My son, my son, what have ye done (2009)

I briefly glanced at a description of Herzog's My son, my son, what have ye done and didn't really feel like watching it: I assumed it to be a horrendously bad movie. I watched it anyway, and it was a horrendously bad movie - in a brilliant way. Throughout the film: eerie, white, low sunshine. Strange suburban landscapes. A man who is a bad actor in a Greek tragedy (Elektra) has killed his mother. The police, even the SWAT teams, camp outside his house. He has hostages in there. -

This sounds like a run-of-the-mill action movie. But instead of adrenaline-dripping delivery, actors deliver their strange lines in a flat, intentionally uninspired way. Willem Defoe plays a detective who does nothing in particular except deliver these hushed, pensive lines in a flat voice. This film is on valium, and you are put in a glacial, narcotic state of mind if you watch this: watching a detail, something happens, wow what did I just see?, something else happens etc. The style is intentionally sloppy as well. The girlfriend talks about her boyfriend, the killer. As she mentions some event, the film goes on FLASHBACK-mode. It works stunningly, of course. Everything does, in this strange little film, where one can be surprised by nothing: flamingoes everywhere, a sentimental scene where a basketball is placed in a tree, a VEEERY long take of people just being silent around a serving of Jell-O, an ostrich munching on a pair of glasses and a farmer snatches them from his mouth and the glasses are all covered with ostrich mucus. And, um, God in a cereal box. Stuff like that. Herzog wrote somewhere that he does not believe in a clear distinction between fiction and documentary. This film is a good example - just how things are made, what takes place is somehow not reducible into fiction: the fact that Herzog actually came up with a certain idea and made the actors do certain things tells something about the strangeness and beauty of human life. It is also said that some parts of the film are the result of improvisation, and this only adds to the point. This sounds pompous, but if you watch My son, my son, what have ye done you will understand what I mean. - - The spirit of David Lynch is apparent in the movie: in the landscapes, in the mother-figure played by the actress who we all still know as Sarah Palmer, and the first thing we see in the opening credits is David Lynch's name (executive producer). - But of course this is all pure herzogian stuff. We all bear Bad lieutenant (along with singing iguanas) in our hearts and in our minds.

And did I mention the great music by Chavela Vargas Herzog has had the good taste to include in the film? Wonderful stuff.
And did I mention Udo Kier? Oh, you have to watch this.