|Winged Migration: Cosmic Commuters|
Columbia TriStar (DVD), ASIN B0000CGNEH
The Canadian clan stops traffic dead every morning and evening. No amount of automotive tooting deters their determination, either. First, one parent steps off the curb; then one freaky teenager after another follows suit. After looking both ways, the last parent produces the sound of the original horn: honk! At last, the human traffickers in insurance and commerce proceed freely on their way.
This scene recurs like clockwork between Freemansburg and Hellertown, Pennsylvania. Please consider priorities before challenging these perennials as tourists. You will become thoroughly annoyed if you assume human needs come first in the universe. These Canadian geese believe otherwise, and their know-it-all kids couldn't care less. The adults shelter them like loaves of bread baking in the sun down by the Lehigh River. No dogs better get any funny ideas about fun and feathers. If they do, the most unusual guards of the Vietnam era will cure their lapse in judgment.
If your neighborhood lacks such wonderful eccentricities, take heart. Winged Migration will fly you around the world and back in 89 minutes. This film manages to be so awesome that I can't bring myself to watch the end. The VCR sits there cooling its mechanical wheels. If all these diverse flocks fail to reach their destination, how can I face the Canadians in the morning? I stopped the machine once after hunters shot birds that made my heart pound. I tried again: In Eastern Europe, a winged trooper bogged down in slick obscenity. So, you may experience the finale before I do.
If I could give this movie 400 stars, I would. Every character in it knows more about stars than all of Hollywood put together.
Winging their way by stellar orientation, they travel thousands of miles just for the "eternal return." Through thunderclouds, they fly blind. Through skies of fire, they continue without blinders. When snow assaults them, they may catch a ride on a sea-going vessel. Out of the entire ocean, they can find a heat vent faster than the CIA and NASA working -- incomprehensibly -- together. If they want to transform themselves into torpedoes, they can. Then -- just when this stockpile of miracles seems impossibly full -- they produce an avant-garde performance of Swan Lake.
The Nutcracker Suite comes next. Every toddler who glories in waddling around in a costume enjoys a chance to pout and parade his way to fame.
Underneath all this gorgeous hoopla, the call of sex radiates everywhere and nowhere. Multi-colored species, in their magnificent plumage, climax this trip with a lover -- and a new family. The males celebrate their ecstasy with dances too exotic for Baryshnikov. The females prefer them to guns every single time. The orchestration underscores the aeronautical acrobatics so beautifully that the wind beneath their wings becomes Gregorian chant. Linguistic messages beyond our ken flicker into and out of the score's delicious melodies. The music of the universe starts down by the riverbank.
Afterthought: The NRA better not call here!
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