I marvel at the foresight and intuition of documentary filmmakers who begin a project without having any idea if they’ll ultimately emerge with a story worth telling.
Co-directors Trevor Frost and Melissa Lesh definitely found such a story.
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| Although attempting to teach his feline companion how to survive in the wild is exhaustive work that requires plenty of patience — and love — Harry also enjoys their more playful moments. |
The setting is so beautiful, so hypnotic, that it’s almost surreal. At first blush, it feels romantic: tugging at that little piece of ourselves that sometimes wishes to really, truly get away from it all.
But that’s deceptive.
Frost and Lesh begin their film with a brief prologue, as a man navigates a jungle setting with — amazingly — an attentive young ocelot that apparently regards him as a parent.
We then back up to earlier days, and the events that led to that moment.
Young British soldier Harry Turner returns home from a tour in Afghanistan, emotionally damaged by what he has seen — and done — and crippled by PTSD. Suicidal, believing himself a burden to his parents and younger brother, Harry flees civilization and heads to the most remote part of the world that he can reach: the Las Piedras region of the Peruvian Amazon rainforest.
He chances upon American biologist/conservationist Samantha “Sam” Zwicker, founder of a non-profit dubbed Hoja Nueva (“New Leaf”), which is dedicated to the rescue, rehabilitation and reintroduction of keystone Peruvian Amazon wildlife species.
It’s a necessary response to the heartbreaking reality of young animals orphaned and abandoned, after their parents have been slaughtered by hunters and logging operations.
This film begins with Zwicker’s earliest efforts, when it’s not even clear whether an infant ocelot can be re-wilded; nobody has tried before. Frost and Lesh understood the time frame, going in: reintroduction, if successful, would take roughly 17 months … the length of time a kitten would spend with its mother, until setting out on its own.
Which makes their film, at minimum, a 17-month investment of time and effort.
Harry’s arrival is cathartic; the challenge gives him a sense of purpose. He throws himself 24/7 into the care, guidance and protection of this adorably wild kitten.
I was reminded of 2019’s The Mustang, and the degree to which bonding with a wild horse, and then training it, rehabilitates a convict with a violent past.
Frost and Lesh obtain stunning footage of the two of them together. Abetted by Harry’s considerable nighttime footage, we get a tangible sense of being right there with them, in the jungle.
Moving forward, there’s a superficial resemblance to 2020’s My Octopus Teacher, but without that film’s insufferably pompous pontificating. Wildcat is far more spontaneous, far more unaffected, far more in the moment.
It becomes clear that Harry and Sam aren’t merely professional colleagues; they’re also lovers, bonded as intimately with each other, as they are with the ocelot kitten. The nature of their relationship is similarly enchanting; apparently heedless of the Amazon’s many hazards, they often work in the shorts and T-shirts, frequently walking barefooted, playfully swimming in a nearby river.
(We gasp and think, seriously?)
This casualness does not extend to Harry’s impressively patient work with the kitten; he’s acutely mindful of the dangerous environment that includes larger predators, poisonous insects and spiders, and nasty, concealed traps set by hunters.
Then, just as we’re getting into the rhythm of this fascinating process, Frost and Lesh hit us with an unexpected crisis. The raw agony of this setback, and its effect on Harry, is heartbreaking; he spirals downward. The timing also is unfortunate, because Sam has responsibilities back in the States, involving both her academic work and the need to maintain sponsorship funding for Hoja Nueva.
Fortunately, Harry rallies, and becomes even more focused and determined. Learning from earlier mistakes, when Sam returns they re-locate their facilities to a more remote location upriver, farther from human contact. (By this point, we realize Frost and Lesh essentially embedded themselves with the Hoja Nueva team; how else could they have obtained so much mesmerizing footage?)
The saga pauses for a welcome, lighthearted interlude with the arrival of Harry’s parents, Mark and Colette, and his younger brother Jayden. They are (it must be said) the gamest, bravest and most accommodating family on the planet; they plunge wholeheartedly into an environment and lifestyle that most of us would shun, ashen-faced.
It’s also obvious that much of Mark and Colette’s delight comes from recognizing that Harry has found a stable path, and calling.
Although this saga’s conclusion is preordained — Frost and Lesh wouldn’t dare do otherwise! — that doesn’t detract from the tension, delight and marvel of every step along the way.
Despite having collected numerous well-deserved festival and critics circle awards, Wildcat has not been short-listed for Oscar’s Documentary Feature Film category. That’s a shame, because Frost and Lesh’s film is just this side of perfect.
I don’t use that word very often.
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