Into The Abyss: A Tale of Death, A Tale of Life

When Picture House At FACT announced Into The Abyss would be followed by a Q&A with its director Werner Herzog, we had to fight volunteers off with a stick. Sarah Creed won out… 

There comes a time in life when we really have to sit back and evaluate all we should be thankful for. Family, friends, loved ones; a sense of security that can only ultimately be offered by a clear sense of self and the reassurance that the path your life is taking is one that you have full control over. Herzog’s new documentary, Into the Abyss, taps into all these emotions and more, recalling the story of two young men, Michael Perry and Jason Berkett, convicted of triple murder, and the repercussions their actions have on the lives of the local community and those left to mourn the loss of the victims.

The documentary takes the form of six chapters, presented much like a book, a book that in many ways could be seen as channelling the known stages of grief, with titles such as ‘Time & Emptiness’ and ‘Glimmer of Hope’. Herzog, from the beginning, lets it be known to the audience and the convicted he encounters that he is morally against the death penalty, but will not let this affect his documentation of the story, as he has come upon this project not to help these young men with their cases, but to highlight to the world the levels of emotional turmoil that so delicately intertwine within decisions of life and death, and whether we, as fellow humans, should have the right to dictate them.

Perry and Berkett’s story is methodically and concisely presented as two young teenagers who killed a 50 year old nurse, her son and his friend, all in order to steal a car. Herzog skilfully intersects interviews from local police officers and residents with crime scene recordings, videos and images, in order to let the audience understand the full extent of the crime before he proceeds to analyse the emotional impact of death.

“Every man is an abyss, you can get lost by looking at him”

Herzog’s cinematic eye is apparent in the beautifully crafted panoramic shots of the Texan landscape, even more in the frequent, but stunningly poignant, lingering portraits of loved ones and local residents as they ponder the statements they have just recorded, often becoming emotional, and often awkward by the silences purposefully created by Herzog. Music, as in all his films, plays a key role in depicting not only the emotional atmosphere of the town of Conroe, Texas, but also the barren circumstances in which almost all involved in the film exist. In each case, the victims’ loved ones have not just lost those involved in this case, but also the majority of their extended family, either to freak accidents or other unnecessary crime.

It becomes all too apparent that crime and death is the norm in these individuals’ lives, and that it is something they have had to deal with on an emotional level more times than any one person should. Herzog nurturing style allows those he encounters to tell their story on a platform that will bring no judgement or contempt, just support and often therapeutic release. Minimal narration, and the notable absence of Herzog on screen, allows for Into the Abyss to take on its own life, told through those who know pain, suffering and loss in a way that one could never hope to comprehend.

The film was followed by a Q&A session with Werner Herzog, in which he cited that ideas for any film come at him “like burglars in the night”, and that he remembered a 1979 quote from the famous German writer Buchner, which stated: “Every man is an abyss, you can get lost by looking at him.” This inspired not only the title of the documentary, but also the angle Herzog wished to dissect all the issue he encountered, as he noted that “we all need to look vertically into the darkness of the human soul.” Here are some more highlights of this talk:

“The urgency of life that had been captured instantly hit me”

On giving the film two titles and it’s message:

WH: During the editing of the film, the urgency of life that had been captured instantly hit me. My producer and I had not encountered this before, and decided that it was worthy to add an additional dimension to the title of the film. It also links back to the closing statement of the death-house captain, in which he talks about looking out at the ducks and the birds and the hummingbirds, and asking why there are so many of them – an amazingly organic moment that completely summed up the film in a perfect way, one I believe was a lucky break!

I see the film as a positive film, we look into the dark abyss of murder, but then can also reflect that back upon ourselves and how lucky we are that we are not to be executed, that we do not know when we shall die, but they know this down to the very last second. How wonderful it is that I can open that door over there and just walk out a free man.

On the overwhelming presence of God in the film:

WH: This didn’t occur to me until the very end, how almost everyone talks of the almighty power of God or the absence of God. It reminded me of Pope Benedict’s speech at Auschwitz in which he asked where God had been during the atrocities of the Second World War – a very brave move for the head of the Catholic Church. It also highlighted to me the ineptness of some of the answers I received from the pastor in the opening shots of the film. He had a lot of pre-rehearsed lines on the power of God for the camera, but when he was arriving at the shoot he kept on tapping his watch and saying we had to be quick because he needed to go to an execution. I became instantly disinterested in him.

I believe that I want to find an ecstatic truth, one that is deeply embedded in poetry. When you read a poem you instantly know there is a deeper meaning to it, and nowadays documentaries are so righteous and fact based that they lose any of this.

On the effect filming had on him:

WH: The filming itself had no profound effect upon me, and this is a question many people ask me. So no, it has not changed me as a person, but it has changed certain perspectives I have. Meeting Jared, the local who was stabbed with a 12inch screwdriver, has a much bigger impact on me. Talking to people like him makes life better, makes you realise you can survive against all the odds.

On any philosophical influences to his work:

WH: I do not like to adopt any particular philosophy when encountering my work. I am firmly convinced that our time on earth is limited, much like the dinosaurs and the coming of the ice age. None of this makes me nervous, but it makes me rational. I need to show what’s there, right in front of me, not something someone else has influenced. There is a taboo surrounding actual death. It is constantly around us in video games, movies, television, glamourised for our entertainment; but when it comes to the death of a normal person, someone who could be you or I, then it becomes a different matter.

I myself would not film an execution, not even for $1 million. When shooting Grizzly Man I listened to the recording of two people being mauled to death by a bear, I didn’t even listen to the whole tape, but knew instantly that no one else should ever hear this. I tried to convince the owner to destroy it, but it is now held in a safety deposit box in a bank.

There is dignity in death, privacy, and they are two things that cannot be honoured in an execution. That is something I wanted to portray.

Sarah Creed

Posted on 06/04/2012 by thedoublenegative