Directed by James Marsh 12A cert, limited release, 93 min
A queasy social engineering experiment is the subject of this enthralling documentary, writes DONALD CLARKE
JAMES MARSH'S last film, the transcendent Man on Wire,worried away at an incident from the 1970s – a wire-walk between New York's Twin Towers – which registered only faintly with all but the most well-informed viewers. Our readers from the anthropology community may disagree, but the director's excellent follow-up does appear to do something very similar.
Project Niminvestigates an influential (not to say notorious) experiment carried out by academics during the US's troubled post-1960s hangover. In 1974 Dr Herbert Terrace, a lecturer at Columbia University, placed a chimpanzee named Nim in the care of a human family. Over the following years, as the unfortunate animal was shifted from a Manhattan townhouse to a rural retreat and back to the harsh facility where he was born, Dr Terrace pondered his attempts to communicate with his young carers via sign language. Initially, he deduced that Nim had genuinely picked up language skills. Later he concluded that the primate was merely aping (ahem) the gestures of his human pals.
Marsh's moving film does, indeed, have much to say about the habits of the higher apes. Project Nim, which features discreet re-enactments and is enhanced by an evocative score from Dickon Hinchliffe, explains how easy it is to be fooled into sentimental delusions about the connections between chimpanzees and humans.
Nim emerges as something like a fully rounded character. He likes to cradle the pet cat, but eventually gets a little too fond of the poor beast. He learns to say sorry when he has behaved poorly. But, as he grows up and gives in to occasional violent urges, his handlers are cruelly reminded of his status as a wild animal.
The film is at least as gripping in its investigations of the way a certain class of human (Jungian chatter, high forehead, Ivy League education) behaved at a certain point in time (stoner rock, herbal cigarettes, queasy free love). Just five years later, it would have been astonishing to see a carer – as one genuinely kindly fellow does – encourage a chimpanzee to smoke a joint. Today one might argue about the rights and wrongs of breastfeeding an ape, but even those in favour would be unlikely to discuss such an act with the nonchalance exhibited here by Stephanie LaFarge, Nim’s first human “mother”.
As each subsequent carer delivers his or her last talking head, Marsh cleverly employs a wipe to indicate how the unfortunate custodian was eliminated from Nim’s life. Some appear a little naive. All seem to have been genuinely fond of the subject.
Meanwhile, Dr Terrace, his hair combed over in the Bobby Charlton style, keeps popping up to confirm one’s initial uneasy impression. Admitting to sleeping with at least one of his helpers, the doctor does himself no favours with his arrogant, inflexible delivery.
One thinks of the purportedly left-wing – but actually sexually reactionary – academic in Malcolm Bradbury's satirical novel The History Man. One thinks of even less lovely mad professors in science fiction novels. There is much to ponder here.
One minor gripe. Why does Marsh not explain the origins of Nim’s full name? He was called Nim Chimpsky in ironic tribute to the great Noam Chomsky. The esteemed linguist does have a sense of humour. Doesn’t he?
