The planet of Netflix offers thrills, but something is missing



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Photo: Netflix

In the opening episode of Our planet, The new documentary on the nature of Netflix, there is a scene where a glacier that collapses from the ice cap of Greenland begins to spit chunks of ice. Zooming in on aerial images, high-level shots and a water-level view against explosive cracks shows the collapse of cliffs and the fragmentation of shredded white and blue ice .

When I spoke with Adam Chapman, one of the producers of the series, he told me to be present and to shoot the scene beginning, Christopher Nolan's movie where thieves invade people's dreams and unconsciousness. Indeed, the breathtaking images of 75 million tonnes of ice falling into the ocean are of a dreamlike quality. But this nightmare is our reality, and while Our planet With David Attenborough's smooth and velvety narration, flaming music, breathtaking cinematography, and all the other pitfalls of a documentary on nature, he recounts unabashedly the story of a planet where being human is now the dominant force.

Our planet is the first non-nature documentary, and its message is this: for the first time, a living species on Earth will choose what the future will look like. And this species is us. Although the series itself presents its arguments, the steps it asks the viewer to take are minor at a time when we need to completely (and quickly) rethink our relationship with the planet.

In numbers alone, it's clear Our planet was a laborious enterprise. It took four years to shoot the series, 2,000 hours of diving, 400,000 hours of videos, and visits to 60 countries. The resulting eight-part series takes viewers on a journey around the world.

We witness intimate scenes of a family of orangutans in Borneo, a feeding shark frenzy in French Polynesia and a solitary Siberian tiger hunting in the snowy forest, as well as vast landscapes of the Serengeti to the boreal forest. Humans appear in just One scene, that of throwing fishing nets in Alaska to catch herring, notes that Attenborough has been "significantly reduced" due to overfishing. There are also some satellite images of changes in land use over time, crumbling ice, and palm groves rubbing against the natural forest suggesting human influence, but it is Attenborough's narration that shows how much we have changed many scenes.

Photo: Doug Anderson / Netflix / Silverback

The moment that most shocked me was the arrival of a walrus in the Arctic. Ocean warming has shrunk sea ice, forcing walrus to snuggle more often on the shore. In unsustainable images, Our planet shows walruses climbing cliffs then, feeling the movement of the flock underneath, throwing themselves to their death on the rocks while the rest of the group disperses in the water. Their bloated corpses in the lowlands were then used to feed the polar bears, who also spend more time on the land thanks to climate change.

"It's crappy," my wife said as we watched. I dreamed of dead walruses later in the night.

The show is not completely depressing, though. It shows how marine protected areas have contributed to the recovery of humpback whales and that the restoration of fisheries has led to a revitalization of shorebirds. The final segment of the final episode focuses on the return of wildlife to the Chernobyl exclusion zone. Put the show on mute and admire the buzzing of trees rising among the buildings. The scene could come from a sci-fi movie where the man would live in harmony with nature.

All this makes the eloquent argument that humanity is not only the driving force of our planet, but the measures we will take together next will decide the fate of the fauna with which we share it. Yet, the biggest things I clung to watching Our planet were the progressive steps that he advocates taking his viewers and the general lack of humanity, which is so central in the narrative put forward by the show.

Photo: Kieran O'Donovan / Silverback / Netflix

At a certain level, that makes sense: I mean, who wants to look at carbon dioxide spewing chimneys or farmers using slash-and-burn agriculture when we can look at a shrew on a foundry and hear David Attenborough pronounce the "moron?" at the same time, the central principle of the series, that we have the choice and that we can repair the planet, first needs to know what the problem is. Our planet talk about climate change without ever mentioning the industrial activity that drove it. On-screen solutions are global solutions for conservation, like protecting more oceans, which we should do, but neither the show nor the website explains how viewers can help ensure that this happens. It does not even say that oil companies, large farms and other massive industries are causing climate change, let alone how to hold them accountable.

Instead, Attenborough says at the end of each episode that you can visit a website to find out how to help you. Yet, this site offers only the most classic solution of neoliberal solutions. As a consumer, you can commit to consuming responsibly when redirected to the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) website. Once you've signed it, I'm sure it's only a matter of time before the first fundraising e-mail arrives in your inbox. This in itself is extremely problematic given the recent survey of how WWF is supporting wildlife rangers who have committed serious human rights violations. The other option is to add your voice to call for urgent action on a cool and cool globe on the website, which also sends your email to WWF. These solutions have about as much to do with the solutions presented on screen in Our planet as a walrus does with a deep sea oar fish.

I strongly believe in "doing your part", but the solutions Our planet offers are a sad coda after watching the show. The problems facing our world require a change of system and not the signing of petitions. I've really enjoyed the show for what it is, but if the goal is to mobilize the masses to avoid the sixth mass extinction, I do not think it will serve as much heading correction.

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