“We’re the young generation and we have something to say.” As Monkey Kingdom begins, a group of toque macaque monkeys are hanging off branches and jumping from tree to tree in the ancient ruins of Sri Lanka. They look free and wild, maybe even young, but soon we learn that the Monkees lyrics are less than apt. These monkeys adhere to a strict social hierarchy, where each member lives according to expectations. At least that’s the story told by Disneynature’s eighth anthropomorphic adventure, which attempts to give a voice to those monkeys born on the bottom rungs of the social ladder, and ends up using them to impart a clichéd moral lesson.
Monkey Kingdom follows Maya as she struggles to survive in a competitive community at Castle Rock. Maya sleeps at the bottom of the tree, huddled for warmth with the other lower caste members of the tribe. She’s among the last to feed and spends her days picking lice from monkeys born into a higher standing, including the Sisters, a trio of ruthless lady monkeys with ominous red faces. Raja, the alpha male, sits at the top of the group, preventing anybody from rising to his rank. He’s none too happy when Kumar arrives. This interloper is “15 pounds of hunky monkey”, quips Tina Fey, the film’s narrator, by way of explaining Maya’s attraction to him. Though Raja quickly ensures Kumar’s departure, Maya is left pregnant with Kip, their son.
The Disneynature-style dramatic plotting continues when Castle Rock is overrun by a group of neighboring monkeys. These interlopers aren’t just other monkeys, looking for bugs and berries. Instead, the film presents them as “bad news,” easy for us to dislike. Slow motion shots linger on details that we might otherwise miss, such as the deep scars in the face of the rival tribe alpha or the mutilated ears of his second-in-command. Alternatively, slow motion creates sympathy for Maya and Kip. While Raja and the Sisters huddle under Castle Rock for shelter during a monsoon, Maya sits on the outskirts, hugging Kip close to her body to shield him from the rain. A close-up on Maya gives the impression she is miserable yet persevering, inspiring our sympathy for her plight.
That plight and her position in her tribe are reframed when she leads her tribe to safety in a nearby city. As she’s spent so much time on the ground, the movie proposes, Maya is also a resourceful scavenger in the new urban jungle, unlike Raja and the Sisters. Car horns and rumbling trains replace the sounds of birds screeching and trees rustling; cell towers and power lines become the monkeys’ new trees and vines. Maya and her tribe trek deeper into the city where dangerous, terrifying creatures called “humans” reside, seen only through fleeting shots of children in brightly colored shirts running around a backyard and blurred images of people shopping in the marketplace.
All of this experience is translated for us in stunning high-definition cinematography, typical of the Disneynature brand. Overhead shots of densely packed treetops, frothing waterfalls, and vast blue skies provide contexts for images of monkeys lazing on the branches of trees, with frequent slow motion inviting viewers to scrutinize every detail. These vibrant images help to make the film’s themes clear, too: while Raja and the Sisters sit atop branches, high in the trees and gorging themselves on yellow flowers, Maya and other lowborns traverse into the waters below. Here they discover a whole new world. White blossoms replace yellow as the camera follows Maya underwater, collecting lily flowers and seed pods. She’s startled by the arrival of a seven-foot long monitor lizard, and the image turns murky and hurried, so we can share in Maya’s sense of panic.
Monkey Kingdom‘s imposition of a hackneyed storyline only distracts from such beautiful imagery. As the film turns into another cookie-cutter family film in which the underdog (or under-monkey) overcomes all odds, it’s easy to lose track of the incredible documentary footage.