David:

(If this is taking too long to load or is playing too jerkily, go here.)

Oprah:

Actually, it’s even worse than this in the version I saw in “Challenges of Life” episode: they cut the sound effects (stopwatch and slamming noises), altered and dumbed down the narration further, and cut the scenes of the flies suffering at the end. Apparently, in addition to subbing Oprah for David, they rewrote the script in many places and replaced it with a hack job a freshman biology student appears to have penned. (Sample dialogue: “The thing about mating is, that it has some fairly predictable consequences.” ) Worse, they replaced the beautiful soundtrack with the cheesiest Musak they could find, changed the sound effects, and cut, changed the tone, or destroyed the narrative of some of the most poignant scenes (possibly for time since Discovery Channel, unlike BBC, has commercials). The American title sequence was so bad (and sooooo different from the moving yet understated British opening to Planet Earth with the sun dawning over the planet in an inky black sky) that I thought it was yet another preview or commercial. Shame on you, Discovery Channel. SHAME.

They even changed their facts in some places. In the American version, Oprah claims some grebes are Western grebes, and that they are monogamous but switch partners every season. In the British version, David says the very same grebes are Clark’s grebes and that they mate for life. So which is right? I’ll put my money on David. How many more inconsistencies are there? I only noticed these because I happened to have seen a preview of the British version of this scene.

Completing the Failure Trifecta, Netflix ONLY offers Americans the corporate pablum Oprah version. That’s right, America. You aren’t even considered bright enough to be given the option of watching the grown-up British version. Shame on you, Netflix. SHAME.

Don’t believe me? Think I’m exaggerating for effect? A (non-random) sampling of customer comments from Netflix:

Oprah Winfrey narrating Life in place of Sir David Attenborough is like having Donald Trump narrate for Jacques Cousteau. The one with the original audio will be out later, and I’ll be waiting for that one. (From a one-star reviewer)

This would be a 5+ Rating if it wasn’t dubbed over by Oprah Winfrey without any way to change it back to the original Attenborough. Epic Fail to not include the original language, and epic fail on NF for choosing this version over the original. (Yet another one-star review)

I too would give it 5 stars only if Oprah hadn’t ruined it. I’ve since purchased the Sir David Attenborough’s narrated version so that I could enjoy the rest of the series and would agree with many others, Oprah shouldn’t be narrating anything regarding the natural world – corporate explotation in my opinion. (You guessed it — one-star review)

Please bring the David Attenbourgh version to NF. I’m sure the Oprah version was cheaper (no one is buying it), but there was a reason for that. I had real trouble with the fact that the narrator cannot pronounce the words correctly.

What the heck??? I thought this was supposed to be narrated by Sir David Attenborough? Instead Oprah Winfrey sounds like she is narrating for a group of children… this is insulting. I had to turn it off, and I am going to order the Original BBC version.

You cannot substitute David Attenborough. His love and knowledge for nature is unmatched. You can’t have someone like Oprah narrate this. It’s an attrocity. I couldn’t finish watching the last bit of it because I wanted to punch Oprah.

It was so unwatchable and so unrecognizable as the original, high-quality product I’ve come to know and expect from the Beeb that I’m sending my DVD back and refusing to watch further until the powers that be at Netflix release the Attenborough version from its corporate prison. Come on, Netflix. Do the right thing.

This is an abstract, arty, and contemplative film that, though it takes no overt position on its subjects and never states it explicitly, poses the question: Why are the Japanese, alone among world cultures, so into insects? There is no pat answer. The filmmaker presents clues, and it is up to you, the viewer, to process what you’re given and draw a conclusion. The ordering seems important sometimes; confusing, contradictory, or enigmatic at others. Along the way, there are many scenes that are difficult to fit in — possibly by design — like jigsaw pieces that may or may not belong in the box. Many are beautiful little treats that can be savored visually in their own right. One short shot, possibly my favorite of the film, simply focuses on the soft patter of rain on water and shows an Escheresque and seemingly impossible illusion of the water moving both left and right at the same time. It must be seen to be believed.

It takes some patience, and perhaps repeat viewings, to fully digest Oreck’s film. In addition to the enigmatic scenes, the film is in Japanese with subtitles, and the subtitles sometimes move a bit quickly, making it tricky to take in both the visuals and the narrative at the same time. But the film was creative, original, and unique. Oreck said after the screening that she *had* to make the film — there was no choice about it. No one else had or would tell that story unless she did.  I can relate to and support that kind of vision and passion. I’d rather watch 100 Beetle Queens than 5 McNature documentaries (*cough* Mcgillivray-Freeman *cough*). Oreck opens a window into a beautiful little world of beetles and a culture of insects that you’d probably never stumble upon otherwise. It was so heartening to see Japanese children actually playing with beetles instead of video games, learning to pin butterflies in school, and going along on insect catch-and-release expeditions or firefly appreciation trips with their parents as a fun way to spend a Friday night. If only we should be so lucky here. Recommended.

Here’s a further taste of the delights that await us (with the correct Attenborough narration):

Life – Venus Flytraps: Jaws of Death – BBC One from Paulo Martins on Vimeo.

Is it just me or do those hairs remind you of the time-delayed booby traps laid for Indiana-Jones style adventurers in gold-laden caves? You know, the kind where you rest your arm on a stone projecting from the wall, and 10 seconds later it starts moving into the wall as the ceiling sprouts spikes and assumes skewering speed? Yeah. I really did feel bad for the little flies after they got trapped, though. Although their slurping of nectar with that repulsive labellum-tipped proboscis really was revolting (where has that been?) and I have no qualms about mercilessly swatting them around my home, they are living creatures too, and their little cries of despair were truly pitiful. Perhaps I’d make a good Jain after all.

Venus flytraps are in the Droseraceae, the Sundew Family, along with the sundews and a curious little package called the waterwheel plant, which is essentially an aquatic flytrap, but sadly does not occur in the western hemisphere. This family is in the Caryophyllales, a group of related plants that have evolved many ways of living in nutrient-poor and/or hot, dry soils. These include clever heat-beating photosynthetic adaptations (C4 and CAM for you biogeeks in the know), salt-secreting glands, and insect carnivory. See here for an idea of their place on the tree of life (click on the arrow to the left to back out and get a bigger picture).

In case you’re wondering, the title of this post is both a reference to the infamous “Uma, Oprah” David Letterman debacle at the 1995 Oscars and to the bird Upupa epops, the hoopoe (pronounced hupu), which happens to have the favorite scientific name of my friend and birdsong enthusiast Nathan Pieplow, who blogs over at earbirding.com.

Then six years later he produced “Winged Migration”, another stunning yet nearly wordless work of art that was an order of magnitude better than the popular favorite “March of the Penguins” released a few years later*. Again he displayed his talent for engaging us emotionally in the lives, struggles, and wonders of being a bird.

Though I still prefer “Microcosmos” (insects are more intriguing to me than most birds), this film has also stuck with me. I’ll never forget the moment when a sage grouse first performed (WARNING: SPOILER. Do not click link if you plan to see the film. Which I hope I have convinced you you should) its mating tupperware burp and Dolly-Parton-inspired ladies’-man dance in the film (clip not from the film but this must be seen to be believed). The whole audience gasped, and then laughed. Several years later I was lucky enough to see this live when I moved to Wyoming.

So it was with great excitement that I read today that Perrin has released a new film in France, “Oceans“, that is dominating the box office. I cannot, cannot wait until it surfaces here.

From the Time Magazine article on the film:

Most French reviewers seem to agree, however, that Océans is Perrin’s most effective work yet in terms of evoking solidarity with endangered nature. It is part of his agenda. He told Le Monde, “We’re entertainers, and I don’t want to be pretentious and start moralizing. But Océans is part of our means of persuasion. We must react urgently, protect, create blue helmets for the sea. Otherwise, humanity is headed toward an unbearable solitude.”

Read more: http://www.time.com/time/arts/article/0,8599,1957939,00.html#ixzz0eLpwgXH8

You all know that I couldn’t agree more. It is the philosophy of this blog too.

And in case you’re curious, if you want to see how they packaged it for “American” audiences, see here. This does not speak well of our national character, or at least what Hollywood thinks is the only way they can market to “American” audiences. Apparently, if it’s not warm-blooded and fuzzy, or involves a gripping action scene with a pounding techno soundtrack, we’re not interested. Sigh.

Still can’t wait to see the film. Yay, Jacques Perrin! The world needs as many of his films as we can get. And Jacques, in case you’re reading this, the world is ready for the first big-screen protist, slime mold, diatom, lichen, alga, and fungus documentary. Trust me. Thank you.

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* I actually felt March of the Penguins was only an average nature documentary. My feeling at the time was its popularity could only be explained by the disappearance of all other good old-fashioned nature documentaries, and people remembering what they liked about them. I’ve already talked about “The Animal Bothering Show” style pioneered fairly colorfully by Steve Irwin but copied rather lifelessly by many others. Most of these shows teach you very little coherent about nature — certainly not in the way a David Attenborough documentary does or Wild America did, calmly and quietly following the cutthroat trout through the seasons of its life for a year, inviting you to meditatively take in the sound of the bubbling brook as the fish goes about the business of life. Then again, I’m a nerd. I probably wouldn’t get bored at an 8-hour Proust lecture. : )

Wow! Amazing, huh? Though the bit halfway when the researchers listen to the seals under the ice does have somewhat of the feel of the final scene of a local 8th grade production of Hamlet when everyone “dies”.

In case you don’t know Werner Herzog, he is the director who gave us the documentary “Grizzly Man” about Timothy Treadwell. Remember him? He was the man who lived with bears in Alaska and ended by being consumed by one along with his girlfriend while his video camera recorded audio of the whole thing. I quite recommend the film, if for no other reason than to see a portrait of a man consumed by his passion, however misguided, and of the jaw-droppingly gorgeous beauty of the vast remote region of Alaska he lives in. Would that we all could spend a few months there each summer, simply watching the grass get tossed by the wind or the streams ripple over the rocks. Of course, not so much with the getting eaten by grizzlies part.

Herzog also famously hauled a 320-ton steamship over an isthmus in Peru for the filming of “Fitzcarraldo” (a feat so Cameron-esque someone else made a documentary about it) and has produced a slew of critically-acclaimed but otherwise little known art house feature films and documentaries. “Grizzly Man” did receive some measure of success and fame, and one of his next films — “Rescue Dawn” — was shown widely enough that even my parents saw it.

This clip is from “Encounters at the End of the World”, which apparently came out in 2007, though I was oblivious. As expected, it has sterling marks on Rotten Tomatoes. It has now been added to the Netflix queue.

You can find how seals fit into the mammals here; here’s more on Weddell Seals, the composers of this unearthly music.

Why do I suddenly feel . . . melancholy? Image by Anastasia Shesterinina, distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 3.0 License. Click image for link.

Oh, Sir David Attenborough . . . how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. Blue Planet . . .  Planet Earth . . . Life in the Undergrowth . . . and a gem I just recently encountered, his 1979 BBC debut, Life on Earth. I haven’t seen it, but apparently someone rummaging through a British charity store recently encountered one of only about 100 copies of its score the composer ever pressed, and they’re now being offered for sale on CD online.

Listening to the meditative and elegant sample tracks of Gymnopedie for Jellyfish, or Arabesque for Flatworms, I am transported back to the nature documentaries that aired on the lazy Sundays of my childhood, in which the pace was slow as molasses and many long moments passed narrator-free so as to better contemplate the mystery of nature. Behold: the brook trout spawning, or the grizzly grabbing salmon.  It was a simpler time, when the TV’s four channels (CBS, ABC, NBC, and PBS, which in my little remote corner of rural southeast Tennessee went snowy all night, to return to the air early the next morning preceded by the Star Spangled Banner and space shuttle lifting off) were inhabited by the likes of Marty Stouffer’s Wild America and Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom(I briefly considered naming this blog wildkingdoms.com, but it turned out the domain was already taken). How I miss them sometimes.

I also briefly considered buying the Life on Earth soundtrack, but after doing the Dollar-Pound conversion and learning it’d cost me $21 to buy and ship to Colorado, the cheapnik in me won out. And Life on Earth itself remains out of grasp for now too. Though it has been released to DVD in the UK, the US has not been so fortunate. That is a shame, because the British Film Institute ranked it 32nd in the top 100 British Television Programs of all time, ahead of Walking with Dinosaurs and the 1995 Colin Firth-Jennifer Ehle Pride and Prejudice (Why is that ranked only 99th? Why? Why?) Wikipedia has some sort of conspiracy theory about Life on Earth never being released here because of its (gasp!) explicit evolutionary content, but plenty of other evolution-based programs have been put on DVD here no problem so I have a hard time buying that. Here’s a clip (featuring a very young David Attenborough) on the making of it to give you a taste for what you’re missing:

In any case, we will hopefully soon have the next best thing because we still have D.A. with us, and he has done a bit of a re-do of Life on Earth that is currently airing on BBC One: Life. Though all my British readers may be having a “Duh!” moment here, most of us in America are quite ignorant of it — or at least I was until about two weeks ago. Let’s hope this Life does find a way — to jump the pond.

Have any British readers seen it yet? Any early reviews? And Discovery Channel, if you are reading this, please leave David Attenborough’s narration intact in any US broadcasts. No Sigourney Weaver, Morgan Freeman, or (god forbid) Tom Cruise. Your attention to this matter is greatly appreciated. Thank you.