In “Herzog on Herzog,” a book-length collection of interviews, German director Werner Herzog once explained the origin of his most famous film, “Aguirre, the Wrath of God” (1972). As “Aguirre” (which is being shown this Sunday at 3 p.m. at Symphony Space) takes place on a crowded raft floating down a rising Peruvian river, his comments might give insight into something more than merely the setting for the film’s inception:

Most of the screenplay was written on a bus going to Vienna with the football team I used to play for. We were a few hours into the trip, and everyone was drunk already, because we had some beer barrels to give to our opponents. But the team had drunk half of it before we had even arrived. I was sitting in my seat with my typewriter on my lap. Our goalie was leaning over me and was so drunk that he finally vomited over my typewriter. Some of the pages were beyond repair, and I had to throw them out the window. There were some fine scenes, but they are long gone. That is life on the road for you. Later on, in between the games, I wrote furiously for three days and finished the script.

From its stunning opening – an eye-of-God shot that moves through a slowly clearing fog and down upon a line of Spanish soldiers trekking through the jungle – to its mystifying conclusion, when all but one of that raft’s passengers have been replaced by a swarm of monkeys – “Aguirre” is never less than compelling and often mesmerizing. Inspired by historical records from the 16th century, the story is simple enough – the doomed quest of a small party of mutinous conquistadores in search of the golden city of El Dorado.

It is not the hubris of bumbling imperialists that makes “Aguirre” so memorable, but what Mr. Herzog shows us along the way – the raging river, the sleepy sloth, the boat in the tree, the serenity of undiscovered country. And then there is the chaos behind the chaos: his struggle to make this film on a tiny budget in a dangerous location with a cast of hundreds.

Most of all, though, there is Polish actor Klaus Kinski as Aguirre, in the first of several appearances that he made for Mr. Herzog. For much of “Aguirre,” Kinski does very little: He’s either looking off into the distance or whispering sweet nothings to his teenage daughter. Only gradually is it revealed that Aguirre is the scheming force behind everything that happens.When he calls for mutiny, his fellow soldiers obey not because they agree with him, but because they fear him. Foolishly they follow – and for the same reason that the audience does: They’re afraid to turn away. Kinski’s unpredictable performance is unusual and spontaneous. Often, like when he punches a horse to get it out of his way, it’s difficult to know if he’s acting – or if Mr. Herzog, as crafty as he can be, simply kept the camera rolling. Perverse or not, one of the main fascinations of the film is this mystery of Kinski’s rage and the suspense of waiting to see when and how his next outburst will surface.

In the past year, three of Mr. Herzog’s most recent works – the documentaries “Wheel of Time” (2003), “The White Diamond” (2004), and the Oscar-nominated “Grizzly Man” (2005) – have been treated to theatrical runs in New York. Each of the films features protagonists possessed by particular obsessions. In “Wheel of Time,” it’s the Buddhist’s search for enlightenment; in “The White Diamond,” it’s a man’s guilt over the death of a colleague and the redemption he offers by perfecting a new kind of weather-tracking dirigible; in “Grizzly Man,” it’s the Alaskan big bear. Given Mr. Herzog’s indefatigable curiosity, it’s always a great surprise to discover what his next film will be. “I stumble into these things,”Mr.Herzog has said. “Or rather, these characters – like Aguirre or Kaspar Hauser or Timothy Treadwell – they stumble into me. I’m not searching for them. I never have looked for what I’d do next. They find me. The stories find me. The characters find me.”

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