It tells us the history that conquest and the arrival in new lands have always been moments of both fascination and violence, of discovery and domination. “AGUIRRE: THE WRATH OF GOD” (1972) by Werner Herzog and “THE NEW WORLD” (2005) by Terrence Malick explore, in distinct yet complementary ways, this tension between the impulse to conquer and the inevitable transformation that arises from encountering the unknown. Both films depict vast and lush landscapes that are not merely backdrops but living forces that test, shape, and ultimately unravel those who dare to enter them.

Aguirre leads a Spanish expedition in search of the mythical city of gold, but what begins as a mission of exploration quickly descends into a feverish nightmare of unbridled ambition. In “THE NEW WORLD”, the confrontation between English settlers and the Indigenous peoples of Virginia reveals dynamics that fluctuate between coexistence and conflict, a delicate dance between wonder and the imposition of a new order. In both cases, the arrival is not merely physical but also spiritual: whoever approaches a new land must question their stance toward what they find. Is there respect for the existing balance, or merely a blind desire to shape it in their own image? The encounter with the Other is inevitable. But what happens next? In “AGUIRRE: THE WRATH OF GOD”, the relationship with those who already inhabit the land is reduced to subjugation, disdain, and violence. Malick’s film, on the other hand, presents a more subtle interplay, where proximity and mistrust intertwine, leaving open the possibility of mutual understanding. The question remains: is a fruitful relationship possible between those who arrive and those who were already there, or is history doomed to repeat the same cycle of invasion and destruction?

None of the agents involved in these stories remain unchanged. Driven by ambition, Aguirre spirals into his own madness, dragging his followers down with him. The English settlers who arrive in America undergo a slow metamorphosis—both in how they perceive that land and in how the land transforms them. For those who arrive, the land is never just a space to be conquered—it is also a mirror of their own human condition, revealing both greatness and frailty. If, in the 16th century, conquerors advanced driven by promises of wealth and glory, today’s expansionist impulses are not so different. World leaders who justify attacks and invasions in the name of progress or national sovereignty are not far removed from Aguirre’s mentality. The logic of domination continues to be fueled by the same fever, though it now manifests under different banners and pretexts. The cinema of Herzog and Malick thus places us before an unsettling mirror: what have we truly learned from history?

The question of sovereignty emerges powerfully in both films. Who has the right to the land? The one who has always lived there, or the one who claims it by force? Here, cinema does not offer simple answers but rather invites a closer examination of the contradictions of power, rights, and belonging. The New World suggests a nearly poetic vision of the land as a space of possible communion, while Aguirre brutally dismantles the illusion of possession. Ultimately, what these narratives reveal is that conquest is always an ephemeral illusion. Leaders and explorers may believe they dominate nature and the peoples who inhabit it, but true power belongs to time, to the rivers that flow, and to the forests that grow indifferent to human delusions. If anything endures, it is the land—and the memory of the wounds left by those who arrived without understanding that they could never truly possess it.

In this film cycle, viewers are invited to embark on these cinematic journeys, which, though separated by centuries and distinct styles, engage in a profound dialogue about the same essential dilemmas. Between the fever of conquest and human frailty, between the clash of civilizations and inevitable transformation, Herzog and Malick offer not only stories of the past but also urgent questions about the present.

(Curatorship of Alexandre Braga)