A faithful rendition by Werner Herzog of the Georg Buchner play, which means that Herzog's customary protest-rallying is done here under the banner of a "classic" and in several stretches of dialogue much higher-grade than we are used to hearing in a Herzog movie. But trust Herzog, who has never been very strong on connections, whether between whole scenes or individual shots, to choose as his source material a play that was left by its author unfinished and in unordered fragments. Apart from some handsome images whose colors fall predominantly into a range between milk and cream, and rarely darker than a bowl of oatmeal, Woyzeck hasn't much to boast of as a movie. The great Klaus Kinski face, employed here as the victim of love, poverty, science, the military, and just about any other inexorable force that you are feeling sore at lately and are inclined to read into the work, is now being treated too much as The Great Klaus Kinski Face, and Herzog's direction of it seems rather closer to taxidermy, mounting the thing on the screen in an expression that perfectly fits the description of it in the text as "hunted" and "haunted." (1979) — Duncan Shepherd
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