Monday, September 26, 2005
Marched to the theatre to see the penguins....
I knew that I would like "March of the Penguins" before I ever viewed it. I mean, a National G. documentary on wildlife in an exotic location narrated by Morgan Freeman? What's not to like?
It was even better than I'd imagined it would be. I had no idea that the mating cycle of Antarctic penguins would actually form a cohesive story, greatly helped by Morgan Freeman's narrative. And I learned quite a bit about how harsh the conditions are, how hardy the penguins are, and how small the odds are of the successful raising of a chick.
The visuals are stunning: time lapse of the brief winter sun in the sky, extreme closeups of glossy feathers, masses of penguins huddled against an 80 below zero blizzard, chicks peeking out from the protective warmth above their parents' feet. Most surprising, though, were the underwater shots: diving, swimming, feeding, attempting to outrun a hungry leopard seal. I wonder how the photographers managed to get under the ice for those shots. I was thrilled with the sheer diversity of coverage, from overhead shots of seemingly endless lines of penguins trekking single file across the ice and snow to closer shots of pairs of mates to tight shots of chicks hatching.
I've seen more than my fair share of wildlife documentaries, most of which fall rather short of being fascinating. This film, though, actually contained drama. I found myself feeling pity for the penguins whose egg cracked and froze, admiration for the males going months on end without food while balancing an egg on their feet, intrigued about how the females were able to return and resume the parenting duties, sadness for the penguin who kept trying to revive her dead chick, and amusement as the hatchlings who survived took their first awkward steps.
Next time I think I have it rough, I'll remind myself that at least I'm not a penguin.
It was even better than I'd imagined it would be. I had no idea that the mating cycle of Antarctic penguins would actually form a cohesive story, greatly helped by Morgan Freeman's narrative. And I learned quite a bit about how harsh the conditions are, how hardy the penguins are, and how small the odds are of the successful raising of a chick.
The visuals are stunning: time lapse of the brief winter sun in the sky, extreme closeups of glossy feathers, masses of penguins huddled against an 80 below zero blizzard, chicks peeking out from the protective warmth above their parents' feet. Most surprising, though, were the underwater shots: diving, swimming, feeding, attempting to outrun a hungry leopard seal. I wonder how the photographers managed to get under the ice for those shots. I was thrilled with the sheer diversity of coverage, from overhead shots of seemingly endless lines of penguins trekking single file across the ice and snow to closer shots of pairs of mates to tight shots of chicks hatching.
I've seen more than my fair share of wildlife documentaries, most of which fall rather short of being fascinating. This film, though, actually contained drama. I found myself feeling pity for the penguins whose egg cracked and froze, admiration for the males going months on end without food while balancing an egg on their feet, intrigued about how the females were able to return and resume the parenting duties, sadness for the penguin who kept trying to revive her dead chick, and amusement as the hatchlings who survived took their first awkward steps.
Next time I think I have it rough, I'll remind myself that at least I'm not a penguin.
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