Werner Herzog on His New 3-D Movie, Death Row Future and the Myth of Independent Film

The 3-D movie renaissance receives a rare art-house shot in the arm this week thanks to none other than Werner Herzog, the prolific, eminently curious filmmaker who gets stereoscopic with his new movie Cave of Forgotten Dreams. Herzog takes viewers on a rare journey inside France's dank, dark Chauvet cave, where 30,000-year-old wall paintings -- the oldest known to civilization -- relate an ancient culture's stirring visions of art and nature.

So why employ 3-D to convey 2-D images? That's just one of the answers Movieline sought from in a freewheeling conversation that covered everything from Cave to albino crocodiles to Hollywood detours to indie myths to the project that will next take Herzog to death row.

I liked this film, though I've got to admit: This 3-D... I always get a headache.

Oh? You're one of the very few ones because it's so quietly narrated. But you will have the privilege soon to see it in 2-D as well.

What's been your reaction to the 3-D in general?

Everybody -- with the exception of you, so far -- loves it in 3-D. And of course, it may be the only film document in the long, foreseeable future. It was of course imperative to do it in 3-D, because the painters at that time utilized the drama of the formations. And because of that it makes a lot of sense to show it in 3-D. Otherwise, I personally am still a mild skeptic of 3-D.

Did you hesitate at first, then, to do this in 3-D?

Initially, yes. I didn't really consider to do it in 3-D until the moment I was allowed into the cave without camera or anything for one hour. I insisted on seeing what the technical situation would be -- how we would move, what sort of equipment we could carry around there. And the moment I was in the cave it was clear that it had to be in 3-D.

As a filmmaker, how does that kind of technological shift affect the relationship between you and your subject?

You always have to deal with technology; in this case it was specific. You see, I've never made a 3-D film, and if you gave me a lot of money to recreate one of my earlier films in 3-D, I wouldn't do it. My next project is not in 3-D, and the next projects that I can foresee so far are not going to be in 3-D either. But in this case it was specific. It was clear. And of course you have to settle in with the idea, and shooting in 3-D with a crew of three -- or, with me included, four -- was not easy because normally you need a lot of backup and technical support, and we had to deal with it inside the cave.

How do you choose your subjects?

I don't choose my subjects. They somehow come at me.

They come at you?

Like the burglars in the night. It's not that I'm looking at the New York Times bestseller list and I'm saying, "Ah, yeah, this is doing particularly well. Can I transform it into a movie?" I've never been that kind of a filmmaker. And in fact I've never had a career -- which means planning and organizing your career. I've always just tried to keep abreast from all sides -- the pushing ahead of ideas and projects.

But when you say they "come at you"--

I have never invited them.

How do you know which you have to make?

I think anyone would have known. When you look at a project like Grizzly Man, the moment I saw it, I knew this was big. And Cave -- this was big. It had to be done. And more so, it had to be done by me.

What about your narratives? Like Rescue Dawn [which was adapted from Herzog's 1998 documentary Little Dieter Needs to Fly]?

Same thing. Same thing.

Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans?

Yes. Though that's an exception because I didn't write the screenplay. Normally I write the screenplay. But the screenplay was very, very intense, and very well-written, and I had the freedom to modify a lot. So... It's not really too much choice that I have. There's limited choice.

What about the individuals in the films? Do they come at you as well, say, during research?

No. There was not much research. I went there at a time when all of the scientists were allowed together into the cave -- during spring, for three weeks or so. And of course, I have them on camera, and I like them, and I like their findings, and I have to make a quick assessment of the situation.

How do you do that?

[Long pause] I think it's an understanding and knowledge that would be good in movies. It's something you can't learn at film school. You have to have it in you. Of course, certain people are indispensable, like someone who explains archeological findings. You have to have an archaeologist. Then all of the sudden some wild characters invade the film, like the Master Perfumer. People like him fine. And then all of the sudden it's albino crocodiles -- but only as a postscript.

I love the albino crocodiles.

Everyone does!

Why can't they have their own film? Even a short or something?

Well, you have to be cautious with some things, like the cave, or the origins of the modern human soul -- something of really great, momentous importance. You just don't weave into this story of albino crocodiles in it. It had to be a postscript. But it's connected to the film because it has to do with perception. How do we perceive these images? How did Paleolithic man perceive at his time, and how would crocodiles spreading out in the future perceive images that they would find in the Chauvet cave. So of course there's a deeper thought behind all this wild science-fiction surrealism. The surrealism is only at the surface. There's a more substantial question behind it, and audiences love to... You see, if you propose this to a Hollywood studio, they would call security. They would take you out in a straitjacket. But audiences appreciate that they are being taken on a wild ride of imagination and surrealism and storytelling -- the joy of storytelling! They all love it.

Do you think that you would ever do a studio film?

Depending on the story, yes. Why not? However, I have never really felt really comfortable in a studio when I visited a studio. It felt a little bit too artificial, too well-organized. Too many corporate identities and corporate decisions about every line of dialogue. Do I don't feel too comfortable. But I could make a studio film if I had a real big story for a studio film. Yes, I would do it.

Don't you think you've achieved or attained a level of freedom that would insulate you from that?

Yes, because I'm self-reliant. Not completely, but mostly. But it has cost a lot of tornadoes to brave and a lot of physical energy going into it and time wasted to become my own producer, raising the finances myself. Sometimes even earning my finances myself -- working the night shift as a welder in a steel factory. But it made me self-reliant. Because there's no such thing as independent cinema. It doesn't exist. It's a myth.

It is?

Of course it is.

But you just said you work independently.

You're always dependent on finances and distribution systems and theaters and you name it. The only authentic independent cinema is your home movie of last Christmas, or of your beach vacations in Hawaii. That is independent cinema. And the audience is your family.

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