About two-thirds of the way into Lo and Behold, Reveries of the Connected World, Werner Herzog poses a question to computer experts, chin-stroking philosophers and you, the audience: Does the Internet dream of itself? As far as onscreen queries posed by the legendary German filmmaker, this one doesnt hit the delirious heights of Is there such [a] thing as insanity among penguins? from 2007s Encounters at the End of the World. But delivered in his stern, oft-imitated Teutonic tone, this inquiry is enough to cause the simultaneous giddy grinning and cerebral hemorrhages that Herzogs deep-thought interrogations often inspire not so much headscratchers as brain-exploders.
And on paper, the premise suggests a perfect storm of such moments: an exploration of how the vast, ever-morphing online realm has reflected our best/worst tendencies and affected our species. Talking heads attest to the early days of modem-based networks, worst-case shut-down scenarios involving solar flares, and how gamers helped disease researchers solve helix-based puzzles. We visit Internet-addiction rehab centers, hacker conventions, and Elon Musks sleek office. The Existential Pondering-ometer goes into the red zone. There will be robots.
Werner Herzog on Revenge Porn, Adult Diapers and the Internet's FutureThe Useful Idiots New Guide to the Most Stoned Moments of the 2020 Presidential Campaign'Let It Bleed': Why the Stones' Nastiest Masterpiece Feels Right on Time
Herzog in prime, purple-prose mode (that title!) and what the World Wild Web says about humanitys (d)evolution this should be a surefire combination, and the fact that it provides plenty of food for thought without necessarily giving you a full meal is a bit of a letdown. Presented more like a series of magazine TV show vignettes rather than a comprehensive whole, the documentary pings from topic to topic, announcing each segments intent via chapter titles (IV: The End of the Net). Mileage varies, however, on each semi-deep dive into the good, the bad and the ugly of online culture. Some episodes barely scratch the surface of their creators musings; others, like a visit to the Catsouras family, who were emailed photos of their daughter Nikkis horrific death scene, play out like perfectly encapsulated short films. Some of the hate mail was so unspeakably horrifying that we can not repeat it here, Herzog intones, echoing his infamous Never watch this footage plea from Grizzly Man (2005). The scene he composes of Nikkis parents and sisters sitting silently around a dining room table, platters of muffins and pastries in the foreground, is both eerily banal and breathtaking.
Its sequences like that one that channel vintage Herzog vrit at its best, the sort of ecstatic truth bombs that have made his nonfiction works such essential viewing. Yet the mosaic-style format, while a necessity how else to tackle such a multifaceted topic? doesnt bring out his strengths; a colleague pointed out that the director seems to be making an Errol Morris movie instead of one of his own, and this does feel like an attempt to fashion something along the lines of FastCheap&OutOfControl.org. You still get the occasional batshit proclamation, the bliss of hearing him say lines like the corridors here look re-pul-sive, yet there this one leads to some sort of shrine, and the voyeuristic thrill of listening to brilliant people muse over life, the universe and everything. You just dont get a Big Picture only many tiny ones, all adding up to blurry, lo-res rendering of The Way We Live Online Now.
Posting Komentar
Posting Komentar