Jungle imagery frames a chaotic football environment of bruises, delays and relentless obstacles. Transfer uncertainty abounds: Rasmus Hjlund linked to Napoli, Alejandro Garnacho to Chelsea, and persistent local fixtures like Grimsby. Player dynamics include Kobbie Mainoo reportedly wanting to leave while Carlos Baleba desires to join without striking, with time cited as a factor. Media figures and influencers amplify ridicule and pressure, profiting from sensational takes. The scene is compared to Werner Herzog’s hazardous Fitzcarraldo shoot and his self-styled Conquistador of the Useless, casting Ruben Amorim as an obstinate visionary driving ambitious, damaging projects without shortcuts.
Further and deeper into the jungle. Taunted by the quivering vines, mocked by the rubber trees, bitten and bruised by the asphyxiating vileness of nature. Ropes groaning, extras muttering, mud and rock resisting. Rasmus Hjlund to Napoli, maybe tomorrow, maybe not. Alejandro Garnacho to Chelsea, maybe this week, maybe next. Grimsby in the evening. Grim faces in the morning. Kobbie Mainoo wants out.
There will be suffering and there will be ridicule, and there is no shortage of parasites to feed on your corpse. A man on the radio thinks you're a disgrace. An influencer in a padded chair is shouting athleticism in midfield into a webcam. Both are earning handy six figures a year for doing so. The jungle plays tricks on your senses.
Reflecting on the deeply troubled production, during which several crew members were injured and the shoot was marred by delays and screaming rows, Herzog dubbed himself the Conquistador of the Useless, a man driven by allegorical obsession and against his better judgment to see his pointless and morbidly outlandish vision into flesh. Which feels, amid the collateral damage and human wreckage, like a pretty on-the-nose description of Ruben Amorim right now. No special effects, no scale models, no shortcuts; just a fever of warped dreams
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