Who but Werner Herzog could turn his lens to an idiosyncrasy of culture, superficially amusing, and for the simple fact of his examination alter how we perceive the subject? The filmmaker has demonstrated over his career a panache for detached, dispassionate examination of all the complexity of humanity, with an ingrained propensity toward critique (whether underhanded or overt) of modern civilization and socioeconomic policy. True, one could look to remarks that Herzog makes in his narration about this feature's focus, his thoughts on the topic, but for a viewer who has taken any meaningful time to wholly engage with the man's pictures, a particular impression naturally emerges even before we press "play." 'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck?' is first and foremost an exploration of language - the very specific and peculiar lexicon, syntax, and rhythm of auctioneering as we know it as borne from English in the United States and Canada. To a lesser extent, as the spotlighted setting overlaps with Pennsylvania Dutch territory, we get some reflection on the dialect developed among the Amish community over effectively two centuries of insularity. Yet these two components are not unrelated, and for as plainly fascinating as the depiction is on the face of it, the truth of the movie runs deeper. This is where hard analysis comes into play for the attentive audience, and where the tone arguably shifts.
Both the fast-talking blitz of auctioneering and Pennsylvania Dutch find their roots in recognizable languages (English and German, respectively), yet sufficiently diverge from their origins that they are almost completely indecipherable to those who are not highly experienced. Neither language has fundamentally changed, not in the almost 50 years since 'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck?' premiered and certainly not in all the time since the languages first developed. More to the point, however, one can ascertain that both have a distinct relationship to capitalism and modern society: Pennsylvania Dutch exists among a segment of the population that actively rejects progress and change in society over time. The special speech of auctioneering, in contrast, is inextricably linked to the inhumanity and swiftness of capitalism, and its tendency toward disposability. The unique entertainment one may fleetingly derive from witnessing this oddity is an entertainment that is inextricably linked to capitalism as a system of economics. For this, the subject becomes all the more absorbing, but also queerly unsettling.
And there's still more to glean from watching this. As Herzog himself remarks, the competition spotlighted in this documentary is over very quickly, because the rate of speech is so rapid that each competitor requires less than five minutes to illustrate their oral skills. Appropriately, 'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck?' is astonishingly quick, and pointedly straightforward - yet no less rich for the fact of it. Meanwhile, echoing the sprawling contagion of early American colonialism and the vastness of the landscapes it touched, the awards ceremony we see takes place not on the same grounds as the auction, but one hour away - longer than this film. The very structure of Herzog's picture, and of the gatherings it portrays, is in a way tied to the core subject matter. And it's therefore difficult not to begin to think like Herzog, and see 'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck?' as, ultimately, an exploration of culture that was not preexisting and later affected by capitalism and modern society, but which is emphatically a product of it - exclusively, inherently, tightly, inseparably, ruefully woven together.
These 46 minutes are utterly fascinating in and of themselves, and ever more so in accordance with what one may read into them. They are, meanwhile, characterized by exquisite direction, editing, and cinematography, and all the definite hallmarks of a master filmmaker. As direct as this is, there's a faultlessness and finesse to it in terms of both film-making and "storytelling" that is mesmerizing. And even for all that, it's such a vivid viewing experience that words don't fully do it justice - you just have to watch it for yourself. 'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck?' is a documentary like no other I've seen, and earns my highest and most enthusiastic recommendation for all comers.
Both the fast-talking blitz of auctioneering and Pennsylvania Dutch find their roots in recognizable languages (English and German, respectively), yet sufficiently diverge from their origins that they are almost completely indecipherable to those who are not highly experienced. Neither language has fundamentally changed, not in the almost 50 years since 'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck?' premiered and certainly not in all the time since the languages first developed. More to the point, however, one can ascertain that both have a distinct relationship to capitalism and modern society: Pennsylvania Dutch exists among a segment of the population that actively rejects progress and change in society over time. The special speech of auctioneering, in contrast, is inextricably linked to the inhumanity and swiftness of capitalism, and its tendency toward disposability. The unique entertainment one may fleetingly derive from witnessing this oddity is an entertainment that is inextricably linked to capitalism as a system of economics. For this, the subject becomes all the more absorbing, but also queerly unsettling.
And there's still more to glean from watching this. As Herzog himself remarks, the competition spotlighted in this documentary is over very quickly, because the rate of speech is so rapid that each competitor requires less than five minutes to illustrate their oral skills. Appropriately, 'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck?' is astonishingly quick, and pointedly straightforward - yet no less rich for the fact of it. Meanwhile, echoing the sprawling contagion of early American colonialism and the vastness of the landscapes it touched, the awards ceremony we see takes place not on the same grounds as the auction, but one hour away - longer than this film. The very structure of Herzog's picture, and of the gatherings it portrays, is in a way tied to the core subject matter. And it's therefore difficult not to begin to think like Herzog, and see 'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck?' as, ultimately, an exploration of culture that was not preexisting and later affected by capitalism and modern society, but which is emphatically a product of it - exclusively, inherently, tightly, inseparably, ruefully woven together.
These 46 minutes are utterly fascinating in and of themselves, and ever more so in accordance with what one may read into them. They are, meanwhile, characterized by exquisite direction, editing, and cinematography, and all the definite hallmarks of a master filmmaker. As direct as this is, there's a faultlessness and finesse to it in terms of both film-making and "storytelling" that is mesmerizing. And even for all that, it's such a vivid viewing experience that words don't fully do it justice - you just have to watch it for yourself. 'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck?' is a documentary like no other I've seen, and earns my highest and most enthusiastic recommendation for all comers.