Dr. Nandor Ludvig’s brief, albeit concentrated, opinion on Werner Herzog’s “Theatre of Thought” reflects his cosmological neuroscientist view on this film

Dr. Nandor Ludvig’s brief, albeit concentrated, reflection on Werner Herzog’s Theatre of Thought reveals the unmistakable perspective of a cosmologically minded neuroscientist engaging with one of cinema’s most enigmatic auteurs. Ludvig’s remarks demonstrate not only his scientific acumen but also his intellectual admiration for Herzog’s lifelong pursuit of truth through poetic and often unsettling imagery. He praises Herzog as a “genius filmmaker,” placing Theatre of Thought within the continuum of his provocative masterpieces such as Aguirre, the Wrath of God and The Wild Blue Yonder—films that, much like this documentary, explore the fragile boundaries between human ambition, madness, and transcendence.

Ludvig highlights the film’s numerous thought-provoking encounters: from Christof Koch’s “Zen-like” meditations on consciousness to John Donoghue’s visionary discussion of the future of deep brain stimulation, and from Polina Anikeeva’s extraordinary journey bridging the scientific rigor of Soviet-era Leningrad with the technological innovation of MIT, to Herzog’s own philosophical musings on cognition and creativity. Each vignette, Ludvig notes, contributes to a mosaic of intellectual curiosity that makes Theatre of Thought not only a documentary about neuroscience but also an artwork about the human condition itself. The inclusion of a fragment from Dovzhenko’s 1930 silent film Earth—a poetic insertion of agrarian mysticism into a modern dialogue on neural circuits—strikes Ludvig as the kind of audacious gesture only a filmmaker of Herzog’s caliber could attempt.

Yet, Ludvig’s admiration is tempered by a clear-eyed critique. He openly questions the film’s inclusion of pseudo-scientific demonstrations—such as an experiment claiming to detect lies through cerebral blood flow using a helmet-like device—calling them “bad experiments” that risk undermining the intellectual credibility of the work. Moreover, he laments a missed opportunity: despite showcasing state-of-the-art neural recording systems, Herzog never employs them to explore the cortical dynamics underlying the motor control and performance artistry of Philippe Petit, the legendary high-wire walker who traversed the Twin Towers in 1974 and now appears in the film as a living embodiment of balance and daring.

Finally, Ludvig draws attention to the film’s somber denouement: the haunting image of a palace guard performing his absurd, almost deranged steps while Herzog’s voice overlays the question, “Who was the ghostwriter of this?” For Ludvig, this closing moment encapsulates the director’s deeply ambivalent vision of humanity—one oscillating between awe at our cognitive achievements and despair at our existential absurdity.

In conclusion, Ludvig acknowledges Theatre of Thought as a work of profound artistic and scientific resonance, yet one imbued with Herzog’s characteristically dark metaphysical pessimism. It is a documentary that celebrates human intellect while simultaneously mourning its limitations—an outlook perfectly echoed in the title of Herzog’s own memoir: Every Man for Himself and God Against All.