Cave of Forgotten Dreams

Chauvet Cave, in southern France, is the home of cave paintings dating back as far as 32,000 years ago. Once a year, a small group of specialists in various fields is allowed entrance for a few weeks to study the cave. Werner Herzog received exclusive access to join these scientists to film his 2010 documentary Cave of Forgotten Dreams. The film is widely known for having been filmed in 3D, a last-minute decision Herzog came to after visiting the cave. I only viewed the non-3D version, however, there were other aspects I found notable, particularly in Herzog’s narration and interview style.

With a crew of three and only a few hours each day to shoot, the footage at first takes on a stalking peer-over-the-shoulder view of the cave, as scientists are at work or guiding the crew. Much of the film is comprised of interviews with these experts. It is no wonder that these interviews convey a palpable sense of reverence, considering the age of the miraculously preserved paintings and the exclusive opportunity to be there in person. It is easy to imagine that for all present the cave is hallowed ground. Herzog accentuates this. As these experts attempt to reconstruct for us who the cave painters were, Herzog prods for their own personal impressions of the cave. The result does not so much familiarize ourselves with who these scientists are, but rather reminds us of the inescapable, daydreaming facet of scientific investigation and conjecture, made especially acute in the provocative presence of Chauvet Cave.

The soundtrack is both haunting and mystical.  Likewise, Herzog’s pensive narration, though filled with the facts and figures one would expect, takes on a philosophical emphasis, pondering the massive barrier of time between those studying the cave and those who left the paintings there. Visually, the film mostly keeps its focus on the ancient art and natural formations both in the cave and the surrounding area. Occasionally there is a visit to someone’s office. As the film comes to its conclusion, the paintings take full focus in a montage making me remiss not seeing the film in 3D. There is no narration during these 7 minutes; the only audio is the soundtrack which is gradually replaced by the beating of a heart.  It’s a meditative sequence where the camera attentively explores the cave walls, and the viewer is left alone with their thoughts and impressions of the paintings. At this point I was thoroughly satisfied to have this be the closing scene of the film, letting the images speak for themselves.

Then there is a postscript that is both bold and frustrating. Herzog directs the viewer’s attention away from the cave to a greenhouse for hundreds of crocodiles some twenty miles away.  Perhaps this dramatic change in scenery is to escape the oppressive confines of the cave or to place it in a larger context beyond the prehistoric. Whatever the reason, the camera settles upon two albino crocodiles, and Herzog’s narration morphs into increasingly poetic prose, each sentence more opaquely clouding his meaning. It would be fair, I believe, to say this scene is a highly pretentious distraction, jarringly stuck on the end of the film. But to his credit, Herzog executes it with such confidence that it left a provocative impact on me. It employs a dreamlike logic that isn’t absent from the rest of the film but is taken to an extreme. It is highly fanciful in suggesting that these albino crocodiles mark an evolutionary step towards crocodiles one day encountering the cave as humans encounter it, but it possibly raises the pertinent question of anthropocentric needs and prejudices, as we gaze back toward our distant ancestors.

-Whitman Craig