My Best Fiend

I finished off the Herzog/Kinski box set with My Best Fiend, about his relationship with Kinski. It's a fascinating subject; leaving you with as many questions as answers. Herzog describes himself as 'clinically sane', the opposite of Kinski, but it's clear that the two nourished each other, producing their finest work together.
I first saw Kinski in 1965 in Dr Zhivago, though of course I didn't realise it at the time! I was 14 when my mother took me to see it (she had a special fondness for big-screen epics, and we went to see them all in those days). I was old enough (14) to appreciate Kinski's presence - he played a prisoner being shipped off to some unspecified gulag, presumably in Siberia, in the cattle truck transporting Zhivago and his family east after the Revolution. He was an extraordinary presence, and he made a great impression on me.
Anyway, he reappeared in 5 Herzog films, and, looking at his CV on the IMDB, it's clear that, although worked continuosly from 1948 right up to his death in 1991, he really made very little of note outside his work with Herzog; only potboilers. In spite of their tempestuous relationship, they sparked something off in each other, though, as Herzog says, the relationship burnt itself out with Cobra Verde, and it's clear that, while Kinski may have needed Herzog, Herzog didn't need Kinski.
The final scenes are wonderful - Nosferatu lingers over the Isabelle Adjani's body, and morning breaks. The vampire goes to the window and he crumples in the sunlight. Herzog presents the scene as a metaphor for Kinski's life. The film ends on some home-movie footage of Kinski - a butterfly fluuters around him, resting, almost caressing his hand. There's a look of sheer delight on Kinski's face, and as Herzog comments, the butterfly 'doesn't want to leave him'. IThe film finishes on this enchanting scene, and Herzog leaves us with this wholly benign picture of an actor who was demonic, but capable of a rare beauty.