Werner Herzog’s “My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done” is a splendid example of a movie not on autopilot. Now here is a film where Udo Kier has his eyeglasses are snatched from his pocket by an ostrich, then yanked from the ostrich’s throat by a farmhand, then gets them back all covered with ostrich mucus, and tells the ostrich, “Don’t you do that again!”
Meanwhile, there is talk about how the racist ostrich farmer once raised a chicken as big as, I think, 40 ordinary birds. What did he do with it? “Ate it. Sooner pluck one than 40.” Knowing as I do that Herzog hates chickens with a passion beyond all reason, I flashed back to an earlier scene in which the film’s protagonist talks with his scrawny pet flamingoes. Is a theme emerging here? And the flamingo who regards the camera with a dubious look — is it doing an imitation of the staring iguana in Herzog’s “Bad Lieutenant?”
For me, it hardly matters if a Herzog film provides conventional movie pleasures. Many of them do. “Bad Lieutenant,” for example. “My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done,” on the other hand, confounds all convention and denies all expected pleasures, providing instead the delight of watching Herzog feed the police hostage formula into the Mixmaster of his imagination. It’s as if he began with the outline of a stunningly routine police procedural and said, “to hell with it, I’m going to hang my whimsy on this clothesline.”
He casts Willem Dafoe as his hero, a homicide detective named Hank Havenhurst. Dafoe is known for his willingness to embrace projects by directors who work on the edge. He is an excellent actor, and is splendid here at creating a cop who conducts his job with tunnel vision and few expected human emotions. It is difficult to conceive of a police officer showing less response to a madman ostrich farmer.
His case involves a man named Brad McCullum, played by the inspired Michael Shannon with an alarming stare beneath a lowering brow. He kills his mother with a wicked antique sword as she sits having coffee with neighbors.
His mother (Grace Zabriskie) is a woman who is so nice she could, possibly, inspire murder, especially in a son who has undergone life-altering experiences in the Peruvian rain forest, as this one has — and why, you ask? For the excellent reason, I suspect, that Herzog could go to great difficulty to revisit the Urubamba River in Peru, where he shot part of “Fitzcarraldo” (1982). Perhaps whenever he encounters an actor with alarming eyes, he thinks, “I will put him to the test of the Urubamba River!”
The film’s producer is David Lynch, one of the few producers who might think it made perfect sense that a cop drama set in San Diego would require location filming on the Urubamba River.
Detective Havenhurst takes over a command center in front of the house where Brad is said to be holding two hostages , and interviews Brad’s fiancee Ingrid (Chloe Sevigny) and his theater director, Lee Meyers (Udo Kier).
Both tell him stories that inspire flashbacks leading up to the moment when Brad slashed his mother.
“My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done?”
Not rated. 1 hour, 27 minutes. Directed by Werner Herzog. Written by Herbert Golder and Herzog. Starring Willem Dafoe, Michael Shannon, Chloe Sevigny, Udo Kier, Brad Dourif, Grace Zabriskie and Gabriel Pimentel. Opens today at the Starz FilmCenter.
