Week #5: Viewing Animals

Animals have been present in film since the earliest days of the technology. Humans have always been captivated by the wild worlds of the creatures they don’t understand. Film created a way for humans to experience the animal world in the safety and comfort of a movie theater, and eventually, in their own homes. However, it seems that filming animals as entertainment, often disguised as education, is putting both humans and animals in harm’s way.

As film technology advanced over the decades, and equipment became smaller and more versatile, filmmakers were able to shoot any subject anywhere they wanted. This opened up whole new worlds of possibility for filmmakers and the audiences they served. Portable equipment meant that the camera could go to the subject, instead of the other way around. Obviously, this allowed filmmakers to seek out animals in their natural habitat and gain new insights into their unique lives. The ability to observe animals in the wild offered audiences a new understanding of the animals that they so enjoy watching, but also created further problems for both humans and animals.

With the popularity of nature documentary films and television shows, there came an increased need to differentiate between products and exploit new methods of filmmaking. The move away from standard observational documentary signified a shift toward a much more dangerous trend. While audiences have always considered animals entertaining in their own right, human-animal interaction provides a sense of danger and immediacy to a film that animals alone cannot. There is an inherent danger in dealing with wild animals in any way, even trained and domesticated animals can act unpredictably in an unfamiliar setting. So, when people insert themselves into the lives of animals for the purpose of creating a film, the danger is not only still present, but also used as an incentive to watch.

This is extremely troubling. Human interference in animal lives for the purpose of entertainment is as misguided as it is dangerous. Anytime you see a film where people are interacting with wild animals there is always a warning to viewers to never attempt what they are seeing. The people in the films are always “experts” or “trained professionals” that are fully aware of the potential consequences of their actions. These interactions are antagonistic in their approach to filming animals and the human element that they add is unnatural. It is no wonder then that so many people who have attempted to interact with wild animals are often injured or even killed. Though the best intentions are often in place, the recklessness of many of these filmmakers is unbelievable. And though there is no doubt those filmmakers like Timothy Treadwell and Steve Irwin sought to educate their audiences about the animals that they loved, the message is ultimately a mixed one. The animal in the wild should be viewed with reverence and respect, and always from a distance. Man’s intrusion into the world of the wild, even when made with the best of intentions, can prove to have the harshest of consequences. In this way, human lives are needlessly lost, while animals are vilified for doing what, to them, is only natural.

A Few Words On Grizzly Man

Werner Herzog’s 2005 documentary, Grizzly Man, raises a lot of important questions about man’s relationship with nature. The film’s subject, Timothy Treadwell, headed into the Alaskan wilderness in search of a new life among the bears. Treadwell saw the world of the bears as a simpler, and more genuine way of life than his own. In many ways he was right. The life of a bear is much simpler than the life of a human, but it is often more violent, unforgiving, and hostile, especially toward outsiders. Treadwell devoted much of his life to living with the bears, and he found his eventual death among them as well.

Treadwell embraced the chaos and danger of the wilderness in his quest to protect bears and their natural habitat, but he was a troubled and misguided man. He immersed himself in the world of the bears, claiming to be their protector, but really only endangering himself. Treadwell was invading a foreign territory, inserting himself into a role that he deemed important and necessary. The bears are indifferent to the intentions of any intruder, and cannot identify with anything other than their own primal urges. Treadwell struggled with addiction and used his work with the bears as a motivation to become sober. However, he became dependent on the thrill of the wilderness lifestyle and was obsessed with the work and he threw himself completely into this pursuit. His obsessive need to view himself as a protector and savior of the bears bordered on megalomania. Treadwell projected his own desires onto the animals he loved so much. He saw the bears as needing him, not realizing that it was he who needed them.

Timothy Treadwell saw a clear distinction between the human world and the animal world, and he placed himself at the crux of the two. He saw humans as an enemy to the animals that he loved, and claimed that he was their sole guardian. What Treadwell couldn’t see was that his presence among the bears was as unnatural as anything could be. Animals deserve respect, especially in their natural habitat. Animals should be allowed to live uninhibited by any human action, and while Treadwell himself seemed to believe this, he still justified his actions in interfering with their lives. There seems to be no doubt that Timothy Treadwell did a lot to further awareness for bear protection and educated many people about nature and conservation. He was driven, ambitious, and daring. However, Treadwell confused his own needs with the needs of the animals he cared so much about. Treadwell turned away from society to escape a world he did not want to be a part of. In turning to nature, he mistook his own selfish desires for the needs of the creatures he could never truly understand.

On: Angels and Insects

What I found most interesting about Angels and Insects (Philip Haas, 1995) was the patriarch of the Alabaster family and the role he played in the film. The father is responsible for the bringing William Adamson into the house after the shipwreck and subsequent loss of all of his research. Sir Alabaster financed all of Adamson’s work and provides him with new opportunities upon Adamson’s return to England. Alabaster even allows William, who is of a working class background, to marry his daughter and enter into the wealthy family and a new life of privilege.

Sir Alabaster is so interesting because he sees such value in science and encourages William’s research at a time when scientific methods were a source of heated controversy among a devoutly religious society. Alabaster himself is a very religious man, and he expresses the conflict he feels between his religion and the science of evolution. However, Alabaster knows that scientific advancement is valuable to society for what knowledge it provides about our living Earth, rather than speculating about angels and demons battling over good and evil somewhere off in the ether. Sir Alabaster’s own inner conflict mirrors the conflict William experiences living life on the Alabaster estate.

William feels he owes a debt to Sir Alabaster for the many opportunities that he has provided, and he knows that he is an outsider among the wealthy Alabaster clan. William tutors the children and conducts research around the estate while he helps Sir Alabaster organize his own materials. But Alabaster’s own children seem to have little interest in the sciences and are only concerned with the pleasures provided by a life of privilege. William cannot relate to the lives of the wealthy aristocrats and is abhorred by the secrets he finds out about the family. William feels trapped in a life he doesn’t understand, much in the same way that Alabaster feels caught between his religion and science. There is no way that either could truly reconcile the two sides to find a middle ground.

Week 2: On Anthropomorphism

Anthropomorphizing is an interesting thing that we humans do. We project decidedly human attributes onto animals for many reasons, not the least of which is entertainment. Animals have been anthropomorphized in art and entertainment for centuries, and the practice seems to be as popular now as it has ever been. For some examples we can look to three distinctly different works which all anthropomorphize animals in some way, with differing effects.

Jean Painleve’s short film The Love Life of The Octopus (1965) is interesting in its treatment of its subject because of the mostly scientific approach taken by the filmmaker. The film focuses on the daily life of an octopus and how an octopus lives in relation to its surroundings. It gets interesting, however, when it starts to explain the mating process. This is where much of the anthropomorphizing begins. To say that any animal, outside of humans, might mate for the purpose of love would be delusional. Romantic love is something that only humans could truly be capable of understanding. The octopus, though an intelligent creature, has no need for love; instead it carries an inherent desire to reproduce with an acceptable partner for the purpose of continuing the species.

Disney’s The Lion King (1994) takes on a completely different approach, and one much more concerned with anthropomorphism for entertainment. The Lion King presents a world of animals that not only speak and feel, but are also motivated by power, love, and friendship. The Lion King is about a young lion’s attempt to win back the throne to which he is the rightful heir. Though power and social standing certainly play a pivotal role in the workings of packs of wild animals, in reality the consequences of such are much more simple and brutal than they are presented in this film. The Lion king politicizes the natural power struggle of animals in nature and presents a world of ambition, betrayal, and power among these animals that is so diabolical and corrupt that in reality it could only be true of humans.

Christopher Guest’s Best In Show (2000) is the example in which anthropomorphism is best exemplified, but not because it forces the audience to project human traits onto animals, but rather for the way in which it shows how often humans do ascribe such human traits on to the animals in their lives. The dog owners and handlers in the film are so hopelessly self-obsessed that they can’t help but project their own neuroses onto their pets. The film makes it easy to see that the animals are just playing their parts in a world dictated by the obsessions of their human masters. The dogs are not concerned with victory; they do not care about their appearance or any award. They are dogs. It is the humans that project these qualities on to the animals, and this movie lets us all see how ridiculous we look when we do such things.

Week 1: Cute vs. Anti-Cute

In the book “Cute, Quaint, Hungry, and Romantic: The Aesthetics of Consumerism” Daniel Harris writes:

“Something becomes cute not necessarily because of a quality it has but because of a quality it lacks, a certain neediness and inability to stand alone, as if it were an indignant starveling, lonely and rejected because of a hideousness we find more touching than unsightly.”

We ascribe cuteness on to objects that we deem defenseless and in need of our affection and support. We gain a sense of pleasure from pitying those things that we view as deserving of our sympathy. Stuffed animals are designed to be soft and plush, with rounded immobile limbs perfect for squeezing and holding. Yet the true-life counterparts to these stuffed animals are anything but. Wild animals surely do not need humans to care for and caress them.

Anthropomorphism is another way we project “cuteness” on to animals by envisioning them with distinctly human characteristics. Countless cartoon animals have entertained children and adults alike for decades; mice, rabbits, pigs, birds, jungle cats, etc. have all been anthropomorphized in cartoons to create cutely comical situations for our enjoyment. However, as Harris notes: “cuteness is an aesthetic under siege”. More and more frequently in today’s media the “anti-cute” is gaining popularity. Cartoon animals are no longer just the sweetly naïve do-gooders of yesteryear. Today we see cartoon animals drinking, smoking, and swearing, they have problems that more people can relate to and are more and more taking on the harsh light of humanity. The anthropomorphism is present in both the “cute” and “anti-cute” alike, but this new breed resembles humans more and depends on them less. If we see cuteness in anthropomorphized animals as a need for protection and care then the new aesthetics of “anti-cute” are roundly rejecting the idea of neediness and asserting an unconcerned coexistence and shared grief with their human counterparts.