Pointing out the numerable problems in a critic-proof film like *March of the Penguins* will doubtless make me come across as a real sourpuss, but I'll give it a shot, anyway, because the movie has become eminent enough, and its faults interesting enough, to merit a rebuttal.
Mainly, the anthropomorphism throughout the film is nearly intolerable. Yes yes, we're all living creatures on the same planet, and most species share essential functions of biology, but director Luc Jacquet photographs -- for example -- a pair of mating emperor penguins as if they were Jean-Louis Trintignant and Anouk Aimee in *A Man and a Woman*. The slow-motion rubbing of beaks, the bowed heads as if they are whispering romantic nothings to each other, the daytime soap-opera score tinkling in the background, eventually amount to manipulative hokum of the first order. It's also unscientific as hell: scientists have yet to conclude that animals "fall in love" as we understand the phrase. And yet the movie announces this thesis from the get-go. After the opening credits, a penguin bursts up onto the ice from the chilly depths below, and Morgan Freeman intones that this little fellow will do a number of foolish things "for love". The ever-present proverbial Professor once again must brandish his Red Pen and scrawl with irritation "PROVE???" in the margin. These particular penguins are monogamous for the breeding period only; other species show monogamous behavior for the entire span of their lives. But monogamy and love, as any divorce lawyer knows, are not synonyms. The filmmakers take a step further down this slippery slope when they label a mother penguin's loss of her chick as "unbearable" for her. Unbearable for us, certainly. But do we have the empirical data supporting the notion that penguins, or any other animals, suffer grief in the same way that we do? When this mother afterward attempts to "kidnap" another penguin's chick, the motivation is attributed to maternal agony and desperation: mightn't it rather be a coldly calculated behavioral instinct? I'm frankly shocked that National Geographic would put their imprimatur on such unscientific nonsense. Perhaps the Society feels that movies like these are needed to instill into sociopaths like oil executives and redneck hunters the idea that all species on this planet deserve our empathy and respect, but taking the low-road to achieve that aim isn't doing anybody any favors, least of all the penguins themselves.
In any case, the movie's thesis sort of falls apart at the end when the nuclear families of the penguins abruptly disintegrate: the adults beat a hasty retreat to the water for fishing and cavorting, leaving the darling chicks to fend for themselves on the ice. "The chicks will never see their parents again," Freeman says sadly. No postcards, no birthday greetings on video-mail. So much for anthropomorphism. Turns out after all that people are people, and birds are birds.
*March of the Penguins* is most successful doing what documentaries like these really do best: educating us on the ways of creatures different from ourselves. You WILL learn about the breeding cycle of the emperor penguin. I just wonder why acquiring this knowledge necessitated such a grim slog through speculative moralizing, accompanied by a tear-jerking score. A real documentary, including interviews with scientists, would have been more edifying. For instance, an expert maybe could have explained why the Antarctic would permit such an imperfect creature a continued existence there. One thing I wondered about was why emperor penguins don't have pouches to store their chicks. Clearly, adaptability is not the same thing as perfection. Or the paucity of natural predators necessitates a high mortality rate. Who knows? The movie successfully shows the hows, but doesn't address the whys in a scientific manner. Apparently, the penguins do it all for love. Okay.
3 stars out of 10.
Mainly, the anthropomorphism throughout the film is nearly intolerable. Yes yes, we're all living creatures on the same planet, and most species share essential functions of biology, but director Luc Jacquet photographs -- for example -- a pair of mating emperor penguins as if they were Jean-Louis Trintignant and Anouk Aimee in *A Man and a Woman*. The slow-motion rubbing of beaks, the bowed heads as if they are whispering romantic nothings to each other, the daytime soap-opera score tinkling in the background, eventually amount to manipulative hokum of the first order. It's also unscientific as hell: scientists have yet to conclude that animals "fall in love" as we understand the phrase. And yet the movie announces this thesis from the get-go. After the opening credits, a penguin bursts up onto the ice from the chilly depths below, and Morgan Freeman intones that this little fellow will do a number of foolish things "for love". The ever-present proverbial Professor once again must brandish his Red Pen and scrawl with irritation "PROVE???" in the margin. These particular penguins are monogamous for the breeding period only; other species show monogamous behavior for the entire span of their lives. But monogamy and love, as any divorce lawyer knows, are not synonyms. The filmmakers take a step further down this slippery slope when they label a mother penguin's loss of her chick as "unbearable" for her. Unbearable for us, certainly. But do we have the empirical data supporting the notion that penguins, or any other animals, suffer grief in the same way that we do? When this mother afterward attempts to "kidnap" another penguin's chick, the motivation is attributed to maternal agony and desperation: mightn't it rather be a coldly calculated behavioral instinct? I'm frankly shocked that National Geographic would put their imprimatur on such unscientific nonsense. Perhaps the Society feels that movies like these are needed to instill into sociopaths like oil executives and redneck hunters the idea that all species on this planet deserve our empathy and respect, but taking the low-road to achieve that aim isn't doing anybody any favors, least of all the penguins themselves.
In any case, the movie's thesis sort of falls apart at the end when the nuclear families of the penguins abruptly disintegrate: the adults beat a hasty retreat to the water for fishing and cavorting, leaving the darling chicks to fend for themselves on the ice. "The chicks will never see their parents again," Freeman says sadly. No postcards, no birthday greetings on video-mail. So much for anthropomorphism. Turns out after all that people are people, and birds are birds.
*March of the Penguins* is most successful doing what documentaries like these really do best: educating us on the ways of creatures different from ourselves. You WILL learn about the breeding cycle of the emperor penguin. I just wonder why acquiring this knowledge necessitated such a grim slog through speculative moralizing, accompanied by a tear-jerking score. A real documentary, including interviews with scientists, would have been more edifying. For instance, an expert maybe could have explained why the Antarctic would permit such an imperfect creature a continued existence there. One thing I wondered about was why emperor penguins don't have pouches to store their chicks. Clearly, adaptability is not the same thing as perfection. Or the paucity of natural predators necessitates a high mortality rate. Who knows? The movie successfully shows the hows, but doesn't address the whys in a scientific manner. Apparently, the penguins do it all for love. Okay.
3 stars out of 10.