Cool chicks

Our rating:

Straight from the hands of National Geographic and straight, perhaps, from the heart of Disney, March of the Penguins takes us on the harrowing journey of the Emperor penguins as they complete a cycle that results in the birth of their offspring.

Narrated, unnecessarily, with great tenderness by Morgan Freeman and directed by Luc Jacquet, March of the Penguins is at best a hypnotic piece of cinema that approaches perfection with frightening precision and great love. Flawless cinematography and awe-inspiring visuals abound here and so often does it veer towards true greatness that I found myself imagining alternative approaches to the material.

Wouldn’t it be funny, I daringly thought, if someone else had narrated this piece? Someone like, oh I don’t know, Paris Hilton. Think of it. The penguins endure great hardships as they seek to procreate and the possibilities for alternative commentary seemed endless, at least to me. There’s lots of scenes where the penguins get tired of walking (these creatures spend half the year walking) and start sliding across the ice on their bellies and I can just imagine Paris screaming “Ooooooowwwwww!!!!” I pictured Paris questioning the director as to why they don’t speed things up and spare the penguins the trouble by tossing them into the back of her 4WD. “This climate is doing my skin no favours Lucy! I’m missing Oscar season and besides the big ones are dragging their legs doncha think?”

Eventually the penguins reach a venue where they wander amongst each other and slowly choose a mate. It would be at this point, I’m sure, that M. Jacquet would have to restrain Paris from joining the throng to make recommendations and discard the few she deemed unsuitable for mating. “But Lucy, gimme a break! Look at the size of the can on that ole fella and when was the last time this one had a pedicure?” As the older members of the tribe let out their high pitched scream they usually reserved for the blizzard scenes, I can see Paris, always desperate to fit in, set off with a similar wail which to M. Jacquet sounded no different from everything else she said and as he prayed for a giant albatross to jet in or one of those monstrous sea lions that prey on these penguins to come hurtling through the ice and enjoy one of Paris' calves as an entrée, he would watch in vague disbelief as the brood surrounded Paris and bizarrely claimed her as one of their own.

“See Lucy, didn’t I tell you I was the right one for this gig? This one’s been eyeing me since day one and this one’s had her beak pointed at my moleskin for a week now!!” As M. Jacquet wondered for the 100th time who Lucy was, he watched, this time in jaw-dropping disbelief as the penguins proceeded to gently nuzzle Paris and rub their fur against her far inferior Versace fur shorts when Paris let out a mating cry of her own. “No Lucy, I’m calling the shoot off! I’ve just found myself 200 of the best accessories any girl could hope for! I love them and they love me! Sue me if you dare!!!” As “Lucy” happily admitted defeat, Paris, for the first time in weeks, smiled and with that all hell broke loose. Suddenly the penguins seemed to realise that Paris would be enough to feed their litter for at least a day.

I imagine it would’ve been over very quickly and as M. Jacquet and his crew smilingly resumed filming, they realised the visuals spoke for themselves. Their March of the Penguins didn’t need a narrator at all.

Michael Dalton

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March of the Penguins

Director: Luc Jacquet
Release: Nationally on 13 April 2006
Rated: PG