Twenty years ago, acclaimed narrative and documentary filmmaker Werner Herzog released one of the greatest films of his career. With critical adoration and a tidy $4 million at the box office, Grizzly Man tells the utterly fascinating story of the eccentric grizzly bear conservationist Timothy Treadwell, his life and his subsequent death.
Treadwell was a huge personality, and this documentary goes to great lengths to explain why he behaved the way he did. Perpetually confused by society and people, he also longs for their approval. He talks about how he goes to schools for free to show the footage he has captured of bears, and meditates on why women don’t like him (despite his self-proclaimed ability in bed). Treadwell ventures into the wilderness to be with the bears, but records and performs for the camera for an audience he so desperately craves. It’s unfortunately obvious that he wanted to be for bears what Steve Irwin is for crocodiles: lovable and deeply caring for the animals, but also very knowledgeable. However, bears are less predictable than crocodiles, and there are lines that Irwin wouldn’t cross, whilst Treadwell almost gleefully strides across them. Upon hearing that he had died, his friend said that “it was not necessarily a surprise”. This should tell you everything you need to know about the way he behaved during the summers in Alaska.
Herzog is a master filmmaker, weaving images together perfectly to craft this tale. He gives you the facts, his contemplative narration on the subject, and the thoughts and options of those closest to Treadwell. He lets you make your own opinion of him, which is why this documentary has stood with me for so long. It’s classic Herzog in that he has found an eccentric and engaging character whose rise and fall can be clearly mapped out by his actions, a theme throughout his previous Klaus Kinski narrative features. Treadwell was a failed actor, drug user and alcoholic before becoming obsessed with bear conservation. He poured all of his addictions back into conservation, creating a new persona: the lone wolf out in the wilderness, fighting the good fight against the poachers and the rangers who didn’t want him to get close to the bears. Towards the end of his life, it seemed he was getting too overconfident living in this environment, which may have led to his fateful final bear encounter.
The documentary illustrates the two Timothy Treadwells that always seemed at war with one another: the timid man who just wants to be around the bears and the foxes, and the one with an unrelenting need to be on camera and create an engaging scene. Herzog paints a picture of Treadwell as a dedicated filmmaker, showing how he often took many takes—up to 15 in some cases. His lie about being alone in the environment, when he frequently brought a girlfriend along, is also interesting. Reality was often at odds with the images he presented.
Now, twenty years later, we can re-contextualise these tapes that he left behind as almost being the early stages of YouTube videos. In a way, Treadwell was the original vlogger, often looking down the lens and delivering confessionals about the animals or his personal life. You get the sense that he could never talk to a real human being about the feelings he was going through, and what drove him away from civilisation.
You can absolutely imagine Treadwell as an internet personality, a man who sings to a 200kg bear, witnesses vicious bear fights and adds in his own commentary. In modern times, there are many, many people like Treadwell online. A whole genre of TikTok videos is dedicated to surviving in the wilderness. There are countless videos of people who have either invited wild animals into their homes or who roam the areas where the dangerous animals are, and try to live among them. As time goes on, the more extreme you can be, the more views—and revenue—you can get. The question remains: Have we learned anything from the death of Timothy and his girlfriend Amie? There will always be someone out there who wants to make a name for themselves, and may be inspired by what Treadwell achieved in his life regardless of how it ended.
Many people say Treadwell caused more harm than good in terms of conservation. Herzog interviews an Alaskan local who bluntly says he “got what he deserved”. But as we go through each passing day of the current climate disaster, maybe we need someone like Timothy to stand up to authority and scream and shout about what they believe in. Yes, he was naive in his techniques, but he raised the issue of poaching in the area, and I believe his videos successfully show the animals in a different light than many were accustomed to at the time. As a filmmaker he captured some of the most beautiful wildlife imagery I’ve ever seen. Not just distant cinematography that you could get in any Planet Earth series, but close-up shots of foxes and their cubs running around him, stealing his hat, rolling around in the grass. His love for these animals cannot be denied, and it’s such a shame that his way of life caught up with him in the end.
Was Timothy Treadwell a conservation saint or just an unethical pre-YouTube vlogger? It’s tough to say, but I believe he truly cared about the bears in this area and used the skills at his disposal to try to shine a light on the subject. If, on the way there, he got the approval and fame from the public who had shunned him his whole life, then that was just a happy accident for him. Ahead of his time by such a small window, perhaps Timothy could have become the Steve Irwin of bears—if only he’d been a little more careful.
Words by Jordon Searle
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I haven’t watched this one, I’ll give it a look!