I’ve spent a lot of time watching documentaries to get into the mindset of the National Geographic issue. It was just a good excuse to reconnect with Daddy David, really. But it made me think about the people behind the documentaries, and how sad it is that the University no longer offers a course for aspiring filmmakers.
At some point in your life you, like most others who grew up with the captivating croon of David Attenborough’s narration, wanted to be just like him when you grew up. Remember when your spare time was spent equipped with your family’s camcorder, marching into the backyard and doing some good old fashioned exploring? The last time you thought about this childhood dream was probably while zooted on your couch, one bloodshot eye trained on the UberEats tracker, the other on a praying mantis eating the head of her mate. “Queen,” you chuckle.
But despite what Daddy David would have you think, wildlife documentaries are no walk in the rainforest. More like a trudge, a slog, laden down with equipment, swatting at mosquitoes, hoping the risk of malaria and trench foot from hours spent spotting the elusive stick insect is worth it in the end. And then getting the bugger to stay still for his mugshot. The people behind documentaries have my utmost admiration – and the University used to teach them.
Kids have this wonderful fascination with the world that David tapped into – that all science communication taps into, really. I was one of those kids who wanted to be just like David or the army of science communicators found at BBC, the Discovery Channel, and National Geographic. You might not have known it, but the illustrious University of Otago used to be the proud host of a world-renowned course that laid the path to make those dreams come true: a Master of Science Communication. I completed the one-year Postgraduate Diploma that gave me a peek into the behind the scenes. Before the University cut the course, that is.
Something you learnt in the ‘wildlife’ unit of the film-making paper was how annoyingly unpredictable nature is. One day, I found myself filming the ducks in the Botans. After mocking me for my hungover state – part of a pattern of nonchalant behaviour towards the course I now regret – my lecturer handed me a tripod and camera, pointed at the pond and said, “Good luck.” And God, he was right. The little fuckers wouldn’t do as they were told, unlike my short-film partner’s boyfriend who’d been sullenly ordered around a climbing gym for a previous project. It was a game of cat (me) and mouse (duck) trying to anticipate their every move to set up the right shot.
At one point, having just about given up, I resorted to setting up a shot with the right framing and stared through fuzzy eyes at the screen, waiting for the elusive waterfowl to grace my lens with its presence. The blurry footage of duck feet was narrated by surly swearing as I bum-shuffled through duck shit to the next prime spot in increasingly vain attempts to highlight the majestic beasts’... waddling pattern?
Two films that demonstrate the mahi that goes into these documentaries are Our Planet: Behind the Scenes and Chasing Coral. If I thought it was difficult getting a duck to sit still – an easily located, abundant and relatively slow-going species – these film-makers took that on the grand scale. In one instance, a team of people sunk two years into capturing footage of the rare Siberian tiger, involving five week stints of remote self-isolation by some dedicated individuals in huts the size of a walk-in wardrobe. It goes without saying that the final sequence was more valuable than gold (or that long-awaited kebab after a night out). And it was all for the greater good of bringing awareness to our natural world.
Call me biased, but the lengths that science communicators go to – spanning to the far corners of the globe to capture moments that you’d otherwise know nothing about, packaging it in a compelling narrative, and bringing it to your (probably stoned) attention – is one of the most important, the most noble of professions. In this issue, we’ve included a list of short films produced by the University's very own Daddy Davids, the final generation of students at Otago who were able to live out their childhood dreams and tell the story of the endlessly interesting world we live in. Send me a letter of what you learn.