Great filmmaker that he is, one reliable constant in all of Werner Herzog's works, fiction and non-fiction alike, is a fascination with humanity in all our variety and complexity. Great as so many of his works are, few are as immediately striking as this one is. We can sympathize and empathize, but without living ourselves with a disability, it can be hard to fathom the actual experience of deafblindness. Through Herzog's film, however, we're given remarkable, illuminating perspective that's low-key captivating - not just the struggles that the condition can entail, but also the uniqueness and richness of lives that the sighted and hearing can't imagine. One expects much of Herzog, certainly, and still I'm impressed with just how thoughtful, substantive, and meaningful 'Land of silence and darkness' is.
On the most basic level we're treated to discussion of deafness, and blindness, that speak to details of the afflictions that are often glossed over, if indeed they are spoken of at all, and gradations thereof from one person to the next. We also see, of course, proliferate use of the tactile signing that is used for communication, significant and gratifying explanation of the language system, and the partnerships that exist between the deaf-blind and their companions who effectively serve as conduits for interaction with the world around them. Atop these foundations are built portraits of individuals' personal histories and difficulties, but also their fond memories, the assertion of their singular identities, and the lives that they are still able to lead when accommodated with the necessary considerations and tools. To that point, even if Herzog's tableau didn't specifically include material that directly speaks to disability rights (it does), there could hardly be a more pointed illustration of the need of society to account for, respect, and integrate those with disabilities, and how despairingly far we have to go even fifty years after this picture was first released.
Even among documentaries there are relatively few titles that distinctly speak to disabilities, and deafblindness least of all. I'm hard-pressed to think of anyone who could be better suited to provide that edification other than Herzog, whose approach to any subject matter is consistently smart, mindful, objective, and appreciative at a fundamental level. It would be all too easy, when exploring disability, to unwittingly slip into a method that's patronizing, or exploitative, or which in any other manner talks down to those with disabilities or treats them as lesser than. With Herzog we are assured of earnest examination and portrayal, giving as complete an image of possible of what it means to be deaf-blind, and where such folks fit into society and the world at large. 'Land of silence and darkness' is difficult, in some measure, and one can't help but feel a little sad, yet it's also inspiring and heartwarming, and pleasing, and genuinely absorbing, both for the scenes we're given and the people we meet, and for the ideas that the figures discuss herein or that the filmmaker himself brings up in sparse instances of narration. The result is a movie that unquestionably stands out even among such a treasured oeuvre, let alone among cinema at large, as we're exposed to an underrepresented and underserved segment of the population that is no less deserving of life, dignity, and happiness as a fragment of the diversity of humanity.
It's impossible not to share in Herzog's fascination as we watch, and between that shared feeling, the supremely attentive tack that the man adopts, and all that is included in these eighty-five minutes, the feature is really nothing less than tremendous. I assumed when I sat to watch that I'd like this, and my expectations were still surpassed. This may not appeal to all comers, yet for those who are open to documentaries, who admire Herzog in particular, or who are just keen on learning more about our world or are avid cinephiles, this is a terrific, engrossing viewing experience that is very relevant, and I'm pleased to give 'Land of silence and darkness' my very high and hearty recommendation.
On the most basic level we're treated to discussion of deafness, and blindness, that speak to details of the afflictions that are often glossed over, if indeed they are spoken of at all, and gradations thereof from one person to the next. We also see, of course, proliferate use of the tactile signing that is used for communication, significant and gratifying explanation of the language system, and the partnerships that exist between the deaf-blind and their companions who effectively serve as conduits for interaction with the world around them. Atop these foundations are built portraits of individuals' personal histories and difficulties, but also their fond memories, the assertion of their singular identities, and the lives that they are still able to lead when accommodated with the necessary considerations and tools. To that point, even if Herzog's tableau didn't specifically include material that directly speaks to disability rights (it does), there could hardly be a more pointed illustration of the need of society to account for, respect, and integrate those with disabilities, and how despairingly far we have to go even fifty years after this picture was first released.
Even among documentaries there are relatively few titles that distinctly speak to disabilities, and deafblindness least of all. I'm hard-pressed to think of anyone who could be better suited to provide that edification other than Herzog, whose approach to any subject matter is consistently smart, mindful, objective, and appreciative at a fundamental level. It would be all too easy, when exploring disability, to unwittingly slip into a method that's patronizing, or exploitative, or which in any other manner talks down to those with disabilities or treats them as lesser than. With Herzog we are assured of earnest examination and portrayal, giving as complete an image of possible of what it means to be deaf-blind, and where such folks fit into society and the world at large. 'Land of silence and darkness' is difficult, in some measure, and one can't help but feel a little sad, yet it's also inspiring and heartwarming, and pleasing, and genuinely absorbing, both for the scenes we're given and the people we meet, and for the ideas that the figures discuss herein or that the filmmaker himself brings up in sparse instances of narration. The result is a movie that unquestionably stands out even among such a treasured oeuvre, let alone among cinema at large, as we're exposed to an underrepresented and underserved segment of the population that is no less deserving of life, dignity, and happiness as a fragment of the diversity of humanity.
It's impossible not to share in Herzog's fascination as we watch, and between that shared feeling, the supremely attentive tack that the man adopts, and all that is included in these eighty-five minutes, the feature is really nothing less than tremendous. I assumed when I sat to watch that I'd like this, and my expectations were still surpassed. This may not appeal to all comers, yet for those who are open to documentaries, who admire Herzog in particular, or who are just keen on learning more about our world or are avid cinephiles, this is a terrific, engrossing viewing experience that is very relevant, and I'm pleased to give 'Land of silence and darkness' my very high and hearty recommendation.