Werner Herzog
Aguirre, Furore Di Dio

"If I, Aguirre, want the birds to fall struck down, the birds must fall dead from the trees.
I am the wrath of God...
The ground I walk upon sees me and trembles."

With the finale, Herzog retrieves some filmed peccadilloes like the decapitated one whose severed head finishes counting. The finale is the delusion par excellence, Aguirre is just the means, we could all be an Aguirre, we could all frequent that silent apocalypse, we could all like him hurl ourselves into time and find ourselves suspended in an aseptic magnificence, like that ship on the tree, where the mirage of absolute glory transports you into an estranging limbo where not even the beauty of death can bring you back from a longing for an unreachable cosmic power.

The refusal to abandon the upright position, the inability to feel the heaviness of the armor, the slipping over unknown waters, the certainty of triumph, all this befits Kinski and Werner's acquiescence not to meddle in Klaus's demons, where the director lets the flow of madness of the friend-enemy run free, reconnecting to a magnetic primordiality of a morbid affinity with the stars, of an acceptance of personal pathological solitude, of the uniqueness of awareness of damnation.

The deviated mystical projection is devastating in observing the absolute point of no return that Herzog miraculously captures, where the viewer's discomfort lies in not deciphering who devours whom. The conquistadores’ will to power clashes with the inevitability of the vastness of the surrounding nature. After all, there is a price to pay for El Dorado and the expense is exorbitant in every direction.

The raft goes, like the Demeter, like Charon's boat, it moves towards nothingness, backward in eternity, crystallizing the fear of passing. The longed-for apotheosis is downsized by the mesmerization of the sirens' chatter turned into little monkeys. Everything hypnotizes with everything, Shiva's dance becomes ruthless, dry, we discover that nature is "nasty", or is it the reflection of the damned within us? Extreme nihilism is the only thing Aguirre, wrath of God, can present on the plate. Naturally, it is a black hole with no return.

More than everyone being expendable, everything has already been sacrificed: "I, the wrath of God, will marry my daughter and with her found the purest dynasty that has ever reigned on earth"... You do not wake up all sweaty, you do not wake up at all.