My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done
Directed by Werner Herzog
United States, Germany | 2009
Are we experiencing the Orestian odyssey that’s playing out in Brad’s head, or perhaps his schizophrenia? One is forced to make conjectures like that in order to make sense of the film. After one viewing, I don’t buy the descent into madness of a character when everyone else is equally mad; that just seems terribly counter-intuitive, even for Herzog. Maybe I’m wrong. If so, there’s plenty of reason to see it again. If nothing else, it serves as a stimulus for discussion of the artist’s role in his creation and of the line that separates tragedy and mordant superfluity. I’d like to think of it as an unintentional satire. Then I wonder if intentions even matter. Then I remember vividly some of the scenes here and their inhabitants, like Uncle Ted, proprietor of an ostrich farm and purveyor of hilarious homophobic slurs…