Project NIM

Written at the time of the film's release.

"More Human Than Human"
or
"If We Could Talk to the Animals (Speaking to a Chimp in Chimpanzee)"

 
"It was the 70's...," says one of the interviewees in Project NIM, as if in explanation.

"It was the species," says I, looking for my tranquilizer gun.

The new film by Man on Wire

director James Marsh examines a scientific experiment by Columbia researchers to teach sign language to a chimpanzee. The chimp, NIM (son of Carolyn) Chimpsky* is taken from its mother almost at birth, to be raised by humans, and thereafter taught to communicate in a language that humans can understand (This immediately raises a red ethical flag—why not take the Goodall route and learn theirs, but if you're going to get all PETA on me, you might as well just picket the theater rather than watch it).

For just as Man on Wire is a study of hubris and the arrogance of man (which results in a marvelous, magical thing), Project NIM does the same thing, while showing just how lousy human beings are, even with the best (or most curious) of intentions. We meet a lot of talking heads in Project NIM and few can be considered the best examples of our species to teach another anything. In fact, Project NIM is more of a study of human behavior than it is anything to do with monkeys'.

The guy who devises the study is Dr. Herbert Terrace (after Project Washoe which was an earlier, more disciplined study and was more convincing of anecdotal evidence), and one wonders what his motivations are, besides the obvious personal ambitions of getting attention and using it as a means of attracting young interns.** The first person to raise NIM is Stephanie, a self-described "hippie-chick," and it's a mystery that Terrace picked her to be the initial teacher for NIM, as she had no desire to keep notes and records, did not know sign language, and eventually grew impatient with all the insistence on "process," preferring to just interact with NIM as a member of her family. Terrace makes some comment about her being a "warm" "empathetic" person and then drops the bomb that the two had had a previous "relationship," (which will prove to be a common—all-too common—theme throughout the documentary, as the humans seem more concerned with "hooking up" than concentrating on their charge—"it was the 70's, after all" says one laughing). Eventually another trainer is found for NIM, Laura-Ann, and it's readily apparent that there is no love lost between her and Stephanie, as some mutual passive-aggressive sniping occurs between the two. Laura-Ann is much more successful in teaching sign to NIM (Stephanie says on-camera "Words are a fucking nightmare to communication..." which makes one wonder about her qualifications even more) and the chimp's knowledge of ASL increases at a fast clip. Terrace and she also begin "a relationship," just as two other therapists begin working in the study. Also, at this point, Terrace steps out of the day-to-day monitoring, that is, unless a camera shows up for a photo op, or a news-story, and there are some amusing out-takes of Terrace trying to handle NIM, but being quite incapable of it. "Herb Terrace was an absentee landlord" grouses one of the researchers.

It becomes readily apparent in Marsh's timeline and necessary compression of the events that the humans were far more concerned with their own lives, and that, however much affection and wonder is expressed at NIM's progress, he is little more than an amusing lab-rat, albeit one you can talk to about food. And, as with "Frankenstein," pretty soon the subject of the study is considered less valuable, and, ultimately, disposable.

 
It cannot end well and it doesn't, even with the best of intentions, and the heroes of the story, if there can be any, come from the most unlikely of places.

What I find amazing is that Marsh, as he did with Man on Wire, can coax such naked honesty in a documentary that makes the researchers look like such creeps. Philippe Petit, the subject of Man on Wire came across as something of a jerk, but his accomplishment was so amazing one could forgive his idiosyncrasies and foibles. These men and women have no such stunts to hide behind, and although they may act like the end justifies the means, in the end, they simply abandoned a project and left the life they'd altered on its own, not quite chimp, not quite human. That ivory tower looks a little less spotless in the aftermath.   

Makes one wonder if this evolution "thing" is all it's cracked up to be, given the evidence.

Two of "the good guys"—Bob Ingersoll and Nim Chimpsky

* After Noam Chomsky. "Get it?"

** I seem to be coming down hard on Terrace ("That's DR. Terrace..." he says at one point in the film), but he comes across as smug, arrogant...and a tad clueless in Marsh's film (Don't these folks know how they're going to come off?).  Also, slightly retributive.  After his slap-dash study—heavy on the personal agenda—ends he writes a book about the study saying "Nah...chimps don't use language because they have no syntax"—merely parroting words they've been taught to get what they want, without proper sentence structure, or tense. True. It's the same way I communicate with my dog, Smokey. We pick up on each other's "cues" of behaviors and words we recognize and respond appropriately. For example, if I command my dog to go to the bathroom (he does this by suggestion) and he doesn't "have to go," he'll simply sit.  Which tells me "No, really, it's not necessary. How about a cookie, though?" NIM was doing this with his trainers and with other apes...and taught other apes basic ASL (shades of Planet of...), just as he communicated with ape-cues to other apes. The thing that struck me about NIM (which I remember from some of the docs made when the study was going on), was that he learned to curse.  If he got mad at something, he'd make the sign for "Dirty," which was related to his toilet training. Nobody taught him that "Shit!" was an expression of frustration. He came up with that on his own. Explain that.

Man on Wire

"Exercise Your Passion"

There is a moment in this superb documentary where the audience gasps in wonder. It is August 7th, 1974. Phillipe Petit, wire-walker extraordinaire, has just begun walking the tightwire that has been rigged between the two towers of the still-under-construction World Trade Center. He is 840 metres above the ground, and in his first initial nervous steps, he is "getting to know his path." To fall is certain death.

Then, suddenly, one of the men who helped pull off "Le Coup," as the conspirators called it, explains that Petit broke into a grin, and the next shot in the film is a picture of him smiling broadly, as if knowing a secret, and as the man himself says in the film, he was thinking "Now I can perform." He crossed the path eight times in 45 minutes, at points, lying down on the wire, kneeling on it, and finally, sitting and taking in the sight below him. As one of the policemen trying to coax him back said later, amazed, "I knew I was seeing something I would never see again."

Man On Wire* (directed by James Marsh) is such a wild film about obsession and craft that one can't help but admire the man and the feat that inspired it. Petit had begun a quest to wire-walk across various structures in the world; he'd already walked between the spires of Notre Dame cathedral and the Sydney Harbour Bridge in Australia, but had his sights set on the ultimate challenge--the still-being-built WTC in New York. Fortunately, the group surrounding Petit was filled with artists and creative types, who filmed his training and some of the plotting sessions to pull off "Le Coup." It's an extremely well-documented exercise, and any gaps--specifically stealing into and hiding out in the South Tower and setting up the wire apparatus on the roof--are recreated by actors.

The film is full of humor--Petit, now at 67, is still quite a showman--and the interviews with the participants are full of wry comments, while at the same time, quite emotional--when recalling "the walk," one of the riggers breaks down completely, overcome by the magnitude of the event and the aplomb with which it was accomplished.

One shakes one's head in wonder at the audacity and courage it took to pull it off (and Petit was scared and quite agitated before setting foot on the wire, but determined to fulfill his dream) and moved by the enjoyment of the experience Petit displayed that day. Thirty four years later, and the towers gone, the act still resonates through time and memory.

A "based on a true story" film of the event, The Walk, directed by Robert Zemeckis, is on limited release in IMAX and 3D. It will open "wide" to theaters on October 9th.

*The title comes from the terse explanantion of the crime on the police booking sheet.