Allen (who I, as a ’90s kid, remember from “Home Improvement” and “Toy Story,” of course) does lots and lots of commentary here, basically dreaming up conversations between Oscar, his mother Isha, the group’s leader Freddy, and various other members of their unit. As Oscar, he’s a little bratty; as Isha, he’s an exhausted, but loving and patient, mother; as Freddy, he’s an established head honcho used to being in control. At times, Allen’s musings seem a bit too much—especially because his tone is mostly humorous, jarring against the film’s sometimes serious emotional content—but they provide nice lightness. When Allen mimes the exasperated tone of a chimpanzee unable to crack a walnut, even with a log bigger than himself, the kids at a recent press screening loved it.
It’s nice, then, that they’ll get a tidily done family-is-important narrative to go along with all of Allen’s chuckles and grunts. We’re introduced to a “precious baby boy named Oscar,” a wee little thing, all ears and elbows, who spends all his time snuggling up to his mom Isha; eating whatever she finds, prepares, and provides; or sleeping in the tree-bed she crafts each night. In their 35-member group, it is only Isha who cares for Oscar; their bond is her entire life, and other chimps—like alpha male leader Freddy—don’t interfere.
But Freddy’s leadership isn’t completely untested. His group’s bountiful territory, full of fruit trees and a plentiful nut grove, is coveted by older chimpanzee Scar, leader of a rival group of chimpanzees in an adjacent territory. We’re told that for years these groups have feuded, and after Scar decides to make a final push into Freddy’s land, Oscar’s life is changed forever. How he’ll be impacted, and the ways in which he is forced to adapt to this new existence, make up the eventual payoff of “Chimpanzee.”
Disneynature documentaries are known for their stunning visuals, and “Chimpanzee” wholly fits in that tradition. The film opens with scenes of misty, seemingly never-ending treetops, majestically churning waterfalls, and incredibly ripe fruit trees (full disclosure: I got hungry), and stays beautiful as things move along. Standouts are the scenes with glow-in-the-dark mushrooms, a formidable lightning storm, and millions of army ants swarming across the jungle floor. If you’re squeamish about insects or spiders, be aware—they’re everywhere in “Chimpanzee.”
But it’s important to note that directors Alastair Fothergill and Mark Linfield, who have worked on projects like “African Cats” and TV series “Planet Earth” and “Frozen Planet,” don’t gloss over the threats of this natural world. Fights between the chimpanzees, while not bloody, are thrilling and dangerous—the animals’ loud screeches, and the camera’s rapid movements as they following the chimps leading and bounding through the jungle, are probably meant to scare you. And they will, even though Allen sometimes lays it on thick with narration calling Scar and his group “thugs.”
Nevertheless, “Chimpanzee” does education well: Fights between groups of chimpanzees are an integral part of their dynamic, as are their use of tools and plan-making capability. You see how the chimpanzees employ rocks and logs to get what they want, whether it’s nuts, figs, or Sacoglottis fruit (similar to a kiwi), and you see them strategize and delineate responsibility, such as when they team up to hunt Colobus monkeys, hiding far up in the trees.
Do you ever forget that you’re watching a Disney production? Of course not. All the chimpanzees have names, they all come with personalities, and Allen fills in every blank possible with his narration, practically inserting thought bubbles over these animals’ heads. But the clear “product” feel of the documentary is cut by the legitimate work and beauty that went into it (stick around for the credits, which track the crew during filming). There’s no way you won’t learn, and while Allen’s cutesy asides (like “Oscar hates bedtime”) sometimes feel extraneous, “Chimpanzee” as a whole benefits from that balance between light humor and serious emotional themes. That “little rascal” Oscar is sure to warm your heart, even though you know that’s exactly what Disney wanted.
