it turns the classic play woyzeck into an incredibly bleak experience. the majority of us can place ourselves in his shoes, drifting despondently through an ugly and filthy landscape, yearning to escape loneliness, grasp our individual ideals - only to shatter like a pane of glass, landing in the filth that surrounds us
Woyzeck is a miserable loser, but he's cool with it, an anti-hero sorta like The Dude or Philip Marlowe, It's OK with him. Based on the same play by Georg Buchner as Herzog's film. This one doesn't have Kinski, but it has cool b&w photography that makes everything incredibly bleak. Different from Herzog's, but both are great.
These people are dark lumps of soil that can’t be covered by the heaviest snow, mobile black earth, the last in queue. Clouds rush over their land on high and shaky stilts like weakened storks striding to join elsewhere a merrier clan. The billows scoot and gasp - a bosom that will spill its content in another country, on hungry verdant land, away from this incinerated ground where eyes collect green flares from the
To express something that could be said for a larger ilk of Eastern European films and their makers (Tarr, Bartas, German, Fehér, Kelemen et al.) during this particular period of cinematic (and socio-political) history; The unadulterated cacophony of human moroseness and absurdity anthropomorphised into the unadulterated harmony of cinema.