March of the Improbable Blockbuster

I finally got around to seeing the sleeper hit of the summer, March of the Penguins. Short of a full review, which has already been done a thousand times, I'll just offer some of my thoughts.

I found it to be good, but not great. If nothing else, it's a great example of how a typical National Geographic feature can be turned into a feature film with a little help from a smart musical score and the stately voice of Morgan Freeman.

However, it's very easy to see why March of the Penguins has struck a chord with so many people. The Emperor Penguin seems to offer an entire species of underdogs and ugly ducklings (in an almost literal sense). They are indeed imperial, as long as they don't move or attempt to do anything, at which point they appear to be the butt of a cruel evolutionary joke, as they trudge 70 miles inland for half a year despite being spectacularly ill-equipped to do anything other than swim. And I'll be darned if those little chicks aren't the cutest babies of any non-kitten species.

I'll admit it's very well made, and very nearly overcomes its own absurd level of anthropomorphism. A chick dies, and for the parents, "the loss is almost unbearable." I paused, not knowing whether to roll my eyes or laugh, and yet the loss did seem almost unbearable, as the adults' usual overtone-laden honk (I'm guessing only a music major would find the overtones interesting, or notice them at all) became more of a plaintive wail, and footage was shown of a mother, described as "bereft" and "grieving," attempting to steal another's chick. And so, despite the obvious silliness of ascribing human emotions to these birds, I can't help but be drawn in, and feel for the mothers. Which pretty much sums up how I felt about the whole film.

Regardless of whether or not it's really "good," however, I am immensely pleased with its success for two reasons:

1. It proves that people will pay money to see a documentary even when it's not Michael Moore spewing simplistic conspiracy theories. (Not to be a nit-picker, but I never considered Michael Moore a "documentarian" as much as a "propagandist" anyway, much in the same way that I consider Rush Limbaugh to be less of a "political commentator" and more of an "idiotic blowhard.")
2. It shows that if people have enough crap shoved down their throats, they will eventually stop eating it. Thus the failure of The Island and the success of March of the Penguins. I hadn't previously thought this possible, thinking that if so many people paid to see, well, every other movie Michael Bay made, they would surely sink $10 apiece in another of his cinematic travesties.

Combine these trends, and we can picture in our minds a world in which Steven Spielberg and Jerry Bruckheimer sit around wondering why nobody cares about their tedious special effects masturbations, and Errol Morris and Rob Epstein bask in the glow of widespread respect and recognition. Ridiculous? Absolutely, but a man can dream.