Three stars. Rated G, and suitable for all ages
By Derrick Bang
At its better moments,
particularly with respect to the harsh caste system practiced by its small
toque macaque stars, this new Disneynature docu-drama is an engaging blend of
intimate footage and informative commentary.
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| Our macaque heroine, Maya, is caught during a quiet moment with her newborn son, Kip. Sadly, keeping that little guy well-nourished is destined to become a constant problem. |
Sadly, these “earnest” sequences
are blended with the sort of contrived, slapstick nonsense that epitomized bad
Disney comedies from the late 1960s and early ’70s: the moments when
mischievous animals broke into a paint factory, or some poor housewife’s
kitchen, and dumped/destroyed all the contents in a ghastly — but always
colorful — display of dripping, gooey glop.
I’d have thought Disney had moved
beyond such twaddle, particularly given the thoughtful, intelligent approach of
its initial nature documentaries: Earth,
Oceans, Wings of Life and several others. But no, director Mark Linfield
signals his intentions right from the top, as his simian protagonists run, leap
and swing into view accompanied by ... Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart’s theme to
the 1960s TV series The Monkees,
performed by no less than ex-Monkee Micky Dolenz.
The film never fully recovers.
Indeed, such “lighter” elements
mock what should have been a serious subject. This ain’t the ’60s any more,
folks; informed, sophisticated productions from BBC America and the Discovery
Channel have taught us to expect much, much more from nature documentaries.
Yes, toque macaque are cute — in
an unusual sort of way — and their behaviors can be hilarious. But that doesn’t
justify a trivial tone and unnatural “storyline” that insults our intelligence,
while minimizing the very real issues that constantly imperil this species,
above and beyond the jealously guarded cliques within a single tribe.
What ... just because they’re
monkeys, they don’t merit the same respectful treatment accorded, say, the
ursine stars of the Disneynature film Bears?
Puh-leaze.
We meet our small, furry heroine,
Maya, at the beginning of an average day for her tribe. She endures at the
bottom of a rigid social order governed by an alpha male named Raja and his
three bitchy concubines, collectively known as “the Sisterhood.” The tribe
lives in one of the many deserted ancient cities dotting the northeastern
portion of the island nation of Sri Lanka. The stone ruins serve as both
playground and sanctuary, as does the commanding “Castle Rock” from which Raja
often surveys his domain.
As a “low-born” member of the
tribe, Maya must be content with meager leftovers when it comes to food, water
and shelter. Raja, his mates and their offspring are privileged to nibble on
the ripest figs at the top of their most cherished lunch spot; lesser tribe
members are found on the tree’s progressively lower branches, where the figs
aren’t as tasty. Maya isn’t even permitted in the tree; she must scavenge
discarded bits from the ground below.
This unyielding social order
isn’t open to negotiation; it simply is.
But necessity is the mother of invention, even among monkeys; hungry low-borns
become more resourceful, in their search for food, and we get a sense that Maya
is quite capable. There’s no denying the calculating intelligence behind her
watchful gaze.
The tribal routine is interrupted
briefly by the arrival of Kumar, a young male that has left his birth troop,
and is seeking a new place to settle. He has the potential to become a future
alpha male, and so Maya bonds with him. This could be mere chance; it also
could reflect the sort of Machiavellian, long-range planning characteristic of
Cersei Lannister, in HBO’s Game of
Thrones.
Actually, it would be nice to
know if young female macaques are
that clever, but Tina Fey’s deliberately droll, off-camera narration never
offers anything that helpful.
Sadly, Kumar overplays his hand,
angering Raja, and is expelled from the tribe. But not before leaving Maya a
gift: Kip, a precocious, playful and frighteningly vulnerable son, born several
months later.
Kip’s presence makes Maya more
determined; motherhood exerts its own demands. But even that bond is
inconsequential in the face of established order, and this film’s one genuinely
scary sequence comes when the Sisterhood angrily kidnaps young Kip. Would they
harm or even kill the infant monkey?
Raja soon has more serious
issues: the assault of a rival troop, led by a nasty-looking macaque with a
split lip, named Lex. Thanks to ill-advised battle tactics, Raja and his tribe
are driven out of their protective home, and forced to survive on the run.
This is where Linfield’s film
goes off the rails, because our macaques temporarily re-locate in a nearby
(human) town, where they make merry while stealing food, trinkets and anything
not nailed down from a massive outdoor market. The tone here is jolly and
frivolous, as is Fey’s narration: a goofy, larkish interlude that attempts (and
fails) to obscure the fact that monkeys forced to behave this way are starving,
and likely deprived of their preferred habitat (the latter being accurate, but
not for the reasons suggested by this simplistic narrative).
Granted, this detour into
man-made civilization isn’t as eye-rollingly dumb and messy as an earlier
invasion of a child’s birthday party, as Maya and her low-born peers trash
cake, candy, party favors and the conveniently precarious contents of this modest
home. The manipulation becomes blatant here, and even worse when Raja’s tribe
decides to return to Castle Rock, and re-claim their paradise.
Really? Somehow, I remain
unconvinced that this ever would happen.
Granted, it’s perfectly
reasonable for Linfield and his crew to construct a story with heroes, villains
and appealing supporting players, in order to better engage our hearts and
minds. I get that. But this particular story too frequently feels artificial
and — worse yet — designed specifically for “cute monkey shenanigans.”
That undercuts the beauty and
awesome splendor of the authentic natural moments, such as the airborne banquet
that arrives only once each year, with the emergence of millions of alates
(winged swarming termites). The resulting feast is both euphoric and
astonishing, with our macaques grabbing fistfuls of tasty insects alongside
birds and even scorpions.
The other stunner comes when Maya
and her macaque friends prove to be capable underwater swimmers, particularly
while searching for lily seed heads. The close-up cinematography, during this
underwater interval, is particularly remarkable.
Venturing into a pond comes with
risks, however, in the form of a massive monitor lizard: a predator which,
along with stealthy leopards, would love to make lunch of unwary monkeys.
Other incidental critters include
elephants, sloth bears, a playful mongoose and the amusingly docile langur
monkeys. The latter look regal, their dark faces framed by snow-white hair, but
they’re oddly passive; the macaques appear to treat them as pets, rather than
peers. It’s a fascinating relationship and — again — one bereft of truly useful
commentary or explanation.
Fey certainly deserves credit for
her witty asides and deft comic timing; I’ve no doubt she was hired for her
delightfully jokey tone. The problem is that this “lighter side” overwhelms the
production, making it difficult to respect anything else. The frivolous mood is
exacerbated further by the insertion of pop tunes intended to make sport of
macaque behavior, as when pop star Nikki croons “What a Man” behind Maya’s
first encounter with Kumar. Seriously?
And I can’t help feeling that the
original song “It’s Our World” — performed by The Voice runner-up Jacquie Lee — has less to do with augmenting
this film’s crowd-pleasing finale, and more to do with selling digital
downloads.
I hate to sound so mean-spirited
about what undoubtedly represents dedicated, heartfelt work on the part of an
extensive film crew that spent three years obtaining the footage needed for
this film. No question: Anything that raises mainstream awareness of wildlife
conservation efforts is valuable.
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