EM: I feel that element of spontaneity because so much of what I do is controlled. The element of spontaneity is not knowing what someone is going to say to me in front of the camera, having really no idea, of being surprised. I know that there’s this moment in all of the interviews that I’ve loved where something happens. I had this three-minute rule that if you just shut up and let someone talk, within three minutes they will show you how crazy they really are. And it has happened time and time and time again.

WH: And you have a great sense for the afterthought. The interview is finished, it’s over, and Errol is still sitting and expecting something. Then all of a sudden there comes an afterthought, and that’s the best of all.

EM: Yes, often.

WH: Very often, yes. And I have learned that, in a way, from you. Wait for the afterthought. Be patient. Don’t say, “Cut.” Just let them do it. And in the Antarctic film [Encounters at the End of the World] you have the man who is all of a sudden not knowing what to do—

EM: It’s a very, very good moment.

WH: Because he showed his hands with very odd-shaped fingers and he stands and stands. And I don’t respond to him. And he wanted to know, should he continue to work, and stands, and then somehow—

EM: Now, why is that moment powerful? It’s powerful because you can tell by looking at it it’s unplanned. It comes from this moment of being deeply uncertain what to do, what to say, what will happen next.

WH: The unplanned, the unexpected, the afterthought—you are the master of that.

EM: If everything was planned, it would be dreadful. If everything was unplanned, it would be equally dreadful. Cinema exists because there are elements of both in everything. There are elements of both in documentary. There are elements of both in feature filmmaking. It’s what makes, I think, photography and filmmaking of interest. Despite all of our efforts to control something, the world is much, much more powerful than us, and more deranged even than us.