Sunday, April 02, 2006

Grizzly Man

Substance addicts come in all shapes and sizes, but they all have one thing in common; their addictions. The addict may be hooked on heroin, meth, pills, or booze, but for whatever reason they started, the addiction becomes engrained into their body and soul. If the addict manages to give up the substance, a black chasm ruptures across his psyche, and an obsession must be cultivated in order to plug the gap.

Timothy Treadwell choose to live amongst wild bears in Alaska in order to replace his drug addiction, unusual because recovering addicts rarely pick something more dangerous than being a junkie. For 13 years he recklessly inserted himself into the bears living space, shooting thousands of hours of film and getting so close to some that he could reach out and touch. He was dismissive of the suggestion that he carry a weapon, cheerfully stating that he would never dream of harming a bear, even in self-defense. Perhaps that stance did take a small degree of insane courage, though when you find out that a bear did in fact kill and eat him, you can’t help but think that it would have been considerate of him to arm his girlfriend, who suffered the same gruesome fate.

Grizzly Man uses both interviews and Treadwell’s own footage to analyze and ponder the man and his death. Director Werner Herzog weaves a glum and surprising picture of both Treadwell and the bears he dedicated his life to. Unlike many nature films, Grizzly Man has a healthy distrust for animals, and Herzog scoffs at granting them anthropomorphic qualities. Treadwell does not escape criticism in death, and Herzog never hesitates to paint an unflattering portrait.

Take the scene where Treadwell weeps over the body of a dead fox. Though he claims to have a sort of psychic connection to nature, his treatment of it rarely surpasses childish and selfish. At one point, he constructs a makeshift damn to increase the bear’s food supply, which doesn’t suggest much of a genuine love for the way nature works. When we interview his family, we discover that Tredwell wasn’t even his real name, but an invented one, along with a phony Australian accent and back story that even his close friends thought was true.

When narrating to his camera, Treadwell performs dozens of takes, the subject almost never the bears, but his perceived rapport with them. Near the end, he engages in a long, profanity-ridden rant where he proclaims himself the sole protector of bears on the earth.

Despite Treadwell’s feverishness, this was never the case. Herzog interviews many people who point out that his brazen mingling with the bears was detrimental, as it taught bears to be unafraid of humans. Treadwell argues that he prevents poaching, which the local environmentalists agree happens so rarely that it is a non-issue.

Grizzly Man works splendidly as both character study and warning against Treadwell’s type of behavior, and not just what occupied the surface. His attitude provides an intriguing parallel to all sorts of politicians and self-proclaimed do-gooders who express interest in causes such as the poor, nature, minorities, and soldiers, but really use them as an excuse to pat themselves on the back, or worse, for self-gain. Herzog, the legendary director of the brilliant Aguire, Wrath of God, has gained respect for making intelligent films that pointedly tackle bizarre and harmful behavior. With Grizzly Man, he could have gotten away with just editing Treadwell’s footage, but true to form, Herzog goes the extra mile.

4.5 out of 5

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