Grizzly Man

Timothy Treadwell was an amateur conservationist whose obsession with grizzly bears would lead to his grisly (sorry) demise in 2005. Apparently suffering from at least three kinds of mad, Treadwell would spend 13 summers in a remote Alaskan park attempting to live among the bears before the creatures he repeatedly made kissy faces at would attack and devour both him and his unfortunate girlfriend.
Those inclined to entertain misty-eyed notions about this misguided tree-hugger will swiftly be disabused by Werner Herzog’s grimly hilarious documentary portrait. Dryly narrating over interviews with witnesses and family members plus the video footage Treadwell left behind, the esteemed Herr Herzog’s account starts out being quietly dubious, before becoming increasingly disenchanted – nay, irritated – with its subject.
Throughout, Alaskan locals gruffly question what business Treadwell had with the bears in the first place and sure enough, from the very outset, Treadwell seems like a total crackpot. The more, however, we see his monologues to camera – relentlessly rehearsed and angry tirades against poachers who may or may not exist – the freakier he gets.
Between weird deranged confessionals and paranoid witterings about a smiley face drawing that he imagines to be staring at him, Treadwell did shoot some amazing footage of the grizzlies. While Herzog takes a moment to admire the camerawork, he’s quick to distance himself from Treadwell’s folly. “I believe the common denominator in the universe is not harmony but chaos, hostility and murder,” intones the eccentric German director over Treadwell’s romanticised pictures of animals.
Oh yes, there are layers of lunacy in this picture. Herzog regulars will immediately recognise Grizzly Man as a perfect companion piece to My Best Fiend, his riveting schadenfraude- fuelled, yet bizarrely fond documentary detailing routine attempted murders and crazed on-set battles with maniacal actor Klaus Kinski. “I have seen this madness before,” Herzog almost harrumphs in his perfectly passive-aggressive way, underscoring the parallels.
Watching how neatly Treadwell fits in Herzog’s gallery of self-destructive nuts – the Fitzcarraldos and Aguirres – you can only think that it takes one to know one. A brilliantly, extravagantly unhinged entertainment in every sense.