When legendary director and film professor Werner Herzog told a puffed-chested student, Errol Morris, that if he will ever make a film about pet cemeteries, he would eat his own shoe, I bet you he did not say it in disbelief--he was daring Morris to do it. And what better test? The subject seems like it was randomly picked from a box. Yet here I am now, writing not a review, but giving an ovation to one of the most legendary works of art ever made.
Yet the subject is not what makes or breaks a documentary--it is the people. What they say? How they talk? "Gates of Heaven" has, probably, the most fascinating subjects. Their personalities are so complex, often so well-defined, that sometimes I felt they were playing some sort of characters! And what is this, exactly? I cried, laughed and then straight-up felt ridiculous multiple times, in varying order at a really fast pace. Is it really a documentary to bring to attention the pet cemetery business (yup, it's a thing) or an in-depth study into the personalities and philosophies of the type of people who would bury their companions? It is both these things and probably more.
Morris used absolutely no narration, everything being carried by the people interviewed. It starts with Floyd McClure, the first man who initiated the project and who then lost it because he simply had too much of a heart. He felt like he had a responsibility to these pets, to repay them in death for the joy they brought to people in life. This is both ridiculous and heart-warming. It's one of the many moments in which the film leaved me unsure what to feel. I don't know if it dared me to ponder at his philosophy, or just to fascinate me of what an unusual man he is. In any case, he speaks the truth and that is the key, but like most men in this film, he second-guesses human nature's purity, and found honesty in his little pets. "People like people because they like one another; and people don't trust one another thoroughly like an animal and a human being. I can know you very well but when I turn my back, I don't know you, not truly. But my little dog, I can turn my back on my little dog and I know he's my little friend. He's not gonna jump on me, or bite me... But human beings cannot be this way".
The people interviewed seem to have a pageant for philosophy. But of course they consider human relationship beneath an animal-human relationship. This takes place in California, in an America booming with industry, privilege and material well-being. It was a time when the United States was a democratic paragon. A well-oiled system in full effect, pushing people to find primordial, unconditional love in their pets. Their ever-increasing philosophies pushes this documentary into a league of its own. It is not really about pet cemeteries, as it is about anything else other than that. Is Morris just letting the camera roll as the people talk? Is he filming them, or just pressing "record" and then going for a bite with his crew and mocking the subjects for their seriousness, as well as Herzog for having to eat his shoe and subsequently, myself, for feeling, well, anything.
Whatever his intentions, the depth of this thing is true. Intended or not, this is probably the most insightful film I have ever seen. This is saying a lot for a documentary! Only when you realize that its insight goes out and away from pet cemeteries you start to realize you are watching something special. Apart from some basic technical presentations, it is, in the end, people just talking about themselves. But how unbelievable it is that it took a freaking pet cemetery to get people to open themselves up. "There's your dog; your dog's dead. But where's the thing that made it move? It had to be something, didn't it?" There it is; the quintessential question to life.
I haven't even mentioned the Harberts, yet. The two brothers who were the new owners of the cemetery. Phillip is the older one, more clean-cut than Danny, and his motives are strictly business-wise as it feels like he has a pathological need to prove himself. And what better to make a man feel a man than a pet cemetery, amirite? Danny, on the other hand, is what I think would pass for a hipster these days. He is lonely and an outsider. It is funny how they both end up talking about themselves more than they do about the cemetery. In fact, the pet cemetery is the least talked-about in this film and there is something unusual that I simply cannot put my finger on. It is killing me right now.
Whatever this thing is, it is an eternal, theistic legend; a static, linear discussion concealing an elaborate test for a viewer's response to a film. Or maybe it isn't. Maybe Morris just got lucky with the people he interviewed--or maybe they are paid actors? Nobody knows, and if you think you know, you probably don't, either. Herzog was a man of his word, by the way.
Yet the subject is not what makes or breaks a documentary--it is the people. What they say? How they talk? "Gates of Heaven" has, probably, the most fascinating subjects. Their personalities are so complex, often so well-defined, that sometimes I felt they were playing some sort of characters! And what is this, exactly? I cried, laughed and then straight-up felt ridiculous multiple times, in varying order at a really fast pace. Is it really a documentary to bring to attention the pet cemetery business (yup, it's a thing) or an in-depth study into the personalities and philosophies of the type of people who would bury their companions? It is both these things and probably more.
Morris used absolutely no narration, everything being carried by the people interviewed. It starts with Floyd McClure, the first man who initiated the project and who then lost it because he simply had too much of a heart. He felt like he had a responsibility to these pets, to repay them in death for the joy they brought to people in life. This is both ridiculous and heart-warming. It's one of the many moments in which the film leaved me unsure what to feel. I don't know if it dared me to ponder at his philosophy, or just to fascinate me of what an unusual man he is. In any case, he speaks the truth and that is the key, but like most men in this film, he second-guesses human nature's purity, and found honesty in his little pets. "People like people because they like one another; and people don't trust one another thoroughly like an animal and a human being. I can know you very well but when I turn my back, I don't know you, not truly. But my little dog, I can turn my back on my little dog and I know he's my little friend. He's not gonna jump on me, or bite me... But human beings cannot be this way".
The people interviewed seem to have a pageant for philosophy. But of course they consider human relationship beneath an animal-human relationship. This takes place in California, in an America booming with industry, privilege and material well-being. It was a time when the United States was a democratic paragon. A well-oiled system in full effect, pushing people to find primordial, unconditional love in their pets. Their ever-increasing philosophies pushes this documentary into a league of its own. It is not really about pet cemeteries, as it is about anything else other than that. Is Morris just letting the camera roll as the people talk? Is he filming them, or just pressing "record" and then going for a bite with his crew and mocking the subjects for their seriousness, as well as Herzog for having to eat his shoe and subsequently, myself, for feeling, well, anything.
Whatever his intentions, the depth of this thing is true. Intended or not, this is probably the most insightful film I have ever seen. This is saying a lot for a documentary! Only when you realize that its insight goes out and away from pet cemeteries you start to realize you are watching something special. Apart from some basic technical presentations, it is, in the end, people just talking about themselves. But how unbelievable it is that it took a freaking pet cemetery to get people to open themselves up. "There's your dog; your dog's dead. But where's the thing that made it move? It had to be something, didn't it?" There it is; the quintessential question to life.
I haven't even mentioned the Harberts, yet. The two brothers who were the new owners of the cemetery. Phillip is the older one, more clean-cut than Danny, and his motives are strictly business-wise as it feels like he has a pathological need to prove himself. And what better to make a man feel a man than a pet cemetery, amirite? Danny, on the other hand, is what I think would pass for a hipster these days. He is lonely and an outsider. It is funny how they both end up talking about themselves more than they do about the cemetery. In fact, the pet cemetery is the least talked-about in this film and there is something unusual that I simply cannot put my finger on. It is killing me right now.
Whatever this thing is, it is an eternal, theistic legend; a static, linear discussion concealing an elaborate test for a viewer's response to a film. Or maybe it isn't. Maybe Morris just got lucky with the people he interviewed--or maybe they are paid actors? Nobody knows, and if you think you know, you probably don't, either. Herzog was a man of his word, by the way.