Werner Herzog’s genius rests in the identification and analysis of extremes – human, animal and environmental. He was spurred to make this film by extraordinary underwater footage shot by a scientist friend working on Antarctic ice stations, so the extreme landscape was a given. Now, wasn’t it also a safe bet that the individuals who choose to work and live in this most glamorously unforgiving territory would have a few intriguing stories under their belts? (As for the animals, Herzog begins by wondering aloud why it is that chimpanzees don’t get it together to domesticate goats, but moves into analysis of the unique qualities of seal milk and the behaviour of deranged penguins.)

Guided by a generous curiosity, Herzog’s film proves fascinating, educational, and dazzlingly funny; it’s an uplifting, positive document, despite an underlying message that “our presence on this planet does not seem to be sustainable.” If this is indeed the last phase of existence for an overreaching, destructive species, we may at least take solace from the wondrous variety of personalities and projects that Herzog discovers in the Antarctic. Drifters are drawn to the South Pole; as one researcher puts it, it’s as if everyone who isn’t fixed down falls to the bottom of the earth. We meet linguists, philosophers and dishwashers; a man whose unusual fingers reveal that he’s descended from Aztec royalty; and a woman who dresses up as a suitcase for fun … then there’s the filmmaker’s own inimitable, dark wit. He’s perturbed by the less romantic facets of life at McMurdo Research Station (decrying “abominations such as an aerobics studio and yoga classes”), and occasionally his deadpan voiceover overrides his interviewees’ rambling tales of derring-do (“Her story goes on for hours…”).

The glory of this film – and indeed the key to Herzog’s importance as an artist and cultural commentator – is a capacity to celebrate the complexity and beauty of life without negating or glossing over its uglier elements.