Harry here, and ya know... this film's for the birds... um... hello? Hello? Anyone home? cricket... cricket... Hehehhe... From the makers of MICROCOSMOS... that's all I needed to know about WINGED MIGRATION... you might need to know more, so here ya go...
I had the honor of getting a peek at Winged Migration recently, the Academy Award nominated film by mastermind Jacques Perrin. A friend of a friend told me that they were going to do a private screening here in San Francisco, and I jumped at the chance. To be fair, I had seen this film about a year ago in a film festival in Israel, and it had absolutely floored me. But I quickly gave up on it, having little to no hope that it would ever make an American release. ThatÃs not to say that I didnÃt make inquiries, though. I did, and nobody seemed to know what was happening. I figured there was some bad politics involved, which is usually the case when a brilliant film is denied mainstream access. And so I let it slide. Then came the Academy Awards, and lo and behold, Winged Migration was up for the best doc award. Knowing the Academy, I knew it wouldnÃt win, but that at least brought my hopes up that an American release might be in the works. So I checked around, and it turns out that Sony Classics is going to release this baby. They even have an impressive website set up, which I will include a link to at the end of my review. So check it out, and see when it is coming out in your city.
So you are all probably wondering: what the hell is Winged Migration? Well, the first thing you need to know is that this isnÃt so much a film as it is an experience. I donÃt say this in a wax poetic sort of way, either. ItÃs in those class of films that you really canÃt judge as films, because they donÃt follow any of the rules we are so accustomed to. IÃd compare it to the art-films of Ron Fricke and Godfrey Reggio; beautiful films that are built from the ground up for the big screen, and yet donÃt have a plot or dialogue. ìWhat? No plot or dialogue? ThatÃs impossible.î But itÃs not as if these films try and avoid it. Think of them as films that straddle the boundary between our wildest fantasies and our most dreaded realities. They are real films, but calling them ìdocumentariesî is an insult to their artistic excellence. They document life, humility, grace, shameÖ they are soaked in emotion, and thatÃs why I think using the word ìdocumentaryî betrays what this type of film has to offer. If we are to call them documentaries, then IÃd have to contend that these films revolutionize what a documentary can be. But in either case, the point is this: donÃt expect this film to bore you with facts. In fact, donÃt expect facts at all. Like I said, there is practically no dialogue.
In a nutshell, Winged Migration follows a ìfleetî of birds across all the continents of the world. It took well over 4 years to film, with over 250 camera-men and cinematographers working together. But numbers donÃt do the images you will see justice. I see Winged Migration as achieving mankinds greatest and longest standing dream: to fly across the world. Without the use of a single special-effect, Perrin shows us some of the most incredible images ever to grace the silver-screen. Imagine flying over 10,000 feet above the ground, among the heights of the Himalayas. Imagine the camera shooting, perfectly steady, a close-up of a bird flying up at these heights. Imagine the looks of grace and wisdom, of pure freedom, in that birds eye. Imagine seeing that same bird fly over castles in England, among sheep in Scotland and Ireland, through desserts in the Sahara, over the Great Wall of China, over the vibrant colors of an Eastern United States AutumnÖ during the sunset, during the sunrise. While at the beginning of the film you simply wonder how on earth they managed to shoot all these shots, you eventually become lost in this incredible world. You become free, a gypsy of the world, flying from continent to continent with your fellow birds. I must be sounding like a fool, but that is the power of this film. It will make someone like me, who thinks Lord of the Rings is the greatest thing to hit cinema in the last 10 years, completely reassess his definition of ìbeauty.î DonÃt get me wrong, Peter Jackson and New Zealand can produce some mighty beautiful shots. But who would have thought that seeing 10,000 birds take flight (there is an epic shot with AT LEAST this many birds are on-screen) can beat 10,000 CGI Uruk-hai storm Helms Deep?
For me, this is ultimately what Winged Migration is about: it is testament to mankindÃs ability to create and explore. I have a hard time even seeing it as a movie. It seems to be some Renaissance creation that is more comparable to Leonardo da Vinci than Michael Moore. In todays age, where we spend billions upon billions of dollars on complex mechanisms of war, it is extremely refreshing to know that technology is being used to create, not just destroy. That is ultimately what Winged Migration is testament to.
But the film isnÃt all flowery. It has a very distinct message, for those who wish to seek it. In one of the most powerful scenes IÃve seen in a while, our birds take a tragic turn when they encounter their most dangerous fellow species: mankind. I wonÃt give away what happens, but it is a scene that conjures up the kind of devastating emotions one feels when we see our whole team of characters perish in The Seven Samurai. In a masterful and extremely cruel pacing technique, Perrin hits us with the truth just when we donÃt want to hear it. Just when we are at the climax of dreaming, of hoping, of flying the Western and Eastern worlds, it is then that Perrin chooses to pull in his sucker punch. After watching that scene, I felt as though Perrin had betrayed me; I didnÃt want him to show me the inevitable truth. I canÃt even remember the last time I felt that bitter towards a director for being so good.
The movie is filled with many other epic shots. Having been shot before 9/11, we get some truly aching shots of our birds flying around NY on an early sunrise, the WTC still standing proud, lady liberty serving as the backdrop for our birds never-ending migration. What still strikes me about this film is just how much soul the birds have. Before this film I saw birds as one of the most boring class of animals around. But Perrin makes them out to be noble, hardened, gypsy-like creatures, whose eyes have seen all the great wonders of the world. A scene towards the end of the film, where one of our birds dies of what appears to be old age, brought me to tears. Crying during a documentary on birds? Aye, a ìdocumentary.î How betraying that word is. My greatest fear is that folks may not see this film because of their pre-conceived notions about what a ìdocumentaryî is. I can only hope that a few curious souls will seek out this film while it is still on the big-screen. It wonÃt be there for long, and there is no other film that I can think of that makes better use of such a screen. Do yourself a service and see this diamond of a film. Easily the one of the greatest visual spectacles ever filmed.
I'll go by Talimon.
