Babies

An adorable insight into the world of tiny tots, Thomas Balmès’ Babies uses minimal production values to maximise the overwhelming moments of empathy and anxiety that are part and parcel of early life.

The simplistic premise – to chart the formative experiences of babies from across the globe – originated from producer Alain Chabat. Chabat’s screen credits include directing the French box office smash Asterix & Obelix: Mission Cleopatra, appearing as Napoleon in Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian, and voicing the French dub of the title character in Shrek. He may just have reached the pinnacle for popular fare with this idea.

From early glimpses of pregnant bellies, the film flashes forward several weeks to find the snug bundles acclimatising to their respective environments: a Himba tribe village in Opuwo, Namibia; a family farm in the lush green mountains of Mongolia; an urban apartment in Tokyo; and an eco-friendly lifestyle in San Francisco.

Balmès maintains a babies’ eye view of the world throughout, as the bubs (Ponijao, Bayer, Mari, and Hattie) come to grips with, well, everything they can get their hands on. Their parents enter the frame only when they bend or sit to fit within it; most of the time, they’re lopped-off supporting players to the drama unfolding at their feet.

Aside from one golden trickle emanating from the nether regions of Mongolian Bayer, Babies  steers clear of the usual ‘uh-oh’ moments like nappy malfunctions and/or projectile vomits that form the staple of Katherine Heigl films and Funniest Home Video format shows the world over. Rather, Balmès concentrates on the landmark moments of engagement and interaction between the four subjects and their surrounds.

An imposing cockerel and an approaching herd generate moments of unexpected drama, and there’s ironic amusement in the image of hippy Hattie fleeing the scene of a baby yoga group chant. Japanese Mari’s dexterity with expensive tech gadgets stimulates similar motor skills to Namibian Ponijao’s self-directed play in barren Opuwo; the juxtoposition helps Balmès to achieve his simple aim of presenting a ‘one-world’ observation of a landmark rite of passage: first breath to first step.

The locked-off camera’s stunning visuals and rich colours (in the Namibian and Mongolian sequences in particular) make Babies a must for big screen viewing. The soundtrack is devoid of any narration or indeed, dialogue (occasional exchanges between adults are incidental and inconsequential). That said, it’s easy to imagine the dulcet tones of Richard Attenborough contextualising key moments of the film, such as the tense and violent standoff between Ponjiao and her brother over possession of a plastic bottle. Ditto, Mari’s frustrated attempts to successfully manipulate a stacking toy, which set off a chain of events that only the words ‘controlled crying’ can defuse.

The too-cute prospect of newborns stumbling and fumbling their way through their formative year will resonate with younger viewers. To test the theory, this writer viewed the film with her two step-children (girls aged 10 and 6), and sure enough, the mini-critics were transfixed throughout the film’s 76 minutes, and responded to the universality of its themes. (Turns out, babies’ propensities to throw tantrums and embark on ‘curiosity crawls’ are the same the world over.)