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A mere 100 million years ago, in the mid-Cretaceous era, Antarctica
was a tropical paradise, teeming with life. When things changed and ice covered everything
(eventually to a depth of 13,000 feet), every single terrestrial life form died out or
departed for better climates, except for one. Yes, the huge, fashionable emperor penguins
are alone in truckin' on, disregarding dark winter nights of ice storms and temperatures
permanently way below zero.
So how do they spend their time there, these lovable, dim-witted
creatures? The ads for Luc Jacquet's justly acclaimed new documentary, March of the
Penguins, claim it's "one of the most beautiful love stories on Earth." In
fact, however, this stunning film only shows how inefficient and downright stupid Mother
Nature can be.
Penguins are cute, they are fun, and entertaining to watch, but when it
comes to brains, they are all dressed up in their tuxes with no place to go,
intellectually speaking. The march of the film's title takes place over a 70-mile shuttle
between their feeding places and their mating/breeding/nursing ground. The former has thin
ice and holes to access fish - absolutely the only food available. The latter has thick,
stable ice, all the better for vigorous mating (which they don't), producing the eggs, and
then carrying and keeping the eggs warm - for months.
Now penguins are great swimmers, but as pedestrians, they are only
comical, not efficient. Walking over the ice, during the worst of the Antarctic winter,
takes many days, and saps their energy. But here's the main problem: when they are at the
mating ground, there is no food there, so after weeks of courting, mating, producing the
eggs, all the penguins are close to being starved to death.
The gallant males take charge of the eggs, balancing them on the top of
their feet (a pouch would have been too much to ask from the divine design?), and the
females make their reverse march, to the fishing holes, spending weeks there. When the
females return, the males go on their icy Bataan march to feed. And then this happens
again and again and again. For nine months. During storms, the only source of heat for the
penguins is each other, as hundreds of them circle the wagons, as it were, covered with
snow and ice.
To watch this incredibly masochistic urge to assure the survival of the
species in action is both astonishing and rather painful. When the chicks are born, right
off the bat, they have to deal with 100 mph winds, sub-zero temperatures, and giant
petrels feeding on them. You watch their plight, heart breaking, and hear the cold (yes)
statistics: in some years, 80% of the chicks perish before the whole tribe goes on the
season's final march back to the swim holes. Even Morgan Freeman's superb narration cannot
help making this tragic struggle easier to take.
The "love story" designation is prompted by the fact that the
penguins are monogamous, although as you watch their romance, it's hard-to-impossible to
recognize individuals. The viewer cannot vouch for the claim that Penguin X is sticking
with Penguin Y as they both look exactly like Penguin Z. The surviving chicks, apparently,
turn teenagers almost instantly, and ignore or abandon their parents once they get their
own fish.
Other than Jacques Perrin's Winged Migration, there has never been
a more unusual documentary about animals. Perrin had the advantage of robot craft to
provide close-ups of the birds. In the Antarctic, there was no choice but to have
(super)humans run cameras, live with the penguins through the winter, for nine months, and
yet there is never any sign of life in the film other than the penguins. It's only during
the credits that the film-makers show a few amazing shots of the crew and how they did
their work. That story would make a far more exciting and heartening film, perhaps leaving
the penguins for credit background shots.
- Janos Gereben
