A lone man named Hias (Josef Bierbichler) stares out into the
raging foamy water of a waterfall and declares the end of the world is coming. It
definitely feels true for the townspeople, who are set adrift by the death of
the town’s master glassmaker. With the secret of how to make the town’s famed
ruby glass taken to the grave, the owner of the glass factory is driven mad in
his efforts to recover the lost secrets. Hias tries in vain to help some of the
locals, warning them of the future he has seen and the approaching destruction
of their town.
Heart of Glass has an
unusual production history, namely for Werner Herzog’s use of hypnosis on his
cast, with the main exception of Josef Bierbichler. As is Herzog’s intention,
the townspeople are disconnected from their reality, slowly intoning their
lines as they gaze past each other. In a scene supposedly taking place in a
lively pub, some of the patrons sit in silence, pale apparitions in the
darkness. When two glassblowers try to prove they can reproduce ruby glass and
ultimately fail, their fellow workers gaze down at them unresponsively, as if
they already knew it was a hopeless endeavour. It is disconcerting and
interesting to witness what is happening to these actors, although it does feel
rather unnecessary and gimmicky. By having the actors hypnotised from the
beginning of Heart of Glass, there is
no real variation in the performances.
The film is paced
slowly, Heart of Glass feels long even
though it only stands at 90 minutes long. Maybe it has to do with the film’s
unending sense of terror and what could be interpreted as a pessimistic ending?
Perhaps it is due to the film’s cryptic nature, Heart of Glass feels at times slightly beyond the reach of the
audience. Why does the factory owner’s father laugh so much if he believes he
will crumble if he stands up? What became of the hunter Hias was worried about?
What is going on with the peasant who strips in the pub? Why is Hias fighting
an invisible enemy, is it supposed to be the bear that threatens the hunter? It
feels like Heart of Glass is not
interested in answering any of the questions it raises.
Jörg Schmidt-Reitwein’s
cinematography is gorgeous to look at. The opening scene of Heart of Glass is mysterious yet serene
as Hias sits staring out into a misty field, at what first appears to be a
freeze frame until a cow stirs slightly. Then we are looking down at the
Bavarian forests, as a river of fog flows over it again and again. The horizon
of the ocean is slightly hazy, as if we are looking through a muslin cloth.
Accents of red appear sporadically, in the treasured ruby glass, the red bill
of a bird and the blood on a knife. Schmidt-Reitwein invokes an otherworldly
sensibility, unrelated to the film’s 18th century setting, or maybe
better described as fatalistic.
Heart of
Glass is a curiosity with some beautiful cinematography; however
its enigmatic nature might be off-putting for viewers.
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