James R | On 29, Apr 2022

Director: Marie Amiguet, Vincent Munier
Cast: Vincent Munier, Sylvain Tesson
Certificate: 12

“We had to accept the depressing idea that the Earth reeks of humans.” Those are the words of photographer Vincent Munier and novelist Sylvain Tesson as they venture through the Tibetan mountains in search of the elusive snow leopard. The further they get from human civilisation, the more they come to reflect on the nature of humanity and its relationship with the natural world – a self-reflexive, self-examination that is just as revealing when it comes to human nature.

After all, the very reason for the snow leopard being so rare is humanity’s own treatment of the planet, leading the species into dwindling, endangered numbers – which only makes it a more enticing specimen for Munier and Tesson to track down. That they can’t do so without talking about their own existence and ideologies is the irony on the icy cake.

If all this sounds a bit heavy-handed for a nature documentary, you wouldn’t be wrong: The Velvet Queen is as talkative as eco-docs get, playing out like David Attenborough’s chatty cousin who spent his gap year abroad. But push past its penchant for philosophising and you’ll discover a moving, spellbinding ode to nature – a calm, absorbing and visually stunning feat of filmmaking.

Director Marie Amiguet, who co-helms with Munier, knows that, for all the words flying about, the pictures can speak for themselves, and the footage of the wildlife this odd couple encounter is gorgeously understated. From falcons on cliffs to antelopes, foxes and bears, they’re all found in their natural habitats with an admiration and enthusiasm that’s infectious – and commentary that would do Werner Herzog proud, as we hear of “yellow eyes rectifying with a demonic glint its plush cuddliness”.

It’s this humble attitude that gives the film its strength; while it takes the form of a pursuit, there’s no trace of the aggrandising arrogance of humans hunting animals, as the aim is only to shoot them with cameras. The title, The Velvet Queen (translated from the more straightforward “La Panthère des Neiges”), gives you a clue as to the spirit of the endeavour; it’s a quest to respect and reify this magical feline, with a hushed patience underpinning the 92-minute runtime – it’s not until near the end that the leopard even makes an appearance, and it’s more than worth the wait.

Munier describes encountering animals as like an act of “rejuvenation”, and the song that accompanies the end credits (by the genius that is Nick Cave) taps into that notion – and maintains the mesmerising impact of seeing an animal that lives far from human eyes, while also being acutely aware that the animal is watching us in turn. The result is a thoughtful meditation on solitude that’s steeped in sentiment – but unlike, say, My Octopus Teacher, its prosaic, introspective musings don’t distract from, or intrude upon, the animals’ own experiences, our narrators falling into hushed reverence when confronted with their prize.

 

This review was originally publishing during the 2022 Borderlines Film Festival.

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