“For me, this was the summer of Jiggle Jiggle,” says Louis Theroux. It’s been a surreal year for Britain’s favourite documentary-maker. He’s chased down porn stars and far-right zealots in Louis Theroux’s Forbidden America, and breathed new life into celebrity interviews on BBC Two. But his most unlikely hit came when a clip of Theroux rapping on Chicken Shop Date – a deep-cut reference to a classic episode of Louis Theroux’s Weird Weekends from the year 2000 – was remixed by DJs Duke & Jones, becoming a viral dance sensation. The consequence, other than Theroux recording what might be his only R&B single, is that it has introduced another generation to Theroux’s unimpeachable back catalogue.
After “Jiggle Jiggle”, did other rappers start asking you to spit a few bars?
When I spoke to Stormzy [for Louis Theroux Interviews…] we were in the early stages of what I'm gonna call ‘Jigglemania’. I said to him, ‘you know, this thing's gone viral on TikTok’. And he's like, yeah, I heard about that.’ I said, ‘There's talk of me recording as a single. We're trying to figure out whether I should get an artist to guest on it…if only I knew a rapper.’ And he laughs, but he goes, ‘Yeah… I think that's just you.’ Little did I know at that stage that it would grow over the following weeks and months, and then I ended up doing a record with Jason Derulo.
It must be surreal. Thanks to that and Netflix, iPlayer, etc, a new generation is discovering your back catalogue.
I don't want to analyse it like this is an important social phenomenon, but I'm going to grandiosely say I think this is like second or third wave of rediscovery of my ‘oeuvre’. OK, I can't believe I just said that. But because I remember in 2017, after [Louis Theroux’s Weird Weekends] went up on Netflix, I noticed that on Twitter people were going ‘my money don't jiggle, jiggle’. It was sort of a wave of positive nostalgia. People in their late teens and twenties were talking about how much they liked them. And when I did the math, I realised they wouldn't have been alive when the shows came out.
The last couple of years, starting with your podcast Grounded, you've been doing a lot more one-on-one interviews. What makes an attractive proposition for you for a celebrity interview?
I think in the end, I'm looking for someone that it's almost as much about the story as it is about the person, the feeling that they opened up a world or a set of questions or a set of dilemmas that can speak to a wider theme.
So many of your interviewees – Jimmy Savile, Max Clifford, Joe Exotic, the alt-right – have turned out to do darker, even criminal things.
I'm going to preempt your question. I think I know where you’re going – I might be wrong. I don't think… honestly, I'm proud of having seen early that there were stories brewing – more that there were issues in the background that would connect with people that were curious and worth investigating. Clearly, I made a programme about Jimmy Savile and identified him as someone strange and a troubling figure. Later on, Joe Exotic [of The Tiger King]. Max Clifford was another one. Even the eruption that was January 6th was quite clearly foreshadowed by some of the conversations I had with the far right when I made an episode of Weird Weekends in Idaho and Montana, there was discussion of the New World Order and an upcoming clash. I think in the end, what's at the heart of this is the fact that people are quite weird, in general. The way it's expressed, or the way it's transmitted and disseminated might change, and that has definitely changed. But at its heart, our psychological impulses are quite consistent. I just think people are quite weird, and I'm curious about that.
Why do you think so many of the characters in your shows, on the fringes, are almost always men?
They're not always.
But is there something about the male experience that you think that you've noticed over the years means that so many of these characters – the worst of them – tend to be men?
Can I push back on that? Because, you know, as someone who made a programme about a woman called April Gaide, who was raising her twin daughters as a neo-nazi pop group, or as someone who's made programmes about the Westboro Baptist Church at a time when Shirley Phelps-Roper was the de facto leader, and the daughters of the group seemed to be more or less the engine for its most outrageous activity? And I can come up with better examples. I feel that I’m very much equal opportunity in my attitude to how I see behaviour that is somehow… outside the mainstream, or controversial. I think the only world where I definitely see that men are massively over represented is violent crime. Other than that, I think women are just as capable.
You always approach subjects with a level of empathy; you don't talk down to people. Do you think that is one of the reasons why people continue to talk to you and continue to trust you?
Well, I do feel that ever since I started in TV, I've tried to see the people that I interview, even the ones with abhorrent beliefs, as people who have a degree of human qualities and who deserve a certain amount of fair minded treatment. When you do immersive journalism, I have the luxury of not being in a studio. A TV interviewer and a subject have maybe half an hour, tops, and they have to get their point across. It's performative. And a lot of the interviews we see are with politicians who, for understandable reasons, are schooled in how to withhold information or avoid headlines. I'm going amongst people being a kind of guest in their homes very often. In the end, I'm not an especially confrontational person. I enjoy talking to people. I feel that most people, in some sense, are doing their best. And actually, I'm probably guilty on occasion of being overly trusting – like, I do go into encounters sort of hoping for the best.
Are you a calculating person?
I don't think so. I feel as though I’m thoughtful and I think I try and plan. You know, if I'm having an interview with someone, I try and think through how it's supposed to go down. My happy place as a TV journalist is to spend two weeks in a prison or in a hospital. I don't mean to sound glib about it, but I just like being a fly on the wall in different locations, and seeing how things unfolded, just observing, and then getting to know people and, you know, humanity, life takes place – and the pressure is off me in a way. But I enjoy that whole immersion in other people's lives, especially when their lives involve some sense that they're going through an experience that's transformative, or in different ways is revealing aspects of themselves. That is that it's quite raw and real. These [new] interviews are different. I have a couple of days with Stormzy or Judi Dench or Yungblud or Bear Grylls, whoever it happens to be, and so I have to be on my game to get the best out of those encounters.
Can I contextualise the question slightly? Which is that going back and watching clips I often notice that when interviewees say something, you'll pause for a moment before answering. And I don't know if you’re thinking through your answer, but looking back at some of your most famous moments – with the KKK, for example – [your answers] are always disarmingly witty little lines. They're funny in the moment, but the other person doesn't know that they're funny. And there's a certain amount of awareness there. To what extent is that a conscious decision on your part?
Probably all of the above. I was brought up in a family where sometimes affection was expressed through jokes, even teasing. I think nowadays they call that “bants”. And so it isn't necessarily the case that it's intended as a point scoring device. Sometimes it's just me trying to be funny in the moment, in a setting that I feel the other person might enjoy it. Sometimes they don't enjoy it, sometimes they don't notice it, and then sometimes it doesn't really happen on purpose. Sometimes it's just in the edit, and what I thought was a sincere compliment, or a bit of social graces comes across as faintly sarcastic or just awkward in a way it's quite funny. Like in the Rita Ora episode, there's some dancers and they're getting ready to do a video in LA. They’re dancing around and I clap after the little rehearsal, I go, “Awesome. Great job guys. Excellent!” At the time, it was just meant to be like, Yeah, of course, show your appreciation. And then in the cold light of day, is something quite weird about just how my compliment comes across. And it's kind of funny without really meaning it to be.
Do you ever feel like you're auditioning for someone?
In my life, do I feel I'm auditioning for someone? Like, maybe for God?
No, I mean often performers have an idealised audience who's sitting at home. For some people it's their parents, and some people it's their partner. And some people, it's a version of themselves.
In life, or on TV? On TV I don’t think I’m auditioning for anyone, I’m just trying to be funny. I do think that in life, I've been told in relationships that I have arguments, or sometimes I relate to my significant other in a way that feels performed. Which I think is probably – and talk about getting to the heart of things in a short interview – I think it's a feeling I have that I'm a bit arch or trivial about serious things in my normal life. I find serious things sometimes the funniest things. That's maybe my favourite kind of comedy, is things being quite deep and real, and then being slightly glib about it. Does that make sense? Because you know, it's the cliché version a sitcom where there's some huge blow up and someone goes, “Well, that escalated quickly!” Or “Good talk, guys!” That thing of deflating really heavy emotion with a throwaway remark. I'm guilty of slightly doing that. I'm beginning to get into psychoanalysis now. But you know, I used to joke that the qualities that made me good at TV made me bad at life. I do think I'm slightly guilty of being occasionally a little disconnected from the really important things. I think that was a more heavy answer than you were expecting?
I'll tell you the reason I thought about it – I was listening to the episode of Grounded where you talk to your cousin [Justin Theroux] and you were talking about the kind of banter that you had growing up.
I mean, my cousin, funnily enough, I think has something similar and I think it's almost like a suspicion of sincerity, or a fear of sincerity and a fear of intimacy. So if I see it looming into view, and a little alarm goes off. But I'm trying to be better than that. As you get older – I'm 52 – you realise: You know what? Sometimes it's important just to say something nice to someone without making it into a joke.
Three quick-fire questions to finish. First one: a documentary or documentary maker that you've admired in the past year and you think other people should know about?
I don't know if it counts as documentary, but I've been watching Nathan Fielder's show The Rehearsal. It was made for HBO, I think it’s on Now TV. And he's people should definitely know about his original series, which was called Nathan for you. It's more of a prank show, really? And then the new series is called The Rehearsal. It's so strange, and so extraordinary and in certain respects, so troubling, but it's definitely a conversation piece and something that deserves to be watched.
Which of your creations do you think you'll be remembered for?
Definitely “Jiggle Jiggle”.
I'm guessing you don't drive a Fiat anymore. What do you drive now?
I drive a Seat Alhambra. The pleasing part is that ‘Seat’ still scans. Although it's not a compact, what is it called? It's a minivan. But the seats do go back.