Stalking Klaus Kinski or How I Worshiped a Madman

by Kimberly Lindbergs | October 18, 2009

Categories | Rants & Raves, Actors, Klaus Kinski

Klaus Kinski b. October 18, 1926 - d. November 23, 1991

Today would have been Klaus Kinski’s 83rd birthday and in honor of the event I thought I’d share something I wrote about the actor back in 2003 on Valentine’s Day.*

“One should judge a man mainly from his depravities. Virtues can be faked. Depravities are real.” - Klaus Kinski

I don’t get star-struck often. There are only a few celebrities that can make me weak-kneed and slack-jawed and one of them is the deceased, but not forgotten actor, Klaus Kinski.

When Klaus appears in a film it’s impossible to take your eyes off of him. He always manages to steal whatever scene he’s in. He’s not conventionally beautiful or typically handsome, but his face is a remarkable canvas that seems to exude life itself. You can see the poverty Klaus suffered as a child, the time he spent in asylums and prisons, his unhinged sexuality, passion for life and unbridled anger pouring out of his eyes and every pore of his ragged skin. Real or imagined, this is a man who lived and loved life. The myth of Klaus Kinski the actor and Klaus Kinski the man are one and the same. And I fell in-love with the whole package.

I watched Klaus in many movies while I growing up and I was always awe-struck by his presence. He appeared in countless horror films, thrillers and great spaghetti westerns throughout the ’60s and ’70s that ran on television when I was a kid and I couldn’t help but notice him. He was unlike anyone else. By the time I was a teenager I had seen at least 10 or 15 of Klaus Kinski’s films and I knew him by name. Klaus became one of my favorite performers and I started to actively seek out the movies he had appeared in whenever they played on television.

When I discovered Werner Herzog’s films in the late ’80s my interest in Klaus Kinski turned into a minor obsession. Herzog is an amazing director and his films with Kinski such as Aguirre, Wrath of God (1972), Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979), Woyzeck (1979), Fitzcarraldo (1982) and Cobra Verde (1987) are all incredible movies that managed to capture Kinski’s unrestrained personality and exploit his limitless acting talents to their fullest. I was also lucky enough to get my hands on a copy of Klaus Kinski’s autobiography in the late ’80s. Reading about Kinski in his own words was an eye-opening experience. His autobiography is a fascinating, lust-filled rant that is impossible to forget and to this day it remains one of the best biographies I’ve ever had the pleasure to read.

I didn’t have access to the internet or eBay back in the ‘80s so I had to satisfy my cravings for more Kinski by trying to locate films he had appeared in on video that were available at local rental shops. I also tried to buy posters for films that Klaus appeared in, but that wasn’t an easy task. I did manage to get my hands on a poster for Aguirre, Wrath of God, which hung proudly on my wall announcing to anyone who noticed it that I was a card-carrying member of the Klaus Kinski fanclub.

In the summer of 1991 I was an impetuous and slightly naive young woman living with two friends who both worked at a local video store. I occasionally did part-time work there myself whenever I needed a few extra bucks. It was a popular place for film fanatics and it had one of the best selections of videos for rent in the entire Bay Area. Colorful locals like director George Lucas were regular customers as well as other filmmakers who lived in the area such as Terry Zwigoff and Les Blank. When news got to me that Les Blank had started visiting the store on a regular basis I got really excited. I knew Les had worked with both Herzog and Kinski so I tried bumping into the director on the days the staff thought he might show up, but it never happened. I didn’t have a car so when I got a call telling me Les was at the video store I could never get their quickly enough. Finally I got word in the late summer of 1991 that Les Blank had casually mentioned that Klaus Kinski was actually staying in the area for awhile. Then another customer who owned an art supply store in town started casually mentioning that a “creepy” German actor actor named Klaus Kinski was coming in regularly to buy art supplies at her shop. When this all got reported back to me I flipped out! It seems that in his later years Klaus spent a lot of his free time in the Bay Area focusing on his art. With this new information handed to me I became determined to meet Mr. Kinski.

I started going to the art supply store where Klaus Kinski was a regular customer whenever I could. I hung around aimlessly thumbing through books like How to Sketch a Nude for hours hoping that Klaus would suddenly appear. I don’t know what I expected to happen if I did see him. I imagined throwing myself at his feet and telling him how much I worshiped him even though I was sure that he would laugh at my groveling behavior. Maybe I hoped we’d end up at his Lagunitas home and get drunk on too much red wine while we talked for hours about art, cinema, sex and life? Most likely I just wished that he would make crazy violent love to me right there in the art supply store and in the end of our passionate encounter we’d be covered in paints, pastels and charcoal while the other customers looked on in disbelief. Unfortunately whatever I dreamed up in my imagination never happened.

For almost two months I hung around the art supply store waiting for Klaus to show up. The store owner was tolerant of me since I was the only person in her small shop most of the time and she was somewhat aware of my fascination with “creepy” Kinski. On one occasion I was told I had missed him by only 20 minutes. On another day I was told he had come in a day earlier. Then one day the shop owner finally told me that she had not seen Kinski for a week and thought he might have left town. I was devastated. But I didn’t give up and throughout the rest of the summer I occasionally stopped by the art supply shop hoping Klaus would suddenly materialize there. I was sure that something of him had stayed behind amid the paint fumes and paper remnants.

My quest to meet Klaus Kinski finally came to a sad end when I got word that he had died on November 23, 1991. It really pained me at the time since only weeks before I had been so close to meeting him. But now I knew that was never going to happen. I still feel slightly close to Klaus whenever I see one of his films or watch him go head-to-head with Werner Herzog in My Best Fiend. Maybe it’s because I nearly met him? Or maybe it’s because I can understand Herzog’s appreciation and fascination with his friend since in some very small way I experienced it myself?

I’ve never stalked a celebrity before and I will never do it again. But I have no regrets about trying to meet Klaus Kinski during that long hot summer of ‘91. I think Klaus would have appreciated my harmless determination and mad devotion.

“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.” - Nietzsche

Klaus Kinski in San Francisco

For more on Klaus Kinski I highly recommend visiting Dan Taylor’s terrific site The On-Line Guide to Klaus Kinski!

* An edited version of this piece was originally published in my Livejournal blog on Feb. 14, 2003.