1 A 2005
documentary about
the doomed, naïve
environmental
activist Timothy
Treadwell.2 ‘‘Wheel of Time’’
(2003), about
Tibetan Buddhism.3 Herzog’s
documentaries
unabashedly
and movingly feature
invented scenes
and dialogue.4 During an interview
with the BBC in
2006, Herzog was
shot by an unknown
assailant with an
air rifle. His response
to the wound was
a classic of resigned
stoicism: ‘‘It’s
not significant.’’5 Herzog had
a legendarily
combative, yet
creatively fruitful,
relationship with
the volatile actor,
who starred
in five of his films.6 Herzog co-starred
as the villain in
this 2012 action film.7 Herzog played
an ominous
figure who hires
the title character
to hunt down a
creature that looks
like a baby Yoda.8 Which, of course,
is a central plot point
in ‘‘Fitzcarraldo’’
(1982). Herzog and
his crew figured
out a way to drag
a ship over a jungle
mountain, though
at a cost — multiple
crew members were
seriously injured.9 Herzog’s 1971 film
consists mostly of
a series of images of
the African desert.
He has described
how he and the
crew were imprisoned
during filming as
a result of mistaken
identity. He
also contracted
the parasitic
disease bilharzia.21was him? Yes, although he was upside
down in this car, squished between air-
bags that had deployed and wildly try-
ing to light a cigarette.
That could be an image from one of your
fi lms. I knew he must not light his ciga-
rette, because there was gasoline dripping
and he would have perished in a fi reball.
So I tried to be clearly commandeering
to him and tell him not to. But I was wor-
ried that if you gave him a command, he
would strike his lighter even harder. So I
managed to snatch the cigarette lighter
from his hand. Then it became completely
clear that it was Joaquin. But I didn’t want
to speak to him after. I saw he wanted to
come over and thank me. I just drove off.
You’ve made 60- something fi lms. Over- But let’s not be pedantic.
It’s a lot of fi lms, and so many of them
involve adventures — fi lming in the jun-
gle, at the edge of a volcano, in Antarc-
tica, with Klaus Kinski.^5 These aren’t
easy fi lms to shoot or fi nance, yet you
keep fi nding ways to turn these dreams
of yours into reality. Is your ability to do
that a matter of will? No, no, no. In many
cases, I have not invited the fi lms that
I’m doing: They manifested themselves.
‘‘Aguirre, the Wrath of God’’ — after read-
ing 15 lines from a book for 12-year-old
boys, I started writing in a fever while I was
on a bus with my soccer team, who were
all drunk. I could see the entire fi lm. I’ve
hardly ever written longer than fi ve days
on a screenplay because of the vehemence
with which these projects come at me.
You’ve acted in some big pop- culture
projects, like ‘‘Jack Reacher’’^6 and ‘‘The
Mandalorian,’’^7 but you basically rarely
intersect with the mainstream. How do
you see your relationship to Hollywood?
I enjoy being marginally involved. Just a
few days ago, I did some voice recording
for a ‘‘Simpsons’’ episode, and I did it in
such a wild way. So wild that the director
and some people who sat with me in the
room burst out laughing before I ended my
line. I had to be relegated into the control
room, because twice in a row they started
laughing. I said, ‘‘Gentlemen, I have not
even fi nished my line yet.’’ In a way, ‘‘The
Simpsons’’ is a bold intellectual design.
Here’s what I was really getting at:
You’ve previously expressed a belief
that culture needs fresh images to feed
our imaginations. Almost by design,
projects like ‘‘Jack Reacher’’ or ‘‘The
Mandalorian’’ involve recycled imagery.
Do you feel at all confl icted about work-
ing on them? I don’t have to reconcile
anything. I love everything that has to do
with cinema, and that means writing a
screenplay or directing, editing, acting. I
love it and, by the way, when doing ‘‘Jack
Reacher,’’ I knew I would bring a specif-
ic quality for spreading fear among the
audience. That was my quest. I wanted
to spread fear. My character was blind in
one eye with no fi ngers left on his hands
and no weapon. It was only me and my
voice, and I really did scare audiences.
And I was paid for it handsomely.
Whether you’re consciously participat-
ing in its creation or not, there’s a comi-
cally dour ‘‘Werner Herzog’’ persona out
there. Is there any way in which having a
publicly identifi able persona is valuable?
I live parallel existences out in the internet
that are completely and utterly fi ctitious.
Since I have worked in an unusual way
and have lived in a kind of unusual way,
of course the world reacts by attributing
a certain persona to me. I can live with it.
Opposite page: New World Pictures/Photo I know who I am. That’s enough.
fest. This page, from top: Lionsgate/
Everett Collection; Disney+/Lucasfilm/Everett Collection.I like a lot of your fi lms very much, but
the most inspiring thing about you is
your ability to keep envisioning these
fantastical projects and then actually
make them. Is there any advice you
can give about how to do that? Do the
doable. I do only the doable, including
moving a ship over a mountain.^8 But I’ve
had very diffi cult shoots, and nobody
knows about it. Much more diffi cult
than ‘‘Fitzcarraldo.’’ Like ‘‘Fata Morga-
na.’’^9 I think it’s a very irrelevant crite-
rion for Herzog to be, for example, the
fi rst barefoot runner on Mount Everest.
I won’t be, because that would be stupid.
But moving a ship over a mountain is
not stupid. It’s a big, big, big metaphor,
although I don’t know for what. I know
it’s a memory that has been dormant
inside many of us.
It’s a collective dream that was
manifested? Yes, and I’m the one who
articulated it.Th is interview has been edited and condensed
for clarity from two conversations.