Flying over the vast open land of the devil, the interstellar observer speaks gently yet firmly,

“This was once a forest before it was covered with oil. Everything that looks like water is in actuality oil. Ponds and lakes are spread out all over the land. The oil is treacherous because it reflects the sky. The oil is trying to disguise itself as water."

This docudrama takes us to one year after the gulf war. In this war, Iraq conquered and occupied a portion of Kuwait. In answer to that, a collective army of 35 nations, headed by the USA marched against Iraq. However, this film doesn’t have geopolitics. Werner Herzog as the interstellar observer takes his time to gaze at the hellish landscape, utterly destroyed, mutilated by human-made destructions. This is a documentary film but it uses a sci-fi narrative to disguise itself. Not unlike how Herzog approaches his documentary films. They are not haphazardly presented, neither are they bereft of aesthetics. Herzog’s documentaries feel narrative dramas. And to that extent, I can call Lessons of Darkness as a subversive genre of documentaries. He imagined himself as a member of an unknown alien race, a visitor to this planet and a witness to all this mindless destruction. There's no explanation. There's excuse. Frames come on the screen and frames go. Each of them has their own unique voice. As if they are the ultimate art all by themselves.

Let me showcase some of the frames, because if I don't, this point I just made is lost.

Audience at the film festival were outraged. How could he? How dare he? He gave war an aesthetic, artistic face. Made it romantic.
But Herzog shrugged, brushing off all these accusations.

Not as a Herzog devotee, I think I can see the baselessness of the accusations as regular person. 'Lessons of Darkness' has certainly destructive beauty to it. There's a huge chance the audience will get captivated by the signs of decayed civilization, scattered debris of once whole structures, heaps of trash, epic poems of blackened oil and the fury of the flared flame— but I don't doubt for a second that they wont tremble at the cruelty of it all. A man eater tiger doesn't lose a shred of its ethereal beauty, just because of it's acquired wickedness.

But I think I understand the ones who felt their nerved assail by this raw display, I understand the source of their discomfort. Expecting a haunting record of a postwar landscape, I too got derailed, swayed by the bleak charm and the tunes of classical instruments that accompanied. Kudos to the cinematographer Paul Berriff.

Who can say — perhaps the accusers accused Herzog precisely because they were too charmed completely, helplessly. Is it a crime to transcend?

I sure hope not.

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The cover was taken from here
All other photos are screenshots from the film.