Much has been written about the veritable glut of garbage films put out by the various streaming services in the post-COVID landscape, to the point it’s a cliché to even bring it up. Disney+, Netflix, et al. are so awash in true crime docs, vapid reality shows, and budgetless-looking genre fare that the rare gem put out by them often flies under the radar as it’s quickly cycled out by the latest and lamest. Perhaps most relevant to that trend is the case of the nature and/or animal documentary. In April alone, the aforementioned streamers dropped (at least) three films that ostensibly centered our bestial kin: Disney+ released Pets (directed by Bryce Dallas Howard, in a fitting progression following her feature-length debut, Dads), while Disneynature dropped their latest Earth Day doc, Sea Lions of the Galapagos. And elsewhere, Netflix released Pangolin: Kulu’s Journey, arriving with something of a higher pedigree than most films of its ilk, having been directed by Pippa Ehrlich, one-half of the Oscar-winning duo behind My Octopus Teacher.
But the common, inherent problem of such nature- and animal-focused documentaries is the presence of the human. In our streaming-focused present, which has been coming of age alongside the cultural and commercial domination of the attention economy, the anthropocentrism that has always informed such bio-focused film and television viewing has expanded to encompass a larger scale instinct toward voyeurism and exploitation. It’s no accident that alongside eco/biocentric watches, the other zeitgeist boom in visual media has come in the realm of long-form true crime series and celebrity portraiture. This has only exacerbated questions of ethics and priorities in animal-based filmmaking, and Ehrlich’s Pangolin commits this sin most egregiously of the recent trio. The titular Kulu is far from the main character in his own story; that title instead belongs to Gareth Thomas, a South African conservation volunteer. Thomas spends the film waxing philosophical about his directionless life before meeting Kulu, and how, most stereotypically, it was Kulu who saved him, not the other way around. While this bait-and-switch is certainly intentional, the film fails to truly engage with the heart of the issue — is Thomas saving and being saved by this small animal actually a threat to its (and other animals’) survival? There are the necessary dramatics surrounding Kulu’s release and the personal effects it has on Thomas, but what could have been a fascinating exploration of the “do no harm” maxim ends up instead settling into pandering, superficial, and uninspiring territory. But then again, perhaps this should be expected from Ehrlich, as My Octopus Teacher spent far more of the film platforming a shitty dad than it did educating viewers on anything more substantive with regard to the natural world. Platitude as movie.
Arguments can be made that human connection is at the heart of films like Pangolin, and that focus is what draws the audience in. But that perspective only reinforces the shared solipsism of humanity, a notion shattered by films like Sea Lions of the Galapagos. Outside narration from Brendan Fraser, there is no human present in the film, and the result is something briefly more captivating. Sea Lions follows Leo from birth to adulthood as he navigates the complicated dynamics of the animal kingdom on these small, remote islands. From trying to make friends as a pup to taking on the male beachmaster for control of a habitat, Sea Lions includes the comforting and terrifying, the beautiful and messy. Being but the latest entry in the Disneynature line, the structure and tenor of this presentation won’t surprise many viewers, and Sea Lions does little to attempt to break the franchise’s truistic approach. But even in avoiding the humanity of it all, the film — directed by High Wilson, with an assist from Disneynature vet Keith Scholey — fails to distinguish itself from the surplus of material being pumped out by the collective streaming machine; captivating visuals and a dose of quippy narration can only take it so far, though it does inspire at least one thought: in our present age, what remains of our capacity to truly connect with art when there is no human anchor? The presence of a narrator — here and almost everywhere else — says depressingly plenty about our ability to connect in the absence of narrative, and while the answer is less clear with regard to human involvement, the implication regarding our limits of empathy doesn’t paint a pretty picture.
Perhaps an attempt to answer some of this comes in the form of Pets. Howard’s approach is much more simplistic; in an interview with NPR, she said, “I didn’t want to go anywhere that I wouldn’t feel comfortable kind of talking about with a 6-year-old.” Throughout the film, stories of humans and their pets (ranging from dogs and cats to hawks and pigs) are interspersed with those of children, who answer questions about their relationships with pets in a surprisingly thoughtful and insightful manner. While that youth-focused approach often results in a watered-down answer to the question of the appropriateness of humanity’s intervention with some of these animals, it at least raises the question in viewers’ minds. However, that same simplicity is the downfall of Pets; its insistence on feel-good anecdotes supported by heartfelt soundbites fails to engage the viewer on any deeper psychological level. And while the inherent grief that comes with the death of these beloved creatures comes into play, for instance, the film is more focused on highlighting the connections humans have formed with those animals during their lives rather than moving toward an exploration of any alien understanding of animals — human narcissism once again at play. This is perhaps by design, as the suggestion that Pets may hold any answer to the larger question of human engagement will immediately be understood as preposterous, but it does nonetheless leave viewers feeling like they, much like the film’s Ziggy the pig, are only wading into the shallow end. And unfortunately, it’s the shallow end into which all three of these films feel most comfortable dipping their toes. Call them mixed successes or mixed failures, but the verdict is the same: we’ve a ways to go in order to properly, intelligently, and ethically honor all life on this planet, in art, in media, and otherwise.
[PETS] DIRECTOR: Bryce Dallas Howard; DISTRIBUTOR: Disney+; STREAMING: April 11; RUNTIME: 1 hr. 19 min.
[PANGOLIN: KULU’S JOURNEY] DIRECTOR: Pippa Ehrlich; DISTRIBUTOR: Netflix; STREAMING: April 21; RUNTIME: 1 hr. 30 min.
[SEA LIONS OF THE GALAPAGOS] DIRECTOR: Hugh Wilson & Keith Scholey; DISTRIBUTOR: Disneynature; STREAMING: April 22; RUNTIME: 1 hr. 23 min.
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