Some of the best pure chaos ever put on film. Plotless and full of uncomfortable laughs, this early work from Werner Herzog is a beautiful affront to all things normal. The inmates at an unexplained remote German institution, exclusively populated and run by dwarfs, revolt and turn the place into a kind of Pinocchio’s Pleasure Island of wanton destruction. The story is a series of quick comic episodes. Our diminutive rebels, most of whom look to be in their 40s and 50s, have no plan other than to run wild. They prank the blind dwarfs, they try to romantically fix up the most awkward man and woman in the group, they attempt to firebomb the main office, they rig up a car to uselessly drive itself in a circle, somehow a monkey and a camel show up, and the insect collector lady gets to show off her box of bugs, complete with little hats and clothing that she made for them. It’s a comedy as brisk as it is bizarre, without a dull moment. These characters are jerks and often deranged, but I think Herzog loves every single one of them (much like how Tod Browning obviously loved his cast in Freaks). He shoots them like they’re comedy stars and frames the gags in very simple master shots that, rather than make fun of the actors, treats them like Charlie Chaplin slipping and falling on a skating rink (the black & white photography adds to the effect). It’s a dwarf’s world here, a place where no one can be ordinary even if they tried. Herzog shoves us into it, blocks the exit and then carries us far away on dozens of tiny hands and amid the chirp of squeaky voices.