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.
Do you resent the branding of "independent cinema"? The indie ghetto, or whatever?
I don't care. I couldn't care less whatever is branded. I simply say independent cinema is a myth. Whoever wants to call himself or herself "independent," let it be.
What do you think about shift among distributors toward VOD? Would you be comfortable with your movies only being available on demand?
It is all in gestation. We do not know exactly where we are heading because there's this huge shift of preferences of audiences of ways to distribute films.. However, for me, the mother of all battles has always been reaching the theaters. An audience -- a collective audience -- that comes out of their homes, goes to a theater, pays for a ticket, and sees a film collectively. That's the mother of all battles, and it's going to stay for quite a time. At least for me. Otherwise, whatever is emerging in film on demand and digital possibilities to exchange movies -- the very large plasma screen where you can invite a dozen friends to your home -- we don't have a clear concept. We do not know where it's going to take us.
Would you be comfortable with someone watching this movie on a 3-D TV?
[Pause] Yes, it would be OK. But I still prefer to show the same film in the theater.
What is your favorite film of yours?
I don't have a favorite. I love them all.
Is there a least favorite? Or one you'd do over?
No. I wouldn't. I would never touch anything I've left behind. Let it be, with all the mistakes in it. There's not a single film that doesn't have little defects -- and some of them have larger defects. But as a mother, you love the children with the stutter and the squint and the limp more than the others. So I would be more defensive.
So you'd prefer the imperfect ones?
Yes. Well, I would defend them more. I would pay more attention. But I'm not one of those who goes back and back to his films and tries to improve them and re-edit them and toil over them and ruminate over the films. Let it be! You send them out like children; they have to live their own life, as defective as they may be.
[Publicist gives the signal to wrap interview up]
That's always so unnerving.
It's mysterious.
What's your interview process like? Do you have a philosophy or a strategy?
Well, obviously I want to have a conversation. Like you -- you don't have a catalog of questions prepared. I'm doing a film right now with death-row inmates, and I come without any written questions.
How have you developed that technique?
I think I've become better than in earlier years -- the way I'm really deeply looking into the heart of men. It's different than before -- in decades before. And it's not a surprise to me that every single death-row inmate wants to see me again. And I'm sitting three feet away, and I tell them, for example -- point blank: "The fact that I sympathize with a certain aspect of your legal appeal does not mean that I like you." You see, nobody ever speaks to them like this.
How do they respond?
They can immediately see from miles away if somebody's phony. Or if somebody's trying to bullshit them. I'm such a straight shooter, and I tell them point blank, "It does not necessarily mean that I like you." They've never heard this before. Since they're on death row, they've never heard it.
What's the context of your comment, though, in the film?
Let's not talk about it. It's still in gestation. I just started editing.
Does it have a title?
Death Row. Yes.
What's happening with your film school these days?
I just had one recently in London. It's like a traveling circus -- it doesn't have one locale. I can do it somewhere in an open field in New Jersey in the middle of cows. I could assemble everyone there.
How would that work?
Probably not easily, because I need... It's helpful to have a screen and some kind of projection possibility so I can show some of their films and point out where are the weak points: "What did you overlook here? Why is your sound so neglected?" Or whatever. In fact, I had a Rogue Film School not in New York, but in New Jersey. Near Newark Airport -- in one of those airport hotels where I rent a conference room and I make a deal that they have to pay something like $65 for a room per night. If I had done it here in New York, you don't get away for under $350 a night.
So you did an airport hotel?
I did an airport hotel. Just recently -- it was a year ago or so. And I recently had a Rogue Film School in London, but just outside of London, again near an airport. But as I said, I can do it in an open field, or in a quarry or wherever I choose.
Do you think they've been successful?
Yes. For pretty much every one of them -- or many of them -- it's life-deciding. Because it's not just about movies. It's about a way of life with cinema. Many of them team up. One of the things I postulate is to form secret Rogue cells everywhere. They team up; there are six teams out there from Rogue schools who make feature films right now.
What have you learned or taken away from it?
I don't learn anything; I pass on what I've understood and learned. What is happening I can explain very easily: I'm disappointed at what you learn in film schools. I think it's not the right thing. And in the last two decades, there has been a steady and increasing avalanche of young people who want to learn from me and be my assistant. And I try to give it an organized answer. And the amount of people who want to converge where I'm talking... You could see it in London at the Royal Festival Hall, which has a capacity of almost 3,000. It sells out in 11 minutes. So there is a huge amount -- a really huge amount of people converging to hear me, and I know I can pass on certain things. I just try to find an organized answer.