(3 of 6)
Some of the young directors live in Berlin, where the great movies of the past were made. But most have gravitated toward Munich, which has a long history of artistic patronage, not to mention the finest beer brewed anywhere. "Munich is like a pleasant afternoon," explains Kluge, the doyen of the film tribe. "It's a fun city, a Disneyland." An added attraction is the technical facilities of the established film industry. Because of German tax shelters, major Hollywood movies, like Twilight's Last Gleaming and Cross of Iron, are often made in Munich studios.
Oddly enough, in a city of almost mandatory friendliness, there is no Munich equivalent of the Malibu colony, and there are no Irving Lazars or Sue Mengers to press the flesh at luaus around the pool. Instead, the directors tend to form friendly, but distinct factions. "Wenders is the guru of the Munich sensitivities," says Schlöndorff, only half-jokingly. "He and his followers shy away from politics. Fassbinder is the Puccini faction. He can make any kind of movie you ask. Herzog is also a one-man faction, of the existential school of Heidegger." When Ingmar Bergman moved to Munich in 1976, the young Germans thought that he might become their spiritual leader. Instead, the first week he was seen sitting with Franz Josef Strauss, a former Defense Minister and a leading right-wing politician. "It was a bit of a disappointment," says Wenders.
Most of the directors live in separate parts of Munich, and when they do meet, it is only by accident. "When I see Fassbinder, I say something like 'I like what you're wearing,' " says Herzog. "After that I don't know what to say. We always feel too embarrassed to speak."
No wonder. Except for their talent, the two have nothing at all in common. Herzog, a man with a sad, drooping mustache and basset-hound eyes that seem to make him irresistible to women, is a fanatic, a man with a mission. "I don't think that there exists a world for him outside of his own angle of vision," says Munich Critic Florian Hopf. "There's a wonderful Latin word for someone who creates everything, demiurge. Herzog is a demiurge."
To test mind and body, Herzog will suddenly tie a pack on his back, say goodbye to his wife and children, and go walking. A few years ago his feet took him from Munich to Paris, a distance of 500 miles. When he is not walking, he is usually in flight, scouting locations or merely visiting for a few hours in New York or Peru. "I am still looking for a dignified place for men to live," he explains. "It is an impossible search for a place that perhaps only exists in my dreams." Wistfully he adds: "My heart tis very close to the late Middle Ages."