AFTER THREE husbands and four kids, 40-something Nénette has come to terms with widowhood. The ageing redhead’s circumstances are not all they might be; her Parisian residence is small and doubly cramped by the presence of her grown up son, Tübo, who, we come to understand, will not be leaving home any time soon.
Likely menopausal and definitely cantankerous, Nénette, when she isn’t occupied with yoghurt and elaborate tea-making rituals, stares out the window. She looks bored but never says anything. Those who see her project all kinds of things onto her doleful, silent expression.
Nénette, an orangutan who has resided at the Jardin des Plantes zoo since 1972, is the subject of the latest documentary from Nicolas Philibert, author of such painstakingly detailed celluloid compositions as To Be and to Have. Even that film, a vérité study of accumulated learning at a rural single-class school and an unexpected international hit, seems comparatively imprecise set beside this curious exercise in pure cinema.
Composed mostly from static close shots taken through the protective glass of Nénette’s enclosure, this minimalist bio-doc looks and feels like an installation piece. Any plot is derived from overheard visitors and disembodied testimonies from the subject’s zookeepers. We occasionally glimpse Tübo or the vague outline of excited schoolchildren reflecting off surfaces, but, like Nénette, we’re behind glass.
Why are we here exactly? This is not a campaigning piece, but its sustained focus and proximity makes it hard to avoid ethical considerations. Modern zoos have abandoned ornate raven cages and shallow art deco seal pools in favour of conservation and education programmes. The living conditions at the Jardin des Plantes are less ideal. There are deep scratch marks on the door; the ennui is heavy even by Gallic standards.
This is an old-school, close and closed-quarters exhibit space because the director has more interest in the spectator than the spectacle. Nénetteis Zoo Year Zero. The film marvels at a distant relative in captivity as if it's a novelty. It wants to take you back to 1842, when exotic animals were the rage and when – more than a decade before On the Origin of Species– Queen Victoria visited London Zoo to catch a glimpse of Jenny, an orangutan.
"The orang-outang is too wonderful," she wrote, "frightful and painfully and disagreeably human."
Plus ça change, as Nénette might say.