At about 80 minutes apiece, neither Planet Earth Of The Apes film has much time to make an impression, so they waste little when setting their tones. This comes first from the narrators. In his prime, nobody could compete with David Attenborough’s delicate dignity. Now pushing 100, he’s still got it, both doing voiceover and on-camera interviews for the film as he recalls making contact with a group of gorillas on the mountains of Rwanda almost 50 years prior. Manning the Orangutan microphone, following the likes of Meghan, Duchess Of Sussex, Morgan Freeman, and Meryl Streep, is Josh Gad—already a black mark for the Disney film. But the goofy choice of Gad has a similar effect as including Attenborough: Where the latter adds a wistful profundity to the generations-long look at a gorilla clan, the former’s Bob Saget-like lack of gravitas means these orangutans’ lives take on the timbre of Planet’s Funniest Animals.
This is the essential division between the films. Orangutan is explicitly kid-oriented, less awestruck and more condescending, with grating patter, constant Mickey Mousing, and terrible needledrops (including a couple renditions of “I Wan’na Be Like You (The Monkey Song)”). It also takes a more naïve tone when discussing the realities of life in the wild, with talk of bedtimes awkwardly chafing against discussions of fertility and male aggression. But though its remarkable footage has been crafted into something lighter and more annoying, it’s not necessarily more welcoming to a young audience than A Gorilla Story, which mirrors its story of a gorilla family with that of the world’s best-known environmentalist. It’s this ambition—linking the misty mountaintop’s cyclical births, comings-of-age, and deaths to the long career of its host—that makes the preservation-forward point almost all these kinds of film strive for: Animals, they’re just like us.
There’s effective and affecting humanization in both this week’s ape-umentaries—with enthralling footage of orangutans both making tools and showing each other how to use them, and of gorillas goofing off in order to bond with each other—but there’s another layer to A Gorilla Story. By having Attenborough revisit archival footage of his first interaction with these gorillas, then juxtaposing these moments with scenes of their offspring shot with modern techniques, the film allows for both behind-the-scenes commentary about the lasting impact these animals made on Attenborough (he describes playing with one, a gregarious baby named Pablo, as the most important moment of his professional life) while also serving as a steady throughline that shows off how nature filmmaking has evolved over half a century. There may be far more drones and digital cameras, but the desire to name these apes and tell little stories—of love and power and perseverance—about their lives has persisted over the decades.
Attenborough also, to his credit, pays his respects to groundbreaking primatologist Dian Fossey during the film, helping weave the story of the film’s gorillas into the larger narrative of humanity’s attempt to understand them. That’s a far more inviting idea for a burgeoning naturalist than trying to pay attention to the majesty of the Southeast Asian rainforest while Olaf The Snowman rolls out a succession of overwritten jokes. Still, if that’s what it takes to introduce kids to such odd critters as the slow loris, draco lizards, flying snakes, and gliding frogs that surround the orangutans, that’s a relatively cheap price to pay. While, if pitted against one another, there is a clear victor in this chill battle of the Earth Day eye candy, the films are actually instructive if taken in together. The old guard who helped pioneer the format and the modern craftspeople working to fit it alongside cartoons still share a visible affection for every creature on screen, which comes with a human touch.
Keep scrolling for more great stories.