The first feature-length film ever to depict the extraordinary struggles and triumphs of the emperor penguins living in the austral wonderland of Antarctica, The March of the Penguins will send your heart a fluttering with its beauty and grace.
Given the clumsy wobble of their tread, and their pudgy appearance resembling bodies gymed out of shape, the emperor penguins aren't exactly the tiara-bearer for the most elegant creature on planet Earth. Yet, garbed in sleek raiment of white and black, with the blush of orange at their necks, these emperors are truly a sight to behold: very elegant chic as opposed to circuit-boy twinkiness (more queen than kings perhaps?). Even so, the beauty of these creatures ultimately falls secondary to the awesome tenacity to survive and propagate in their harsh conditions.
Trained in biology, French filmmaker Luc Jacquet has a way with nature. Living in the southern-most end of the world for the past 10 years or so, Monsieur Jacquet knows a thing or two about handling cold shoulders. Possessing the temper of a regular diva, Antarctica is one ice-queen you definitely will not want to mess with. So hats-up to Monsieur Jacquet for braving the wintry music of Miss Southern Bella to give us this most extraordinary documentary that recounts the mating-cycle of the magnificent emperors.
The March of the Penguins (or La Marche de L'Empereur) is a product of the tireless efforts of Monsieur Jacquet and expert cinematographers Laurent Chalet and Jrme Maison, who spent thirteen months encamped in the Antarctica. And the result is breath-takingly beautiful!
The March follows the emperors as they trudge through the freezing tundra of Antartica leaving behind their oceanic play den to embark on a journey to their designated mating ground and this wondrous pilgrimage begins every summer. Once there, the emperors will pair up to mate, and each couple only produces a single egg. Once the egg has been laid, the mothers will temporarily hand over the duty of parenthood to the fathers, and return to the sea to feed again, replenishing their strengths. Entrusted with their unhatched offsprings, the fathers have to brave the coming winter storms while protecting the fragile lives they cradle on their feet in folds of warm belly flesh from the icy temperature and cruel winds. When spring arrives, the mothers will return, bringing back food which they store within their guts.
Only some families will reunite; not every father and child will survive the ordeals of waiting. In fact, not all the mothers do as well. The world down south is a merciless one, with the threat of predation at every corner, and the elements of nature unrelenting.
The March possesses an epical arc in its narrative. Essentially, it is more than just a documentary about the emperor penguins. It transcends mere exposition and conveyance of factual information about these flightless birds. It is a film about marriage, about the hardships of surviving in an uncaring environment, about the bonds that make up a family, about the joy and tears involved in child raising.
The March resembles a film in which penguins are given the faculty of human speech, and we are privileged to hear them speak for the very first time. And what we are hearing is not so much the penguins telling us the story of their lives, but the sense that our very own human themes have been refracted through the lived experiences of these birds - a towering sense of shared humanity runs through the film, like an ancient river. This is what makes The March moving as it is.
In this film, veterans of French cinema lend their voices to work a poetic, and sometimes surreal narrative that alloys the exuberance in living, the stoicism in the face of adversity and the tenderness of intimacy. The voice of Charles Berling (best known outside France for the arthouse favourites Ridicule and Partrice Chereau's Those Who Love Me Can Take the Train) is especially evocative. He wrenches our heart with all the longings, love and fear of the father penguins attending to their young, and awaiting the return of their partners. The bjork-esque music of French electronic chanteuse Emilie Simon also lends much magic to the film. With her sweet and sour voice, she infuses the film with an ambience of poignancy and the grandeur of simplicity which works superbly with the sparseness of the Antarctic landscape.
By turns solemn and playful, The March is a beautifully conceived film that leaves a warm feeling in the soul like last night's love making. Watching it one feels as if given a pair of wings for the flight these awe-inspiring emperors have been denied. This film might just revive the humanity that jaded queens out there think they might have lost. Give it a try, dearies. After all, you have nothing to lose.
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