recording of their death cries, thankfully and skillfully left off-screen forever). However, in the end, Herzog’s opinion on Treadwell is not illusive. Unlike scores of documentaries that document but never go so far as to preach, Grizzly Man concludes with a singular eloquent and poetic message: in man’s attempt to understand his role in nature, he is actually attempting to understand the nature within himself, in all of us, which, in the end, regardless of what you think of Treadwell, solidify Treadwell’s life and death as irrevocably important.

Couldn’t have written it better myself.

A+