TIFF22: Theater of Thought
Early in Theater of Thought, in the laboratories of IBM, Senior Vice President and Director of Research Darío Gil explains qubits and quantum computing to Werner Herzog, who is standing behind the camera. He starts writing a mathematical equation on the whiteboard that explains the vast processing capabilities of the computer, only for Werner Herzog to fade out the sound and interrupt in voiceover that he had no idea what Gil was talking about but was nevertheless fascinated by the implications of the computer’s capabilities.
Such is the approach of Herzog’s latest documentary, Theater of Thought, which jumps from topic to topic in exploring the science of the mind and the implications of neuroscientific breakthroughs of the last few decades. It’s scattershot, rambling, hilarious, and poetic, less interested in answers than in asking questions about life and reality and the philosophical implications of advanced technology. Welcome to the mind of Werner Herzog.
The film was made at the behest of neuroscientist Rafael Yuste, a friend of Herzog’s who encouraged him to make a movie about the science of the mind. So Herzog does what he does best, which is follow his instincts and globe hop around the world to talk to scientists and technicians at the forefront of this emerging science.
But Herzog has little interest in the actual science of the brain. The scientists want to talk specifics, but he wants to talk about generalities. He has no interest in the mathematical possibilities of a qubit, but is fascinated with the question of whether computers can mimic the human brain. He talks to two industry-leading mathematicians who happen to be married and prods them about the meaning of music and how it affects the brain. They seem baffled by his choice of interview topic. He chats with a leading neuroscientist right after his morning row. He observes a brain surgery and marvels at how pain comes from a little white blob inside the skull.
Herzog’s idiosyncratic approach to non-fiction cinema is one of the joys of watching his films—or the glory of moviemaking in general, as Herzog explained in his in-person introduction prior to the screening. (The film even opens with an epigraph ascribed to Chuck Berry, but entirely made up by Herzog. The man can’t help himself from putting a bit of the ecstatic truth into every work he makes.) He follows his interests in the moment and makes the act of watching a movie feel improvised and spontaneous.
Of course, there are drawbacks to such an approach. For instance, you won’t come away from Theater of Thought with a much deeper understanding of neuroscience. The film offers an overview of the topic and a selection of different ways that scientists are studying and manipulating the brain, but it never goes deeper than an intro to any single topic. If you want rigorous scientific filmmaking, look elsewhere.
But then why are you watching a Herzog film in the first place? The pleasure of his documentaries is that he doesn’t pretend to be an expert. He’s the eternal searcher, asking, probing, letting the spirit move him to make hilarious inquiries or put world-leading thinkers on the spot. He’s also a pleasure to listen to. I can think of no other filmmaker whose voice, with its particular tenor and pacing and iconic Bavarian accent, is so essential to the success of his works. And he’s hilarious, with sharp comedic timing and a rich sense of humour. Herzog’s penchant for holding the frame and continuing recording at the end of interviews way past the comfort levels of the interviewees never ceases to amuse.
At other moments, he affects a ponderous obliviousness and plays it for laughs. When he talks to one of the developers of Siri, he asks him, “How stupid is Siri?” and proceeds to get distracted by the scuba diving footage projecting on a screen in the back of the room. He follows the footage with a tangent in which he asks us in voiceover whether fish have souls and whether we’ll ever know what goes on in their minds. It’s a bit pretentious, a bit ponderous, and absolutely hilarious in that earnestly poetic way that is quintessentially Herzogian.
Theater of Thought is a lot of fun, even if it’s more akin to Lo and Behold: Reveries of a Connected World than Grizzly Man or even his recent Fireball: Visitors from Darker Worlds. It is not one of his great documentaries, as the landscape of the subject matter is not as perfectly suited to Herzog’s strengths as a director. For instance, the visuals of the film are forgettable. Part of this is Herzog self-funding much of the film and shooting on a threadbare budget with a small crew during the pandemic. But it’s also that his poetic style is less suited to offices and laboratories than jungles or volcanoes.
There’s no visual sweep to Theater of the Thought because there’s no natural majesty to document. Thus, the film is delightful in its own way, but there’s a disconnect between Herzog and the setting, since he cannot make a camera capture the inner workings of a brain and so is left to deal with the humdrum environments of laboratories and universities. He has to make movies “the old fashioned way,” as he says in voiceover, and when he does so, he’s got to use the tools available to him, which are limited in this case.
Still, there is far more character and idiosyncrasy in its approach than most of the documentaries that flood the streaming services each week. As a documentarian, Herzog is enamoured with the process of making movies and meeting people and watching them on camera. He’s not all that enamoured of facts, but rather with the process of uncovering them.
Therefore, Theater of Thought is more about displaying the theatre of Herzog’s thought than actually exploring the science of the mind. It is a detour into Herzog’s brain and the way he approaches a subject matter and views the world. Like all detours, it may not take you where you think you’re going, but with Herzog guiding the way, the journey’s still a pleasure.
6 out of 10
Theater of Thought (2022, USA)
Directed by Werner Herzog.
Francis Ford Coppola's strange political fable is an absurd, admirable moonshot of a film.