Little Dieter Needs To Fly is another in the remarkable body of Werner Herzog's filmic work that is without peer. Having recently rewatched it on DVD, nearly a decade after its initial US release in 1997, it has lost none of its power, and one can see its influence on documentaries as diverse as Herzog's own recent Grizzly Man and Errol Morris's Academy Award winning The Fog Of War. Like the former, it details, in its far too brief 74 minutes, the life of an interesting American. Like the latter it gives a peek at a side of war that few see. Yes, we see the violence and the heroism, but as The Fog Of War brought us into the mind of one of last century's foremost warmongers, this film allows us a peek at the life of a grunt who is captured by the enemy, tortured, and ultimately triumphs. Except, in no way, shape, nor form, is the film as simplistic nor upbeat as my brief description of it. Nor is Little Dieter Needs To Fly's titular subject, Dieter Dengler, and immigrant German who survived the depredations of the Nazis (we find out, as example, that in his hometown, Wildburg, in the Black Forest, his grandfather was the only man not to vote for Hitler, and suffered brutally for that stand) post-World War Two Germany, and his own imprisonment at the hands of the Vietcong, when his Air Force jet was shot down over Laos on February 1st, 1966. While the title of the film, and the idea of Dengler's passion for becoming a pilot, stirred by the impression Allied fighter planes made on him when they razed his town, as a child, make one believe that Dengler is the central subject of the film, this is not true. The subject is Dengler's survival, or, more precisely, his human will, all human will. The details of Dengler's romantic life are too Hollywood and staid an aspect to interest Herzog. Nor is the fact that he won a Purple Heart, Medal of Honor, the D.F.C., and the Navy Cross. That thing which pushed Dengler to survive so much, and remain such a relatively upbeat man (although there are glimpses of darker sides), is what is at the center of this film, and all of Herzog's canon. Dieter Dengler's 'distant barbaric dream' of his past is fully ripened Herzog Country, and the use of a Madagascan chant, Oay Lahy E, during many jungle scenes, among other excellent touches in the score, show Herzog is, perhaps along with only Martin Scorsese, the best manipulator of image and music in film. Long may he merge!
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