THE STORY – An English professor develops an unlikely relationship with a penguin in 1976, a tumultuous period in Argentina’s history.
THE CAST – Steve Coogan, Jonathan Pryce, Björn Gustafsson, David Herrero, Vivian El Jaber & Aimar Miranda
THE TEAM – Peter Cattaneo (Director) & Jeff Pope (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 110 Minutes
The most surreal thing about the upcoming Peter Cattaneo (“The Full Monty”) film “The Penguin Lessons” is that it’s based on a true story. The movie tells the story of a British English Lit teacher who befriended a penguin during the early years of the Argentinian fascist dictatorship. Steve Coogan plays Tom Michell, who eventually names himself “The Penguin Man,” in a film that is perhaps the most Coogan film ever made: sarcastic, full of dry wit and humor, and tearjerking, while not overly ambitious. The movie has shades of “Philomena,” “Dead Poets Society,“ and “The Holdovers.“ It is thoroughly enjoyable and satisfying, and it brought down the house during its Roy Thompson Hall premiere at the 49th Toronto International Film Festival.
The year is 1976, and Tom arrives in Buenos Aires, having landed a prestigious teaching gig at the local, stuffy, pre-Hogwarts school for the sons of right-wing Argentinian upper-class oligarchs. But, a coup d’etat soon occurs, forcing Tom to flee temporarily to neighboring Uruguay. There, after a frolic on the beach, he finds an injured penguin, whom he decides to rescue. They later return to Argentina when some semblance of normality returns to the country.
However, Argentina is anything but normal. Inflation is rampant; on payday Friday, Tom’s employer warns him that his 2.5 million peso salary will have half its value come Monday. Tensions run high: brainwashed students bully others who don’t favor the regime, assaulting them and referring to them as “Socialist Pigs.“ Also, people are running scared or disappearing entirely; the mothers of the “Plaza de Mayo“ show up, referring to the thousands of people who eventually disappeared during the brutal dictatorship.
In the end, however, this is a Coogan and Cattaneo movie. It is a light-hearted comedy, and none of these difficult subject matters detract from that fundamental approach.
At the heart of the action is the flightless bird Tom unsubtly names “Juan Salvador“ (“John the Savior”). At its funniest and most touching, Jeff Pope’s humorous screenplay describes the animal as someone who is “short, cannot talk, smells quite bad, and shits all the time,“ but who is nevertheless the protagonist’s best friend. At its corniest, the script turns the penguin into everyone’s best friend: the cure for cynicism, an artist’s model, a shrink, a cheerleader at a sporting event, even a chemist. It’s exceedingly unsubtle and cliched, which is not to say that it is not incredibly effective because it is.
It all works, thanks to Coogan being so likable as Tom. In particular, the set pieces of him trying to hide the penguin from his boss, housekeeper, and students are laugh-out-loud funny. Also, who can resist a cynical teacher teaching lessons of idealism to idealistic students? Who can resist the weeping mothers of the disappeared smiling at a miraculous reappearance? Who can say no to cute animal tricks and antics, including potty-oriented ones? And who can avoid shedding a tear when the inevitable, shockingly predictable moment you are expecting finally arrives? At that moment, a stoic, suspiciously emigrated German teacher in the academy expressionlessly exclaims: “My eyes are moist with emotion.“ His line may as well encapsulate the entire movie; of course, your eyes are not merely “moist,“ they are gushing with tears and laughter, which is precisely the sarcastic point.
It all works because the penguin and the entire “The Penguin Lessons“ film become effective allegories. The penguin reflects Tom’s cynicism, which comes from old age and the tragic ghosts of his past. Moreover, the simple, simplistic little bobbing penguin reflects Coogan’s light-touched, surface-deep approach—his lack of interest in profound analysis, profound morality, or preachy stories. It is as if, through Juan Salvador, he is urgently telling us it’s better to laugh than to be too cynical.
Given all the fluffiness and the goddamn animal cuteness, your senses will be on a saccharine high, checking your sarcasm and doubts at the door. When the film’s bubbly characters determinedly proclaim platitudes like, “When bad people do bad things, I expect it — when good people do nothing, it makes me want to punch them,“ or when the little penguin, of course, makes the truant students finally pay attention and do their homework, none of the hackneyed ridiculosity of all this could bother you. With all the animal cuteness going on, how could it? What are you—a soulless monster? A film critic?
No, no, no. You will laugh and cry, too. Juan Salvador will charm you into submission, and you will forget – in his little affectation – what good writing and storytelling look like, much like Tom’s students do. You will smile, and you will laugh — sometimes uncontrollably — because that is just how effective “The Penguin Lessons“ ultimately is. It is not a literal masterpiece like the poems of Lord Byron that Tom teaches. Rather, a family-friendly tearjerker, like so many animal films with facile lessons, is all it is and aspires to be like so many before.
