Welcome to the Bees' Knees Film Society
Membership Complementary with Your Newsletter Subscription
We’re in the long-haul stretch of winter. The major holidays are behind us. Spring seems eons away. It’s dark and, for most of us, way too cold to garden. But what we can do is curl up with steaming cocoa for some streaming inspo. And guess what? I’ve got recommendations for you!
Fantastic Fungi — Netflix, 2019
Appropriately enough, this film has a psychedelic vibe. The time-lapse cinematography is eye-popping. Brie Larson doesn’t just narrate, she speaks – rapturously – for the mushrooms. It all makes for a mind-bending viewing experience. By the time they get to the part about hallucinogenic psilocybin, you are there for it. Fungi really are amazing, though. They’re everywhere. They were here on earth long before humans arrived and they’ll be around long after we depart. The film presents nature as intelligent and fungi as a vast natural communication system. The documentary’s central message is that fungi can help us save the planet and improve our lives if only we can muster the will to protect them and the science to harness their magic. Cleaning up oil spills, sequestering carbon, and easing depression are just a few of their apparently myriad powers. Having watched the movie, I’m motivated to join a local mycological society so I can learn more about these wondrous beings. I’ve also developed newfound respect for the molds that too often consume our neglected produce.
Suzanne Simard: How Trees Talk to Each Other — TED Talk, 2016
Speaking of vast natural communication systems, Suzanne Simard has conducted groundbreaking research on how trees not only talk among themselves, but also look out for one another. Mother trees nurture their seedlings! The key to these connections is the complex underground networks of fungal mycelium that Fantastic Fungi so vividly depicts. Ok, so a TED Talk is not really a film, but this is still worth watching, not least because it will take up only 18 minutes of your day. Simard has also written a book, Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest (Knopf 2021). Use the video to decide whether you’d like to make the literary commitment. Simard describes a forest as a single organism with its own form of intelligence (there’s that concept again). Within these systems, trees are not just competitors, but active collaborators. Simard advocates for sustainable forestry practices that promote biodiversity and save old-growth forests and “hub” trees. As she puts it, our task is to “give Mother Nature the tools she needs to use her intelligence to self-heal.” (As a side note, I can't resist a little shout-out here to my Simard cousins who are unrelated to Suzanne but equally awesome!)
E. O. Wilson - Of Ants and Men — PBS, 2015
I happened to watch this documentary on December 26, 2021. Unbeknownst to me at the time, it was the day biologist Edward Wilson died, making both the film and the person that much more poignant to me. He was perhaps the world’s foremost proponent of biodiversity. He was certainly the preeminent expert on ants, famously referring to insects as “these little things that run the world.” I gotta say, if the fungi and ants ever decided to gang up against us, we Homo sapiens would be pretty outmatched. Ants are eusocial, meaning they live in highly complex communities that rely on cooperation for survival. They communicate through pheromones. They exhibit intelligence. (Are you seeing the common thread here?) Wilson extrapolated from his study of ant societies to those of humans. In a thesis that was controversial in the 1970s but is now widely accepted, he argued that human social behavior is explained not just by culture (nurture), but also by biology (nature). In another of his great sound-bites, he attributed the dysfunctionality of our species to our “paleolithic emotions, medieval institutions and God-like technology.” Watch this film if you’re curious about the analogies between a colony of Matabele ants and a University of Alabama football game. Roll Tide!
The Biggest Little Farm — Hulu, 2018
When a nature cinematographer and his wife decide to quit the city and start a farm, you get a lushly captured documentary on their learning curve. By definition, agriculture involves domesticating wild processes and bending nature to human purposes, so I wasn’t expecting this film to resonate as deeply as it did with my interest in restoring habitats of native plants. John and Molly Chester’s goal was to use traditional methods to create a farm that could regenerate itself, without reliance on conventional pesticides or antibiotics. Their strategy was to establish the highest level of biodiversity possible, with the mantra that every species has a role in the ecosystem. Through considerable trial and error, they learned to work with nature, rather than against it, to solve the daily problems that erupted. The contrast between the arid desert they purchased and the verdant property they created could not be more dramatic. The story is told with beauty, humor and an adorable pup named Todd.
My Garden of a Thousand Bees — PBS, 2020
When a nature cinematographer gets locked down during a global pandemic, you get a lushly captured documentary on the wildlife in his backyard. Filmmaker Martin Dohrn built an amazing contraption, dubbed the Frankencam, that gives us unprecedented visibility – in super slo-mo and with perfect focus – into the antics of the wild bees in his very ordinary urban garden. We’re able to see co-evolution in practice: how some bees are designed specifically for certain flowers. We can see how pollination happens from blossom to blossom. How different species build their nests. How they forage. Dohrn also happens to be a charming narrator, introducing us to his buzzing neighbors much as a gossipy dinner party host would. We get to know the idiosyncrasies of scissor bees, leaf cutter bees, mason bees, wool carder bees and many others. It’s a delightful film.
Rivers and Tides: Andy Goldsworthy Working with Time — Tubi/Fandor or for rent/puchase on Amazon Prime, 2002
Andy Goldsworthy is a Scottish sculptor whose media are nature and time. Some of his installations have been exhibited in the US at the National Gallery of Art in DC, the Glenstone Museum in MD, the Storm King Art Center in NY, Stanford University, the Metropolitan Museum and the de Young Museum. Go see them if you can. But his best work – in this humble reviewer’s opinion – are the more ephemeral pieces that he builds in the wild with his bare hands from icicles, flowers, leaves, pinecones, twigs, mud and snow, and that are meant to melt, drift or blow away. These are preserved only in photographs or in a couple of films, this one included. The documentary is worth viewing for the art alone, which is stunning. You find yourself startled first by the abstract beauty, then by your recognition of the materials. It’s dandelions! In a puddle! In addition to the visuals, though, I love the simple but somehow radical concept of discovering and celebrating the underlying essence of a natural subject.
I didn’t realize it as I was compiling this list, but I now see a common thread: there is wisdom and agency in nature, and also beauty and healing in letting her use them.
If you know of other films that belong on the list, please share them!
While preparing this article, I became aware of the DC Environmental Film Festival, the 30th iteration of which will take place March 17-27, 2022. DCEFF will present more than 100 films, presumably most of them online. It bills itself as “Cannes for the green crowd.” My couch ain’t Cannes, but hey, I’ll take it. If you think you might be interested, you can register for updates here. The website also houses an archive of past festival films available for streaming. Among others, The Babushkas of Chernobyl caught my eye. I haven't watched it yet but based on the trailer, my new favorite drinking toast is, "goodbye brains, see you tomorrow!"
Thank you!