 Microcosmos (1996) Yuck! Well, I suppose I can't blame them for pulling a few tricks aiming to get the masses on board. Thankfully, the film has nothing at all to do with its marketing, and remains smart, tasteful, beautiful, and in spots amazing. Created by the same folks who later did Winged Migration, Microcosmos tells a similar tale, but instead of birds, it's bugs. Extreme close-ups in crystal clarity present the insect world as something you have never imagined: vibrantly full of life and personality, with as much emotion, struggle, and love as you'll find in the human world … maybe more. Structured to follow a one-day sunrise-to-sunset trajectory, it offers shot after shot of bugs doing their things: "matin', hatin', and pollinatin'," as my old-fashioned black entemologist grandfather used to say. Ladybugs, beetles, earthworms, spiders, praying mantises, dragonflies … the gang's all here. It's beautifully done, paced like a ballet and accompanied by mostly operatic music that accompanies each sequence perfectly. Microcosmos will make you think twice about squashing that ant next time you see one in your bathroom. You'd be more justified squashing your fucking husband … that lame jackass barely lifts a finger to bring a bottle of beer to his greasy lips, much less lifting a hundred times his own weight for the good of his family.
Review by Walter Poozie |