Description
Poor-Me-Ones are a family of birds that, unlike diurnal creatures, remain idle during the day and rise at night in search of food and prey. They are also known as night wanderers, with toad-like mouths, disproportionately large eyes, and sorrowful calls—both a lure and a trap for their fragile prey. Perhaps this is why they are called Poor-Me-Ones, bearing an air of misfortune and helplessness, feigning need to ensnare through empathy. Mostly found in the humid rainforests of the Amazon, South America, and the Caribbean coasts, these indolent Oblomovs barely stir. Yet, reports suggest that long ago, a group of them embarked on a journey to distant lands. Small-bodied and upright, their heads are disproportionately large, their wings and tails long. Their delicate frames are eclipsed by broad, short bills and wide eyes. In The Handbook of the Birds of the World, Cohn-Haft describes them as “little more than a flying mouth and eyes.” Their weak legs serve no purpose but to perch, high above on branches and poles.
How much nocturnal birds resemble intellectuals. Chris Marker unveils this likeness in The Owl’s Legacy, where he reflects on the wakefulness of artists and thinkers—the owl’s wide eyes piercing through darkness, hunting in the night, just as the insightful artist or intellectual seeks truth in the twilight of reality. The night birds’ call resounds more clearly in the deceptive silence of the night. We gather to watch some films that are nocturnal, twilight-bound, and oasis-seeking—creative nonfiction films delicately intertwined with the night, whether in image or language. The night of nature, the night of politics, the night of truth. In Jun’ichirō Tanizaki’s words, we step into the realm of shadows, to meet great nocturnal figures of cinema—Eric Pauwels, Arnaud des Pallières, Jay Rosenblatt, Peter Krüger, and others. nighthawks who remain hidden in the dense forest of cinema.
In another season of our ornithology, we shall visit the Nectariniidaes.