Alright, fellow tapeheads, gather 'round. Sometimes, browsing those dusty video store shelves unearthed cinematic gold. Other times, you stumbled upon something so utterly strange, so defiant of easy categorization, that you just had to rent it. Today, we're cracking open the clamshell case on one of the latter: Les Blank's bizarrely compelling 1980 short documentary, Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe. And yes, the title tells you exactly what you're in for.
### A Bet's a Bet, Especially When It's Leather
Forget exploding helicopters or elaborate car chases for a moment. The central "action" here is of a different, arguably more visceral, kind. The premise is legendary amongst film buffs: the formidable German auteur Werner Herzog (director of epics like Aguirre, the Wrath of God and Fitzcarraldo) made a bet. He promised a young, struggling filmmaker named Errol Morris that if Morris ever actually finished his debut film, Gates of Heaven (a documentary about pet cemeteries, no less!), Herzog would consume his own footwear. Well, Morris did finish the film, and Herzog, being a man of dramatic integrity and perhaps a touch of inspired madness, decided to make good on his word – publicly.
Filmmaker Les Blank, known for his intimate portraits of American musicians and regional cultures (like the pungent Garlic Is as Good as Ten Mothers), was there to capture the whole absurd, strangely riveting affair. This wasn't some slick, pre-packaged event. Watching this on VHS, maybe late at night with the tracking slightly off, felt like eavesdropping on something raw and real. There's no high-concept gloss, just Blank's cinéma vérité camera observing Herzog as he prepares for his unusual meal.
### The Main Course: Well-Boiled Blundstone
The "practical effect" here is singular and unforgettable: Werner Herzog, looking intense and philosophical even while discussing boiling leather, meticulously preparing his boot. Forget CGI – this is culinary grit. He doesn't just gnaw on an old work boot, mind you. With the help of famed chef Alice Waters at her restaurant Chez Panisse, the shoe is simmered for hours in a stockpot with garlic, herbs, onions, and duck fat. It’s treated with a weird sort of reverence, transforming a ridiculous stunt into a performative act.
The climax occurs before a live audience at the UC Theatre in Berkeley during the premiere of Gates of Heaven. Seeing Herzog calmly carve slices of boiled leather and chew them (mostly the upper, not the sole, thankfully) is fascinating. It's not played for laughs, exactly. Herzog is deadly serious, using the occasion to deliver impassioned pronouncements about cinema, encouraging young filmmakers to have courage, take risks, and fight against the "misery of images" and "the lukewarm." Remember how utterly committed he seemed, even doing something so patently ludicrous? That intensity was pure Herzog.
### More Than Just Chewing the Fat (or Leather)
What makes Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe endure beyond its clickbait-ready title is Herzog himself. His monologues, delivered in that unmistakable hypnotic voice, elevate the proceedings. He talks about the importance of following through on your word, the need for adequate imagery in a world saturated with mediocrity, and the sheer force of will required to create meaningful art. It’s partly an act of support for Errol Morris, partly performance art, and partly a public declaration of his own artistic philosophy. Finding this tucked away on a tape felt like uncovering a secret manifesto delivered via the strangest possible medium.
Les Blank's unobtrusive style is perfect here. He lets Herzog command the screen, capturing the reactions of the crowd and the almost ritualistic nature of the event. The grainy 16mm film stock, the slightly muffled sound – it all adds to the feeling of authenticity, a far cry from the polished, narrated documentaries that would become more common later. It feels immediate, slightly chaotic, and utterly genuine, like a bootleg recording of a legendary concert.
### The Verdict
This isn't a "movie" in the traditional sense, but as a document of a singular moment fueled by artistic conviction (and maybe a little eccentricity), it’s unforgettable. It’s a testament to a time when filmmakers seemed willing to do almost anything for their art, or even just to make a point. It perfectly captures Werner Herzog's unique blend of profound insight and sheer unpredictability.
Rating: 8/10 – The score reflects its power as a unique cultural artifact and a fascinating character study, perfectly captured with vérité grit. It loses a couple of points simply because its appeal is undeniably niche, but for those attuned to its peculiar wavelength, it's essential.
Finding Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe on VHS was like discovering proof that the strange, passionate heart of independent filmmaking was truly alive and well, even if it occasionally tasted like boiled leather. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most memorable cinematic moments don't need explosions, just a filmmaker willing to put his boot where his mouth is.