It’s happened to all of us. Parents or ecstatic relatives always find spontaneous opportunity to recall near encyclopedic litanies of baby moments. They can be cute, fretful or simply ridiculous, but at their best each reveals an inner wonder that seems to last only so long as baby talk. That said, it’s nice to be in on things once again.
French director Thomas Balmes – after past international films on eclectic topics ranging from suspect Indian burgers to up-and-coming sumo wrestlers – may well have found his surroundings in Babies ironically blasé. That he spent a grand total of two years quite literally in the playpen with this documentary, though, assures one he set out to find something in Mongolia, Namibia, San Francisco and Tokyo that transcended geography. It’s undeniably here in the infectiously infantile high jinks of candid stars Bayar, Hattie, Mari and Ponijao.
This shouldn’t suggest that the work is just a cinematic baby book tailored for ‘ooos’ and ‘awwws’ (though there’s plenty to go around). Babies’ cinematography alone is a beauteous compilation of living snippets, denoting a matured dive into humans’ first year(s). The title for one is prominently contrasted over a large crosswalk flooded with adult pedestrians. This superposition reminds audiences that however we may have developed since, everyone shares roots in our universal childhood.
Those sensitive to the camera’s invisible devices will also gain insight into culture and its influences on parenting. Culture here is especially transparent, hardly requiring explanation that Balmes thankfully does not offer. Hattie is first seen, for example, looking like a mechanical crossbreed. She’s hooked up to more hospital equipment than even some critical care patients – a strong depiction of health care saturation. Also seen is the Himba tribe’s customary use of hematite powder, its crimson hue vivid on skin and camera. Though different on the surface, both societal norms are fascinating, even inclusive for what they are. This film is as unexplained as it is intuitive. Crew, author and even parents' presence here is essentially nil, allowing for total immersion that continues even once the end credits start to roll.
The film progresses easily, giving in evolving content at a relaxed pace. Akin to life’s own processes, the babies are born, nap, then crawl and coo before growing into warily triumphant first steps. Though the little costars never meet in reality, Balmes sequences his shots – especially in the hind quarter of the film – to intertwine and play off of one another to great effect.
Knee-high subjects like this foursome lend themselves flawlessly to verite or naturalistic filmmaking because of their inherent naivety. Clearly not aware of Balmes or his intentions, each ‘acts’ out simply whatever comes – be it gurgles, acrobatics or tantrums. Each location’s unique environment is united by these feats of mini-humanity. And so is their parents’ love. Ponijao’s mother crops his hair with a blade as delicately as Hattie’s father rocks her to sleep. In short, sex and race know no boundaries when it comes to coddling newly born beloveds. Hattie’s reluctant day at baby yoga, however, is wittily more foreign in its Western eccentricity than Ponijao and Bayar’s comparatively humble dwellings.
Audiences will see and love these children ponder and play as only they can. This is because in so doing, they impart portions of their own sensation. Coincidentally enough, each family has furry companions – perfect figures for humorously developmental social interaction. Hattie’s admittedly adorable and awkward proximity to her cat mirrors the heartwarming and sometimes hair-raising contact Ponijao and Bayar have with their families’ resident livestock. These spurts of parental adrenaline are kept at a minimum, however, as things are kept as light and moving as the soundtrack.
As contemporary as the new generation Babies documents, music here is relevant to an unexpectedly large audience. An altogether cheery sound caters to older patrons, while the notably hip talent providing it (Coraline’s Bruno Coulais and indie staple Sufjan Stevens) will certainly attract youth audiences for a listen and maybe a laugh.
Even from a cynic’s point of view, there’s more to this film than one could expect sitting through baby-themed anything (let alone an hour and a half of it). What Babies shares is commonality – in humanity and even more so in life. The epitome of this unspoken message is Bayar’s impactful stance in a windy steppe. He gleefully faces the brunt, then signifying a shared victory for mankind. Here Balmes features one of us going beyond possibly any of his coming years.
Babies (2010) 
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