Tag: movies

  • Trial and Error: Coyote vs. Acme (2026) and Animal Experimentation

    Trial and Error: Coyote vs. Acme (2026) and Animal Experimentation

    Like many filmgoers this year, I’ve been rooting for Coyote vs. Acme’s (2016) success. No metric-ton anvil has been necessary to weigh down the bar required for me to enjoy the prospect of Wile E. pitted against the mega-corporation Acme. As a fan of Looney Tunes, courtroom dramas, and live-action/animated hybrids, chances were good that, like its cartoon coyote’s designs on his favourite roadrunner, it was one worth catching. However, the real motivation encouraging so much interest in its box office release has been a healthy dose of spite directed at Warner Bros Discovery and its current CEO, David Zaslav.

    Following Discovery Inc.’s merger with WarnerMedia in 2022, Zaslav has buried several nearly completed productions, denying them a release so that they can instead be claimed as tax write-offs. While it’s not unusual for a major studio to abandon a project during pre-production or filming, it’s a concerning sign for both audiences and filmmakers if a virtually finished feature can be entirely scrapped simply because its owner gets cold feet concerning its returns. Making movies is hard enough already without the heart-breaking potential for a team’s efforts to be unceremoniously shelved. Both Scoob! Holiday Haunt and Batgirl were denied releases in 2022 following their parents’ merger. Four years later, neither has seen the light of day. It’s hard not to consider Coyote vs. Acme’s current theatrical release, after it was similarly cancelled in 2023, as something of a victory.

    Image: David Zaslav, photo by Thomas Hawk, 2017, Flickr.

    Warner Bros.’ decision to ditch Coyote vs. Acme was an attempt to write down $30 million against its $70 million production costs, despite the film reportedly testing well with both audiences and industry insiders (D’Allesandro, 2023). The notion that Zaslav would opt to scrap a project with obvious potential rather than capitalise upon its commercial appeal demonstrated a total disrespect for its teams’ creative talent and a baffling level of incompetence. Rubbing salt in the wound was the revelation that none of the executives responsible for the decision had seen the finished cut of the movie, with Zaslav never having watched it at all (Taylor, 2024).

    Following news of its abandonment, many members of Coyote vs. Acme’s production team took to social media to discuss the labours that had now been squandered. Dave Green, the film’s director, would mount a “funeral screening” on the Warners Bros.’ lot (Couch & Hibberd, 2023) and state that “I am beyond proud of the final product, and beyond devastated by WB’s decision. But in the spirit of Wile E. Coyote, resilience and persistence win the day” (@dgrenmachine, 2023).

    Image: @Discussing Film. ‘A fan dressed as Wile E. Coyote protesting today…’ X, March 11, 2025.

    After hearing of the farce surrounding its release, other industry figures rallied around Coyote vs. Acme’s cast and crew. Fellow director Scott Derrickson would announce that “I think it’s absolute bullshit that a studio can and does shelve the creative work of hundreds of people for a fucking tax break” (@scottderrickson, 2023), while screenwriter Peter Briggs bemoaned that “David Zaslav has turned a functioning movie studio into a mechanism to pay him an obscene amount of money annually, while not actually releasing movies” (@ThePeterBriggs, 2023).

    The irony of Coyote vs. Acme’s abandonment, considering its narrative focus on a David vs. Goliath battle of corporate greed and indifference, was not lost on the public either. One fan, Marco Vaccaro, would dress up as Wile E. himself and picket the entrance of the Warner Bros.’ lot. Eric Bauza, voice of Bugs Bunny and others in the film, would adopt the character of Daffy Duck when making a plea for the film’s case from the podium of the 2024 Annie Awards and help the hashtag #ReleaseCoyoteVsACME to go viral.

    Image: The Day the Earth Blew Up, Ketchup Entertainment, 2024.

    Responding to backlash, Warner Bros. eventually allowed Green to shop his film around to other potential buyers, leaving the director scrambling to create his own PR campaign in the hopes of salvaging the project. After rebuffing a variety of offers from rival media juggernauts, Warner Bros. would sell the feature to indie studio Ketchup Entertainment, who had previously distributed their similarly Looney-Tunes orientated The Day the Earth Blew Up (2024), for an estimated $50 million (Wiseman, 2025).

    Supported by a meagre $10 million in additional marketing costs, the current success of Coyote vs. Acme in theatres owes much to strong word of mouth and, importantly, the tantalising prospect of seeing Warner Bros. with egg on their face. Ketchup would introduce the film’s teaser with Wile E. Coyote plummeting from a cliff with a sign stating ‘Happy Tax Day’ and ‘check your write offs.’ Their official trailer would similarly feature text describing itself as ‘the movie Acme doesn’t want you to see’ while accompanying the Warner Bros.’ logo with the byline ‘a wholly owned subsidiary of the Acme Corporation.’

    Image: ‘Coyote vs. Acme – Happy Tax Day,’ Ketchup Entertainment, 2026, YouTube.

    Coyote vs. Acme’s respectable performance has proven a rebuttal to Warner Bros. and Zaslav’s indifference worthy of savouring. Recent figures estimate that the film has now taken in $57.3 million worldwide, with an opening weekend second only to Spider-Man Brand New Day (2026), handily outpacing Ridley Scott’s flop The Dog Stars (2026) (Lang, 2026). Even if Ketchup are unable to net a sizeable profit from the film, its reception has, like its silent protagonist’s own battle against a corporate behemoth, provided the film with a notable last laugh.

    It’s no surprise that Wile E.’s decision to take Acme to court for a litany of physical calamities and indignities should strike such a chord with modern audiences. Who among us doesn’t wish to step out of the shadows cast by such monopolising corporations? Recast as Erin Brockovich in a fur coat, Wile E. recruits Kevin Avery, a shoestring lawyer played by Will Forte, to help him hold Acme accountable. Together, they face off against the unscrupulous Buddy Crane, John Cena, the hotshot attorney that Acme has assigned to the case. With the stakes set, the film does a commendable job providing a suitably loony spin on various well-established story beats. Bugs Bunny pops up as a whistleblowing informant, Acme’s Head of PR, the Tasmanian Devil, proves characteristically incomprehensible when cross-examined on the stand, while Foghorn Leghorn’s Southern drawl is set to appropriate work as Acme’s ruthless CEO. What’s not to love?

    Image: Coyote vs. Acme, Ketchup Entertainment, 2026.

    The film itself was developed from a satirical 1990 New Yorker article by humourist Ian Frazier. Frazier would consider the merits of a hypothetical claim by Wile E. against Acme based on product liability and inadequate safety guidance. However, the coyote’s plight in the film is not only framed around Acme’s lack of consumer standards, but eventually snowballs into a sinister conspiracy concerning equality-based jurisprudence. Or rather, the disparity of rights between cartoon animals and those of humans.

    The film’s second and third acts reveal that the failures of Acme’s products are part of Project Sisyphus, an initiative designed to maliciously inflict injuries upon cartoons. This data is then collected and used by the company for the purpose of improving human-facing products and services. By depicting Acme’s culpability as deliberate, therefore, the film offers surprisingly direct parallels between Wile E.’s case and the experiences of his very real animal counterparts that are experimented on in our own world.

    Image: ‘Coyote V. Acme,’ Illustration by Luci Gutiérrez, The New Yorker, 1990.

    Visually, Acme’s data is represented as the rich catalogue of cartoons produced for Warner Bros. by the likes of Tex Avery and Chuck Jones. The film opens with a wall of monitors displaying their violent antics, reframed as experiments caused by the company’s numerous defective products. When Bugs Bunny’s intervention leads Forte’s attorney to Daffy Duck, the manic fowl is shown to have been driven even more insane than is characteristically normal, and committed to ‘St. Looneys’ Asylum.’

    Defending his company’s unscrupulous endeavours, Foghorn Leghorn draws right from the playbook of A Few Good Men (1992) by stating “you think progress isn’t worth a little pain? A little discomfort? It is, son. It always has been.” While Coyote vs. Acme is certainly no My Cousin Vinny (1992), Foghorn’s attempt to outweigh the harm inflicted by Acme’s products against their utilitarian benefit is readily comparable to real-world legalese.

    Image: Coyote vs. Acme, Ketchup Entertainment, 2026.

    In the UK, it is the Home Office’s ‘harm-benefit analysis process’ that assesses whether or not animals can be licensed for use in scientific experiments. Inspectors working within the Animals in Science Regulation Unit have the role of considering “whether the likely harms to animals can be justified by the likely benefits” (Home Office, 2015). As with Foghorn’s defence, certain harms have legal definitions which allow them to be legally inflicted.

    Various classifications must be checked, including the distressingly titled ‘severity limit,’ which researchers use to outline “the highest level of pain, suffering, distress or lasting harm that may be experienced by any animal undergoing an authorised procedure” (Home Office 2026a). Importantly, ‘severe’ is the highest definable category of harm that might be inflicted, with no restriction on such limits if the supposed benefits are considered adequate. The legal requirement is that such experiences must not be sustained. If the animal experiences “severe pain, suffering or distress that is likely to be long-lasting,” then it must be ameliorated; if this is no longer possible, the animal must be ‘humanely’ killed (ibid.).

    Image: Mouse, Yu-Chan Chen, 2015, Flickr.

    Last year alone, 2.54 million scientific procedures were conducted on animals in the UK, with the top three research areas reported as the nervous system, the immune system, and cancer (Home Office, 2026b). Almost half of these procedures involved the creation and breeding of animals “whose genes have mutated or have been modified” for the purposes of such research (ibid.). The UK Government records that 99% of the total procedures were assessed as “non-recovery, sub-threshold, mild, or moderate in severity” (ibid.). Even if we were to generously assume that the majority of these animals survived, these statistics infer that 25,400 procedures were conducted on animals that led to ‘severe’ levels of suffering and harm (ibid.).

    In the UK, there are currently 131 institutions licensed to conduct animal research, ranging from universities to biomedical research institutes, pharmaceutical companies, and contract research laboratories (Home Office, 2026b). Interestingly, the UK Government highlighted this year that it has not had reason to refuse a single licence on the grounds of unacceptable levels of harm since 2021, although Lord Hanson of Flint, Labour Peer, noted that “the number of formal refusals is not, however, a meaningful indicator of regulatory rigour” (UK Parliament, 2026).

    Image: Beagle, PIX1861, Pixabay, 2015.

    The experimentations conducted upon the toons in Coyote vs. Acme are, of course, played for laughs. Daffy Duck’s combustion and balding are as funny now as it was half a century ago. However, the real-world equivalents are significantly less comical. The image below, for example, is of a mouse implanted with an osteosarcoma tumour. In this instance, the procedure was conducted to aid measurements of radiotherapy efficiency.

    The stakes for such research could not be higher. While this radiotherapy study was conducted within the GSI Helmholtz Centre for Heavy Ion Research in Germany, those undertaken by British institutions like the Francis Crick Institute, the Medical Research Council, and Imperial College London are of equal importance. Even including such imagery in an article concerned with the cultural relevance of a Looney Tunes movie seems almost as brazenly farcical as Bugs Bunny himself. Yet, it would be even more heinously inappropriate to overlook the price that is paid by animals when we subordinate their welfare for our species’ benefit.

    Image: Daria Boscolo et al. 2025. ‘Image-guided Treatment of Mouse Tumours with Radioactive Ion Beams,’ Nature Physics 21. CC BY 4.0.

    While images such as these are remarkably distressing, a quick review of briefs and videos by contemporary organisations that conduct animal research demonstrates an eagerness to reassure the public that the majority of their creatures are not placed in harmful situations. The terminology most frequently used is that of the ‘three Rs,’ being an attempt to ‘replace’ animal testing wherever possible, ‘reduce’ the minimum number of animals necessary, and ‘refine’ processes so that pain, suffering, and distress can be minimised.

    The University of Glasgow’s animal research strategy states, for example, that, such procedures are only used “when there is no other suitable alternative available,” noting that, out of 96,038 procedures in 2025, 0.9% resulted in ‘severe’ harm to the animals in question (2026). Like the national statistics cited earlier, however, these figures determine that, over that single year, 864 procedures were inflicted upon animals that caused, in the University of Glasgow’s own language, “short-term severe pain, suffering or distress, or long-lasting moderate pain, suffering or distress” (ibid.).

    Image: ‘Restrained Macaque,’ Kathleen Conlee, 2025.

    While animal experimentation remains common in the UK, growing research evidences a steady shift in consensus towards the need to emphasise non-animal related alternatives. In 2019, Emily Sena and Gillian Currie published ‘How Our Approaches to Assessing Benefits and Harms Can Be Improved,’ arguing for a rehauling of the practice’s regulation. Notably, they claimed that current definitions of potential ‘harms’ and ‘benefits’ rely on “generally subjective” assessments, and point towards a lack of rigour when determining whether the latter will ever actually materialise (2019: 107).

    Just last month, Cancer Research UK published recommendations that the biomedical sector make further steps to replace animal-based approaches, claiming that “90% of drug candidates fail in clinical trials without ever reaching patients” (2026). They point towards ground-breaking research led by the Human Cancer Model Initiative (HCMI) that “allows researchers not only to reduce animal use but also to improve the quality and translational value of preclinical research” (ibid.).

    Still, in many instances, changes in research methods are not being made quickly enough. Last year, the UK’s National Centre for the Replacement, Refinement and Reduction of Animals in Research claimed that, while animal-derived products such as foetal bovine serum caused “significant suffering for the animals involved,” they still remained in use despite the availability of non-animal alternatives “with significant scientific and ethical advantages” (National Centre for the Replacement, Refinement and Reduction of Animals in Research, 2026: 3).

    Image: ‘SOP for Handing and Restraining of Laboratory Animals,’ Research SOP, 2021.

    Thankfully, the testing of animals for the use of cosmetic and household products was banned in the UK in 1998. There is, however, no such federal law present in America and a proper examination of the cruelty inflicted on animals in the name of testing and experimentation lies tragically outside the scope of this single article. When conducting my own research, I was particularly distressed by the appallingly flippant slogan that the American company PLAS-LAB uses to advertise acrylic rabbit restrainers similar to those pictured above. With a level of callousness worthy of the Acme Corporation itself, they boast that “The only thing that wiggles is the nose!” (PLAS-LAB, n.d.).

    Foghorn Leghorn’s legal testimony in Coyote vs. Acme seems cartoonishly arch, but his words are a painful reminder of the lived realities of millions of animals currently being experimented upon around the world. “Yes, yes, our cartoon products sometimes do explode, sometimes they do backfire, sometimes they push the boundaries of gravity and science,” he says, “but do you all want to live in a world without new? Without progress?” The question of the ethical price we pay for such research is easily answered when out of view, but reflective of an issue that demands further regulation and constant reflection.

    Image: Coyote vs. Acme, Ketchup Entertainment, 2026.

    It’s notable that neither Warner Bros.’ nor Zaslav is likely to have had their feathers more than ruffled by Coyote vs. Acme’s vindicated release. It’s appropriate that, in the film itself, Wile E. and Avery are unable to claim victory in court, instead seizing the opportunity to embarrass the company in a public forum, with an epilogue indicating that their Sisyphean struggle will continue.

    Likewise, we live in a world where organisational structures consistently attempt to excuse their harms in the name of capitalistic and anthropocentric benefits. The creatures around us may possess a few limited protections but their voices are notably silent within our legal systems. There will always be those willing to exploit peoples, communities, and species that do not have equal representation. We should, like a certain intrepid coyote, demand that they are held accountable. 

    Head Image: Coyote vs. Acme, Ketchup Entertainment, 2026.

    Cancer Research UK. 2026. ‘The Importance of Patients – the Decade Long Effort to Create Next-Gen Cancer Models,’ Cancer Research UK, August 11: https://news.cancerresearchuk.org/2026/08/11/the-importance-of-patients-the-decade-long-effort-to-create-next-gen-cancer-models/.

    Couch, Aaron & Hibberd, James. 2023. ‘Warner Bros. Reverses Course on Coyote vs. Acme After Filmmakers Rebel,’ The Hollywood Reporter, November 13: https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/coyote-vs-acme-wb-warners-canceled-reversal-shop-film-1235645372/.

    Coyote vs. Acme. 2024. d. Dave Green, Film: Ketchup Entertainment.

    D’Alessandro, Anthony. 2023. ‘Coyote Vs. Acme: Warner Bros Shelves Finished Live-Action/Animated Pic Completely as Studio Takes $30M Tax Write-off,’ Deadline, November 9: https://deadline.com/2023/11/coyote-vs-acme-shelved-warner-bros-discovery-writeoff-david-zaslav-1235598676/.

    The Day the Earth Blew Up. 2024. d. Pete Browngardt, Film: Ketchup Entertainment.

    @dgreenmachine. 2023. ‘For three years, I was lucky enough…’ X, November 9, 9:21 p.m.

    The Dog Stars. 2026. d. Ridley Scott, Film:  20th Century Studios.

    A Few Good Men. 1992. d. Rob Reiner, Film: Columbia Pictures.

    Frazier, Ian. 1990. ‘Coyote V. Acme,’ The New Yorker, February 19: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1990/02/26/coyote-v-acme.

    Home Office. 2015. The Harm–Benefit Analysis Process: New Project Licence Applications. London: Home Office,

    Home Office. 2026a. The Operation of the Animals (Scientific Procedures) Act 1986 (ASPA). London: Home Office.

    Home Office. 2026b. Annual Statistics of Scientific Procedures on Living Animals, Great Britain. London: Home Office.

    Lang, Jamie. 2026. ‘Coyote Vs. Acme Climbs to Third at Global Box Office; Cars, Akira Re-Releases Score Domestically,’ Cartoon Brew, September 7: https://www.cartoonbrew.com/box-office-report/coyote-vs-acme-cars-akira-paw-patrol-chiikawa-266303.html.

    My Cousin Vinny. 1992. d. Jonathan Lynn, Film: 20th Century Fox.  

    National Centre for the Replacement, Refinement and Reduction of Animals in Research. 2026. Accelerating the Use of Non-Animal Reagents for In Vitro Research: Impact Report 2026. London: NC3Rs.

    @ThePeterBriggs. 2023. ‘David Zaslav has turned a functioning movie studio…’ X, November 9, 10:03 p.m.

    PLAS-LABS. n.d. ‘Rabbit Restrainers,’ Plas-Labs: https://plas-labs.com/products/animal-care-research/rabbit-restrainers.

    @scottderrickson. 2023. ‘I think it’s absolute bullshit that a studio…’ X, November 10, 4:52 p.m.

    Sena, Emily S. & Currie, Gillian L. 2019. ‘How Our Approaches to Assessing Benefits and Harms Can Be Improved,’ Animal Welfare 28: 107-115.

    Spider-Man Brand New Day. 2026. d. Destin Daniel Cretton, Film: Sony Pictures.

    Taylor, Drew. 2024. ‘The Final Days of Coyote vs. Acme: Offers, Rejections and a Roadrunner Race Against Time | Exclusive,’ The Wrap, February 9: https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/final-days-coyote-vs-acme-140000578.html.

    UK Parliament. 2026. ‘Animals (Scientific Procedures) Act 1986: Project Licence Applications’, UK Parliament, July 8: https://questions-statements.parliament.uk/written-questions/detail/2026-07-08/hl1807.

    University of Glasgow. 2026. ‘Openness in Animal Research,’ University of Glasgow: https://www.gla.ac.uk/research/strategy/ourpolicies/animalresearch/.

    Wiseman, Andreas. 2025. ‘Warner Bros Completes Worldwide Sale Of Coyote Vs. Acme,’ Deadline, March 31: https://deadline.com/2025/03/coyote-vs-acme-warner-bros-sale-complete-ketchup-1236354552/.

  • Donkey Welfare: Disposability & Dignity in Au hasard Balthazar (1966)

    Donkey Welfare: Disposability & Dignity in Au hasard Balthazar (1966)

    Chimps get to be cheeky, owls wise, and foxes crafty. Yet, if there is any emotional state that we most commonly impose upon the donkey, it’s sadness. Across both past and contemporary culture, our species frequently encumbers the animals with a melancholy attitude, burdened with the brunt of a cruel and unfair world. Whether immortalised through Benjamin, the most cynical member of the anthropomorphic cast of George Orwell’s Animal Farm (1945), or Eeyore, the perpetually morose inhabitant of A. A. Milne’s Hundred Acre Wood (Winnie-the-Pooh, 1926), centuries of forced servitude have relegated the woebegone donkey with little hope of contentedness in humanity’s regard.

    What on earth did the animals do to deserve being lumbered with our collective impression of existential despair? Such sorrow hardly seems commensurate to the enormous debt of gratitude we owe them. Zooarchaeologists point to donkeys playing a key role in the development of many of our most ancient herding societies when they were first domesticated around 6,000 years ago. “Donkeys are tough desert-adapted animals,” write Stine Rossel et al., “their ability to carry heavy loads through arid lands enabled pastoralists to move farther and more frequently and to transport their households” (2008: 3715).

    Image: Wall Painting, Tomb of Iti & Neferu, C. 2100 BC, Museo Egizio, Wikimedia Commons.

    Nevertheless, the reward for donkeys’ labours is usually either commiseration or complete intellectual disregard. When not defined by their toil and exertion, the donkey’s identity is used as a figurative stand-in for idiocy and foolishness. Few of us want to be called a jackass, after all. Whether through the English donkey, the French âne, Italian asino or Spanish burro, to be compared to the animal means being accused of obstinate mindlessness and slow-wittedness. What worse fate could there be for Pinocchio but to be turned into one? “It is written in the decrees of wisdom that all boys who are lazy, and who take a dislike to books, to schools, and to masters, and who pass their time in amusement, games, and diversions, must end sooner or later by becoming transformed into so many little donkeys,” says a passing marmot, when diagnosing the puppet with “donkey fever” (Collodi, 1883 [1917]: 162).

    These cognate meanings have all filtered and splintered through centuries of donkeys’ representations as pitiable beasts of burden. Unlike numerous other species, our myths and religions rarely imagine the animals as zoomorphic deities. Instead, they are most often entrusted with the duties of carrying or accompanying those of a higher exulted or sacred status. It is donkeys we turn to when we need a creature to act as the companions to our Gods, kings, and saints, bearing the likes of Jesus to Jerusalem or accompanying Dionysus’ revelrous processions.

    Image: ‘Entry into Jerusalem,’ Giotto di Bondone, 1304-06, Cappella Scrovegni, Web Gallery of Art.

    Most interestingly, this subordination often allows donkeys to play the archetype of the ‘wise fool,’ understanding and delivering wisdom that is imperceptible to their apparent masters. Fans of Eddie Murphy’s portrayal of Donkey in Shrek (2001) might be surprised to discover that a talking ass also appears in the Hebrew Bible’s Book of Numbers. When the diviner Balaam beats his donkey for halting unexpectedly, he is shocked to discover that it is because it has seen an angel that remains invisible to him, and all the more startled when it is granted the power of speech and turns back to him, asking “what have I done to you, that you have struck me?” (22:28).

    Whether represented as doltish beasts or oppressed chattel, donkeys’ cultural meanings are all positioned respectively of their masters’ authority and/or cruelty. I was delighted, recently, to discover that the University of Exeter recently launched a course in collaboration with Devon’s The Donkey Sanctuary titled ‘Scrublands, Sanctuary, Screens: Co-Creating Knowledges alongside Donkeys.’ Deputy CEO of the Sanctuary and anthrozoologist Faith Burden would explain that “by observing and spending time with the donkeys here in Sidmouth, these students will have the chance to develop a lifelong appreciation of what sensitive and intelligent animals they really are, and the impact their work can have on them” (qtd. in Merrington 2025).

    Image: Au hasard Balthazar, Cinema Ventures, 1966.

    For any student of film attempting to understand the weight of cultural representations borne by donkeys, Robert Bresson’s 1966 feature Au hasard Balthazar (1966) is surely a landmark production. Not only is its identity entirely constructed around the animals’ mythic significance, but it explores these issues while cementing itself as one of the most celebrated films ever made. Bresson was already an established filmmaker by the time that fellow countrymen François Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard, Claude Chabrol, and Éric Rohmer began tearing up the movie-making rule book as part of the French New Wave in the late 1950s. As such, Au hasard Balthazar acts as an exemplar of the director’s idiosyncratic aesthetic, tragically rendering the life of a put-upon donkey as its ownership is passed between members of a small Pyrenean community,

    From relentless draught work and circus performances, to his final labours spent carrying smuggled goods, none of the tasks endured by the donkey are spent in his own self-interest. Balthazar’s experiences position him as an observer to a world ordered by human mercilessness. Almost everyone that the donkey encounters is either keen to exploit him or powerless to protect him. From agricultural exertion, to entertainment, and criminal utility, Balthazar’s identity is valued solely as a commodity to be mistreated and degraded by those who attempt to profit from him.

    Image: Au hasard Balthazar, Cinema Ventures, 1966.

    In an oft-cited endorsement of the film, Jean-Luc Godard would claim that Bresson’s ability to microcosmically compact all of existence into the contemplative look of his non-human protagonist meant that “in an hour and a half[…] we see the entire world from childhood to death” (qtd. in ‘Un metteur en ordre: Robert Bresson,’ 2005). Bresson himself would state that one of his key aims was to depict “the passage of this donkey, who passes through different human groups representing the vices of humanity” (qtd. Godard & Delahaye, 1967: 11).

    Part of this style ensures that Au hasard Balthazar’s narrative privileges ellipses over procedural cause and effect. Rather than track the precise mechanics of the donkey’s comings and goings, audiences are invited to explore the cumulative acts of human cruelty and apathy that make up his experiences. Many of the film’s most powerful scenes rely on the juxtaposition of close ups of Balthazar’s expressive features with those of the human-managed world that surrounds him. Sharon Cameron describes the donkey as an “experiencing presence,” writing that his eye “is passive, beautiful, seemingly omnipresent in its witnessing of events, an eye that could be profound, but is in fact unfathomable” (2011: 6-7). In one particularly notable scene, Balthazar is restrained and forced to work in the afore-mentioned circus, his eyes meeting those of various animals that are similarly restrained in cages. Bresson doesn’t need human narration, Balthazar’s silent observations speak volumes.

    Image: Au hasard Balthazar, Cinema Ventures, 1966.

    Other cinematic tools serve similar purpose. The film’s final scene features one of the most emotionally devastating cuts I have observed in some time. When Balthazar, overcome by a gunshot wound, collapses, the moment of his demise is hauntingly concealed by Bresson’s edit. A shot of the donkey lying in the grass, bleeding and lolling, cuts to the flock of sheep that have gathered around him, before slowly panning over to his now prostate form, the last reserves of his stamina depleted. The continuity between the images is maintained by the lamentory sound of Schubert’s Piano Sonata no. 20 and the gentle chiming of the sheep’s bells as they bustle around his lifeless body.

    Filmmakers are often warned against working with either animals or children, but in his zoological cast, Bresson seems to have found the perfect subjects to match his own distinctive attitudes to performance. To achieve his films’ startlingly direct sense of emotional realism the director famously preferred to work with non-professionals. “No actors. (No directing of actors),” he would write, “No parts. (No learning of parts)” (1977: 1). Instead, he would relate to his cast as “BEING (models) instead of SEEMING (actors)” (ibid.). Bresson’s aim was to illicit intuitive and spontaneous responses from his performers, and, while the animals themselves are manoeuvred in completely fabricated situations, his emphasis on their gaze acts as a window into their completely unfiltered perspectives of the world.

    Image: Au hasard Balthazar, Cinema Ventures, 1966.

    As a witness to human sin who is mocked, beaten, and eventually slain, Balthazar’s life takes the form of an animalian passion play. Balthazar’s biblical name and martyred death, situated on his own pastoral Golgotha, consecrated by the flock’s bells, reminds us why Bresson is often referred to as the ‘patron saint of cinema.’ Such sacramental themes can be traced through many of the director’s productions, developed from his Catholic upbringing and later interest in Jansenist predestination. As André Bazin would memorably opine, Bresson’s work “offers us a new dramatic form, that is specifically religious – or better still, specifically theological; a phenomenology of salvation and grace” (1967: 136).

    However, Bresson’s work defies simple allergisation. Beyond its theological leanings, Balthazar’s guileless innocence can similarly be traced through the modern influences of Prince Myshkin’s tragic arc in Fyodor Dostoevsjky’s The Idiot (1869) and latter characterisation such as Peter Sellers’ extraordinary performance in Hal Ashby’s Being There (1979). Dostoevsky’s work seems to have proved a particularly profound impact upon Bresson. When Myshkin is overcome by intense melancholy, for example, it is the uninhibited braying of a donkey that rouses him, initiating something of an obsession with the animal. “I saw the donkey and was extremely pleased with it,” he would narrate, “and from that moment my head seemed to clear” (Dostoevsjky, 1869 [2025]: 36).

    Image: Au hasard Balthazar, Cinema Ventures, 1966.

    In The Idiot, the donkey’s vocalisation acts as a clarion call of animalistic existence, an eruption of non-human perspective in a decidedly human world. Similarly, in Bresson’s film, Balthazar’s cry carries through several key moments in his life, inarticulate and indecipherable for his human audience, but consequential nevertheless. Writing on the subject, Rochelle Rives argues that the unintelligibility of Balthazar’s bray compliments Bresson’s emphasis on his similarly bewildering gaze and, in doing so, “explores the question of human lack and anxiety, but from a perspective of in which the physicality of the animal challenges anthropomorphic values of ‘expression’ or ‘voice’” (2016: 346).

    It is something of a tradition of humanity to dismiss forms of communication that do not meet us on our own terms. Defining such an issue as the “language myth,” Sinéad Kwok argues that humans have a nasty habit of refusing to acknowledge animal sentience if the creatures are unable to match our own form of verbal communication (2020: 62). “These conceptions provide sources for the stable, categorical definitions manifested through speech,” she writes, “including definitions of the human and nonhuman kind (thus the world human would stand for a stable category, so would the word animal)” (ibid.). Somewhat counterintuitively, therefore, we categorise our own form of intelligence as superior based upon our ignorance of vocalisations that we can not make sense of.

    Like Balthazar, Dostoevsky’s Myshkin has his own intellectual dignity undermined by his inability to conform to social codes that privilege words over gesture. Although Bresson would maintain that Au hasard Balthazar was not a direct reworking of The Idiot’s own donkey, he would claim that the comparisons between human and animal in Dostoevsjky’s text were “magnificent”: “that idea of having the idiot say, when he sees the donkey and hears him bray: There! I understood!… that is extraordinary: that is genius” (qtd. Godard & Delahaye, 1967: 25).

    Image: Au hasard Balthazar, Cinema Ventures, 1966.

    Significantly, Bresson and Dostoevsky’s work also shares a character named Marie, both of whom are exploited by predatory suitors and left emotionally, materially, and socially ruined. In Au hasard Balthazar, Anne Wiazemsky’s Marie is one of the donkey’s sole sources of tenderness. Their time together offers brief respites in dramatic trajectories that descend in parallelling spirals towards tragedy. Close ups of Marie’s hands caressing Balthazar’s fur allow Bresson to foreground the intimacy of their relationship, while those where the girl coronates him by weaving a crown of flowers into his bridle honours him with a degree of dignity and adoration that he will not receive elsewhere.

    Predictably, Gérard, the young delinquent whose malice and selfishness leads to both their misfortunes, cannot comprehend the closeness of their relationship. Played by François Lafarge with youthful spite and swagger, the miscreant implies to his friend that the relationship between girl and donkey must be sexual in nature if they truly “love” one another. Gérard and his friend’s conception of love is utterly incompatible with that of Marie’s. For them, intimacy is acquired purely through intimidation and sexual coercion. Marie’s affection for Balthazar is, in counterpoint, as alien and unknowable as the donkey’s own brays.

    Image: Au hasard Balthazar, Cinema Ventures, 1966.

    Writing for Bright Lights Film Journal, Alexandra Kulik argues that Balthazar and Marie’s bond reflects the indelible connection of both feminist and animal rights discourse, arguing that Gérard’s incredulity dramatizes, “the sadly abiding notion that certain beings hold dominion over supposed weaker beings, and that feminine values such as compassion and pacifism should be subjugated” (2016). Indeed, both Marie and Balthazar’s suffering can be traced to the androcentrism of their world. Their respective dignities are repeatedly disregarded through various processes of chauvinistic exploitation.

    Not for the faint of heart, the film offers a powerfully cynical representation of a society driven by mercenary greed and commodification, where the girl and donkey’s autonomies are objectified through acts of bartering and outright theft. When Marie seeks refuge at the home of the elderly miller, Pierre Klossowski, he immediately seeks the opportunity to buy a night with the young girl. “Life’s nothing but a fairground, a marketplace where even your word is unnecessary. A banknote will do,” he argues. As with Balthazar, Marie’s bodily identity is valued as a commodity that can be purchased, or, as is the case with Gérard in an earlier sequence, stolen entirely.

    Image: Bresson & Wiazemsky, Anne Wiazemsky, Une année studieuse, Gallimard, 2012.

    Balthazar and Marie’s parallelisms offer numerous opportunities to revisit Godard’s famous suggestion that the girl is herself “I dare say, another donkey” (qtd. Godard & Delahaye, 1967: 11). It’s a statement that clumsily attempts to describe their shared suffering, but more clearly indicates the male-dominated lens of the film industry itself (qtd. Godard & Delahaye, 1967: 11). In the years afterwards, Anne Wiazemsky would, for example, outline her need to continually rebuke Bresson’s advances while filming the feature. In her 2007 autobiography, Jeune fille (‘Girl’), she would remember the director, nearly fifty years her elder, repeatedly holding her arm and attempting to initiate increasingly uncomfortable behaviour: “his mouth sought mine. I found it unbearable and pushed him away,” she would write, “he let go of me and gazed at me with a look of distress, as if I were causing him immense pain.” (2007: 87-88).

    While undoubtedly a production deserved of its lofty cultural status, Au hasard Balthazar is a pointed reminder of the astonishingly skewed systems of power that shape the film industry itself. Bresson wasn’t the only director to develop an infatuation with Wiazemsky. The year after Au hasard Balthazar’s release the actress would marry Jean-Luc Godard, having met him during the film’s production. In a later autobiography, Une année studieuse (2012), Wiazemsky would claim that Godard’s interview with Bresson for Cahiers du Cinéma (the very same exchange cited within this article) acted as a pretence to meet her, after he had become besotted with a photograph he had seen of her (2012: 11).

    Image: Au hasard Balthazar, Cinema Ventures, 1966.

    Just as the power imbalances concerning Marie and Wiazemsky’s experiences echo on-and off-screen, Au hasard Balthazar also forces us to reconcile with the uncomfortable realities that surround the use of animals on film. The identities and experiences of the donkeys that depict Balthazar on set are poorly documented, though it has been reported that “none were trained” and they were, therefore, difficult to work with (Bough, 2011: 68). Even if scenes where the donkeys are lashed and beaten were simulated, clear displays of distress and unease recall the film’s own explorations of non-human voicelessness and disempowerment. There are, thankfully, few scenes that ring particularly concerning alarm bells, but a sequence in which Gérard ties a wad of newspaper to Balthazar’s tail and sets it alight to force him to move appears troublingly unsimulated.

    I am overdue writing a dedicated article that attempts to consider the muted successes of the various regulatory bodies that have historically attempted to ensure acceptable standards of animal welfare within the film industry, but a litany of scandals and accusations reveal the systematic failure to treat such creatures with any measure of dignity. For those interested, ‘Towards enhancing animal welfare standards in UK media,’ published over the last couple of years as Part 1 (2024) and Part 2 (2025), attempt to cover the debate regarding the British film industry, and are worthy of attention. Predictably, they observe several ongoing concerns and argue for “a clear need for change” that “must apply to all stakeholders, from those who train and supply the animals to the production companies booking their services” (Lambert et al., 2025: 19).

    Image: Donkey Tied to a Cart, Pixabay, 2016.

    Outside of cinema, the widespread use of donkeys in labour-intensive and low-capital industries makes tracking the extent of the species’ mistreatment an impossible endeavour. Used for agriculture, haulage, construction, mining, and tourism, the animals remain one of the most commonly exploited due to their resilient and adaptable natures. In their recent article, ‘Scoping Review of the Socioeconomic Value of Working Equids’ (2026), Amelia Cameron et al. attempt to consider the complex questions that surround the creatures’ welfare and the dependencies that ensure numerous low- and middle-income communities remain incredibly reliant on their use. They note that “long work hours, limited rest opportunities, overloading, unsuitable tack and equipment, and a lack of access to suitable food, water, and shelter,” are compounded by a lack of access to veterinary services to compromise the welfare of such animals (Cameron et al. 2026: 2).

    These issues impact not only the creatures themselves, but the numerous communities who rely on working donkeys for their survival. The common issues of “lameness, poor body condition, wounds, colic, infectious disease, and parasites” threaten not only to kill thousands of donkeys annually, but also leave their owners without access to the water, transport, or earnings upon which they depend (ibid.). Cameron et al.’s report highlights the importance of supporting researchers and policymakers to enact meaningful change in various aid programmes, arguing that governments should be lobbied to ensure that working equids and their owners are included in “resource and funding allocations and the development of health and welfare programmes” (ibid.: 41).

    Image: Donkey in Fes, Morocco, akaitori, flickr, 2007.

    In the UK, especially, there is a frustratingly common discourse surrounding our nation’s seemingly disproportionate degree of sentimentality for the plight of donkeys. Last year alone, The Telegraph, The Times, and The Sun all published articles that helped enflame the public level of scorn directed to the number of legacy donations left to British sanctuaries (Mosbacher, 2025, Arbuthnot, 2025, & Hamilton, 2025). The Telegraph’s Michael Mosbacher deserves special mention for his callous disregard when shoehorning his views of Brexit into the discussion, defining the British “mawkishness when it comes to lesser creatures” in seeming opposition to our European neighbours (2025).

    Such attitudes are prevalent across the political spectrum. An investigation by The Guardian noted the animosities that resulted from the Devon Donkey Sanctuary receiving “more in one year than several well-known charities working to combat violence against women did between them” (Glendinning, 2008). Later, they would publish another article that considered the growing number of court cases instigated by disinherited relatives contesting inheritances left to such causes (Barkham, 2015). Donkeys have, therefore, taken on new symbolism in Britain. They have become emblematic of a sentimental victimhood that seeks to misdirect the limited resources required for causes that are considered to be worthier or of more direct self-interest.

    Image: Donkey Sticking Its Head Over a Fence, Pixabay, 2016.

    Current research highlights the uneasy “paradox of collaboration and competition” that sees charities forced to vie for a limited resource of donations, while acknowledging the operational benefits of collaboration towards a shared common good (Garner, 2026: 8). For the sanctuaries, such donations remain both necessary and meaningful. The Guardian’s former article highlighted that the Devon Donkey Sanctuary’s residents’ average lifespan of 27 years could be extended past 50 if given the proper care (Glendinning, 2008). Similarly, the charity’s funds have been instrumental in partnering with several environmental organisations to expose the illegal trafficking of donkey skins for use in the production of ejiao, a Chinese product used for medicinal purposes. Their most recent report estimates that at least 5.9 million donkeys are slaughtered to maintain the current ejiao market (The Donkey Sanctuary, 2025: 9).

    As with the animals’ general welfare, trade of donkey skins has had an irreparable impact upon the living standards of those who own the animals, with widespread theft devastating the lives of the communities and families who own them (ibid.). The Donkey Sanctuary draws on research that evidences that “donkey-owning households in Ghana, for example, derive up to 60% of their income from donkeys. In other cases, working equines support 100% of the annual income of households reliant on crop and cow milk sales” (ibid.: 17). The use of such labour frees up menial tasks that “would otherwise fall to women and children,” allowing for opportunities for childcare, employment, and education that would otherwise prove impossible” (ibid.:18).

    Image: Donkey and Cart, Pixabay, 2012.

    Here in the UK, rising costs of living have resulted in organisations such as the RSPCA reporting “worrying levels of animal abandonment and neglect” (qtd. ‘Sanctuary Sees spike in Dumped Abused Donkeys,’ 2026). In March of this year, Linda Gilbert of Barnhill Donkeys Retreat, Penrith, stated that her sanctuary “ran out of barn space” in this period, and observed that “the state of abuse, neglect and illness these donkeys are in is unprecedented” (ibid.)  “We are in the process of extending the stable yard,” she continues, “but our feed costs have quadrupled and all other bills have rocketed” (ibid.).

    The financial sustainability of such charities should not be taken for granted. Earlier this year, there was shock when horse and donkey sanctuary Redwings closed its sites in both Oxhill and Forfar, citing escalating costs in operation (Blackman, 2026). The closures resulted in the loss of 40 local jobs, two visitor centres that drove local trade and tourism, as well as the rehoming of up to 100 animals to their charity’s Norfolk base (ibid). Neither has Devon’s The Donkey Sanctuary, the largest charity of its type in the UK, been immune to such closures (Adewale, 2024). As CEO Mike Baker would state when acknowledging growing public scrutiny into expenditures, “people say The Donkey Sanctuary is really rich, they come here to see 200 donkeys looking very pampered, imagining them sipping tequila in hammocks but what they don’t see is all the welfare work we do here and overseas in 40 countries. That costs a lot of money and is a significant part of our work” (qtd. Finch, 2018).

    Image: The Donkey Sanctuary, ‘Visit The Donkey Sanctuary Sidmouth,’ YouTube, July 28, 2022.

    Rather than being siloed, the support of animal welfare causes is highly intersectional. It is essential that we recognise the significant interconnections that can be traced throughout the needs of countless marginalised and threatened groups, species, and peoples around the world. An exceptional exemplar of such collaborative causes can be found in the efforts of Ann Odari Onditi, of Kakdhimu, Kenya, who formed an organisation called Amani-K Women Group to help her community better understand how their health and well-being is indelibly tied to that of their donkeys. Describing the effects of ejiao-related trafficking, she would state that “my village has lost seven donkeys in total and my self-help group lost four […] these donkeys were essential to our livelihoods, and their assistance cannot be replaced by any other animal we rear” (td. Lucy 2024).

    Nor should it be surprising that the species has become a symbol of Palestinian endurance amidst the violence ravaging the West Bank and Gaza. Acts of direct attack, seizure, deprivation, and forced separation have led to the abandonment of countless donkeys and other farm animals necessary for the survival of Palestinian communities (Braverman, 2026). In the summer of last year, Palestinian political analyst Ahmed Najar reflected on the animals’ significance when his family was faced with repeated displacement following Israel’s ceaseless bombardment of Gaza, writing that “in that wreckage – in the dust and the terror – donkeys became ambulances, buses, lifelines” (2025).

    Image: ‘Displaced Palestinians Continue to Return to Their Homes Destroyed by Israeli Airstrike in Nuseirat Camp, Gaza Strip,’ United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East, 2025.

    Whether respected as a pillar of our communities’ well-being, or disregarded as a supposedly ‘lesser’ creature to be exploited and eventually transformed into an object of rescue, Au hasard Balthazar highlights the donkey’s position within a complex web of human cruelty, suffering, and penance. Bresson’s skills as a filmmaker ensure that Au hasard Balthazar’s status among the top of institutional polls such as Sight & Sound and the BBC show no signs of abating, while its influences can be traced through later productions such as John Abraham’s Tamil-language Agraharathil Kazhutai (‘Donkey in a Brahmin Village.’ 1977) and Jerzy Skolimowski’s more recent EO (2022).

    When writing ‘Beast of Burden: Bresson’s Balthazar,’ Russell Campbell and Gretchen Hunter question, “why a donkey? Is Bresson concerned about cruelty to animals?” 1973: 21. Their answer is a firm “no – except insofar as the torture of Balthazar represents the treatment meted out to most sentient beings under the existing socioeconomic system […] the beating of Balthazar by Gerard and his gang, for example, seems but a dress rehearsal for what they will later do to Arnold and Marie” (ibid.). The question remains as to what Balthazar’s species means to us: cyphers of only human suffering or beings worthy of their own intrinsic respect.

    Image: Au hasard Balthazar, Cinema Ventures, 1966.

    In Farmed Animals on Film: A Manifesto for a New Ethic (2023), Stephen Marcus Finn argues that, in spite of the continuous anthropomorphised readings of the film, “it is more pertinent to consider Au hasard Balthazar as a film that makes a case for animal rights” (162). Our tendency to dismiss the worthiness of Balthazar’s own significance reminds me of the virtuoso director and, let us not forget, past Nazi-sympathiser, Ingmar Bergman’s opinion that the film was “completely boring” due to the fact that the life of a donkey is, apparently, “completely uninteresting,” whereas “a human being is always interesting” (qtd. Baumbach, 2007).

    Such disinterest and apathy in both practice and theory, still present today, poses a sizeable problem. Film is surely at its most potent when directed against such indifference. The power of cinema’s spectacle resides in its ability to transport us to worlds and states of being outside our own. It is a machine capable of eliciting societal and individual empathy. Anything else is simply egocentrism. Balthazar’s gaze has enthralled audiences for decades and will surely do so for many more to come. Like all great art, it demands that we look.

    If you’ve read this far, and want to contribute to organisations that confront some of the issues covered in this article, please consider donating or engaging with the following:

    Refuge, the UK’s largest organisation of its kind in the UK, helping thousands of women and children escape domestic abuse across the country.

    Disasters Emergency Committee’s Middle East Humanitarian Appeal, where funds are directed to those in need across Gaza, Lebanon, the West Bank and Syria.

    Brooke are notable for working with numerous communities around the world to improve the standards of welfare for both people and their working animals.

    There are many donkey and horse sanctuaries worthy of your support, Hope Pastures do important work rescuing, rehabilitating, and rehoming numerous animals in my local area.

    Head Image: Au hasard Balthazar, Cinema Ventures, 1966.

    Adewale, Dami. 2024. ‘Almost 60 Jobs at Risk as Donkey Sanctuary Proposes Centre Closures,’ Third Sector, May 21: https://www.thirdsector.co.uk/almost-60-jobs-risk-donkey-sanctuary-proposes-centre-closures/management/article/1873485.

    Agraharathil Kazhutai. 1977. D. John Abraha, Film. India: Nirmithi Films.

    Arbuthnot, Leaf. 2025. ‘We Give Donkeys £40 million a Year — Madness or Money Well Spent?’ The Times, October 12: https://www.thetimes.com/life-style/wildlife-nature/article/were-giving-donkeys-40-million-a-year-this-is-what-it-buys-them-n9nss9hbc.

    Au hasard Balthazar. 1966. D. Robert Bresson, Film: Cinema Ventures.

    Barkham, Patrick. 2015. ‘Battle of the Bequests: Animal Charities v Disinherited Relatives,’ The Guardian, July 28: https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/shortcuts/2015/jul/28/animal-charities-relatives-bequests-will-daughter-mother.

    Baumbach, Noah. 2007. ‘On Robert Bresson and Filmed Animals,” Fiction International: https://fictioninternational.sdsu.edu/wordpress/catalog/issue-40-animals/on-robert-bresson-and-filmed-animals/.

    Bazin, André. 1967. What is Cinema? [trans. Hugh Gray]. Berkeley: University of California Press.

    Blackman, Alec. 2026. ‘Rising Costs May Force Horse Sanctuary to Close,’ BBC News, February 28: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/c15xw5kg3v2o.

    Bough, Jim. 2011. ‘The Mirror Has Two Faces: Contradictory Reflections of Donkeys in Western Literature from Lucius to Balthazar,’ Animals 14.1: 56-68.

    Braverman, Irus. 2026. ‘Donkeys Are a Symbol of Endurance for Palestinians – They Are Also a Target of Settler Violence and Care,’ The Conversation, April 27: https://theconversation.com/donkeys-are-a-symbol-of-endurance-for-palestinians-they-are-also-a-target-of-settler-violence-and-care-275639.

    Bresson, Robert. 1977. Notes on Cinematography [trans. Jonathan Griffin]. New York: Urizen Books.

    Cameron, Amelia, Freeman, Sarah L., Wild, Isabella, Burridge, Jessica, & Burrell, Katie. 2026. ‘Scoping Review of the Socioeconomic Value of Working Equids, and the Impact of Educational Interventions Aimed at Improving Their Welfare,’ Animals 16. 165: 1-47.

    Cameron, Sharon. 2011. ‘Animal Sentience: Robert Bresson’s Au hasard Balthazar,’ Representations 114. 1: 1-35.

    Campbell, Russell & Hunter, Gretchen. 1973. ‘Beast of Burden: Bresson’s Balthazar,’ The Velvet Light Trap 9: 19-22.

    Collodi, Carlo. 1883 [1917]. The Adventures of Pinocchio, Chicago: Whitman Publishing.

    The Donkey Sanctuary. 2025. Donkeys in Global Trade – Stolen Donkeys, Stolen Futures: The Impact of Ejiao on Africa’s Women and Children: https://www.thedonkeysanctuary.org.uk/articles/donkey-skin-trade-fuels-crisis-for-africas-women-and-children.

    Dostoevsjky, Fyodor. 1869 [2025]. The Idiot [Trans. Eva Martin], ebook: Global Grey.

    EO. 2022. D. Jerzy Skolimowski, Film. Poland & Italy: Gutek Film.

    Finch, Hannah. 2018. ‘Fact Checking the Myth That The Donkey Sanctuary Is the Richest Charity in the UK,’ Devon Live, August 2: https://www.devonlive.com/news/fact-checking-myth-donkey-sanctuary-1853052.

    Finn, Stephen Marcus. 2023. Farmed Animals on Film: A Manifesto for a New Ethic. Cham: Springer Nature.

    Garner, Johny T. 2026. ‘Frenemies for Good: The Paradox of Collaboration and Competition Among Nonprofit Organizations,’ Voluntas: International Journal of Voluntary and Nonprofit Organizations: 1-9.

    Glendinning, Lee. 2008. ‘Donkeys in Clover – but Charity Leaders Call for a Rethink,’ The Guardian, April 26: https://www.theguardian.com/society/2008/apr/26/voluntarysector.animalwelfare.

    Godard, Jean-Luc & Delahaye, Michel. 1967. ‘Robert Bresson Interview,’ Cahiers du Cinema in English: 5-27.

    Hamilton, Michael. 2025. “Brits Left Seven Times More Cash in Wills to Animals Than Soldiers During 2024 – Including £38m to Donkey Sanctuary,” The Sun, October 4: https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/36913779/will-legacy-donations-animal-charities-veterans/.

    Lambert, Helen, Gordon, Jody, Jackson, Laura, Rogers, Suzanne, Clubb, Rob, White, Jo, Lewis, Sophie. 2024. ‘Towards Enhancing Animal Welfare Standards in UK Media: Part 1; Insights from Public Opinion and Attitudes,’ Human-Animal Interactions 12. 1: 1-14.

    Lambert, Helen, Gordon, Jody, Jackson, Laura, Rogers, Suzanne, Clubb, Rob, White, Jo, Lewis, Sophie. 2025. ‘Towards Enhancing Animal Welfare Standards in UK Media: Part 2; Insights from the Industry,’ Human-Animal Interactions 13. 1: 1-20.

    Lucy, Ivan. 2024. ‘How a Women’s Group is Preserving a Vital Asset in the Face of Disaster,’ Nax Today, May 23: https://nax.today/news/article/705/womens-group-preserving-an-asset-in-the-face-of-disaster.

    Merrington, Andrew. 2025. ‘New Course Offers First-Ever Critical Analysis of the Representation of Donkeys in Film,’ University of Exeter, February 18: https://news.exeter.ac.uk/faculty-of-humanities-arts-and-social-sciences/communications-drama-and-film/new-course-offers-first-ever-critical-analysis-of-the-representation-of-donkeys-in-film/.

    Milne A. A. 1926. Winnie-the-Pooh. London: Methuen & Co. Ltd.

    Mosbacher, Michael. 2022. ‘Welcome to Britain, Where Donkeys Are More Deserving of Our Wealth Than Our Leaders,’ The Telegraph, February 23: https://www.telegraph.co.uk/money/leave-money-donkeys/.

    Najar, Ahmed. 2025. ‘Israelis ‘Rescue’ Donkeys From Gaza, and Now My Disabled Mother Can’t Flee IDF Strikes,’ Hareetz, July 20: https://www.haaretz.com/opinion/2025-07-20/ty-article-opinion/.premium/israelis-rescue-donkeys-from-gaza-and-now-my-disabled-mother-cant-flee-idf-strikes/00000198-186a-dd64-abb9-ba7b6ef80000.

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    ‘Sanctuary Sees spike in Dumped Abused Donkeys.’ 2026. BBC News, March 12: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/ceqve7lxpydo.

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  • “Are We Ready to Go in the Water Again?” the Legacy of the Jaws Effect

    “Are We Ready to Go in the Water Again?” the Legacy of the Jaws Effect

    Before Luke Skywalker learnt to use the Force and before Superman taught us that a man can fly, Jaws (1975) used the toothy imagery of a great white shark to usher in the birth of the blockbuster. It was the mid-1970s, and Hollywood’s major studios no longer sat at the top of the food chain. Instead, investment in lower-budget and often subversive productions like Bonnie and Clyde (1967), The Graduate (1967), and Easy Rider (1969) were proving a smoother passage to financial reward than throwing untold millions into spiralling behemoths such as Cleopatra (1963), Mutiny on the Bounty (1962), and Doctor Doolittle (1967). With the release of Jaws, however, up-and-coming filmmaker Steven Spielberg reminded the industry of the indisputable power of adrenaline-fuelled spectacle. Existential dramas about the American psyche were out; B-movie aesthetics, awe-inspiring monsters, and special effects were in!

    As Linda Ruth Williams and Michael Hammond would summarise, Jaws was “the must see ‘event-movie’ cut to the measure of the big screen, a sure-fire draw that would take families away from their television sets” (2006: 117). In the years since, there have been few movies so frequently discussed, with its tales of behind-the-scenes pandemonium firmly established within the annals of Hollywood legend. The film’s recent 50th anniversary revived interest in the chaotic nature of its production, while Ian Shaw and Joseph Nixon’s stage show, The Shark is Broken (2019), has been met with universal praise for comedically dramatising the intense rivalry between its stars.

    Image: The Shark is Broken, Sonia Friedman Productions, 2025.

    Peter Benchley, the author of the original 1974 novel, had been inspired by his experiences fishing off the waters of Nantucket, as well as a news article from 1964 about “a fisherman who caught a 4,550lb great white off the beaches of Long Island” (Benchley qtd. Dowling 2004). As literary critics of the time noted, Jaws was no Moby Dick (1851), but the frightening prospect of a shark terrorising a seaside community was potent enough to fuel over half a century of oceanic suspense.

    Although Spielberg made use of a few shots of actual sharks during the production of his film, those predominantly seen on screen are animatronic. Three fake great whites were constructed, powered by hydraulic motion so that their immense steel armatures, covered in rubber latex, could thrash around dramatically, while colossal jaws, lined with polyurethane teeth, could chomp together threateningly. Collectively named Bruce after Spielberg’s lawyer, the near constant malfunctioning of these sharks turned a fraught production into one that frequently skirted disaster. A special ‘shark sled’ had to be constructed underwater, allowing the mechanical creatures to be mounted on an adjustable arm and moved along the water’s surface. Battered by seawater and perpetually breaking down, Spielberg would describe them collectively as “the Great White Turd,” as they took enormous bites out of a budget and schedule that were steadily trebling in size (qtd. Fordy, 2025).

    Image: Steven Spielberg and ‘Bruce,’ Universal Pictures, 1975.

    Despite Jaws’ turbulent production, no one could dispute its eventual success. At the box office, it would overtake The Godfather (1972) as the highest-grossing film of all time, subsequently dismounted from its position by the arrival of Star Wars (1977) two years later. The frothing waters of Amity Island seemed to wash away the post-Watergate era of popular American cynicism, with Brody’s heroism providing the nation a victory over a primordial evil that transcended ideological affiliations. The great white’s ravenous appetite for human flesh seemed to have no preference for political allegiance. This was a threat that all could be united against.

    The central myth of Jaws, that of man against nature, was perfectly encapsulated in the marketing materials for the film, which famously reworked the eye-popping painting by Roger Kastel that adorned the cover of Bantam Books’ own publication of the mass-market paperback. Positioning a human victim on the verge of being devoured to ensure that no one could mistake the beast’s scale, the evocation that “here be monsters” acts as one of the most memorable designs in both film and literature’s visual history.

    Image: Jaws, Bantam Books, 1975 & Jaws, Universal, 1975.

    The mythos surrounding the great white shark featured in Jaws was, of course, a constructed fantasy. From an uncharacteristic temperament, vindictively targeting humans, to the supernatural power and endurance required to chomp and smash through the heroes’ vessel, the Orca, the shark in Jaws holds little in common with its real-world equivalents. Even Kastel’s infamous painting used a stuffed mako from the American Museum of Natural History as a point of reference, rather than a great white (Chen 2025).

    Jaws’ conceptual power draws upon centuries of human fascination with these predators. Interestingly, most of the cultures that have shared closest proximity to sharks have placed them in positions of veneration. The Māori’s mythical Parata controls the tides with each immense breath it takes beneath the ocean’s surface, while the Fijian Dakuwaqa is known as a protector of fishermen. A reverence for sharks extends to widespread beliefs, found in Hawaii and the Solomon Islands, that the people’s ancestors could take the form of the fishes, allowing them to act as spiritual guides. The fact that sharks are adept at signalling prosperous fishing waters, and have been known to swim alongside vessels such as canoes, evidences the strong foundations upon which these traditions are rooted (Flannery & Flannery 2023).

    Image: Shark God Dakuwaqa, Photo by Rama, 2017.

    Europeans attempting to expand their power in the age of sail had a different attitude. Frightening encounters with sharks on long voyages led the English mariners of the sixteenth century to refer to the creatures as ‘sea dogs,’ before adopting the word ‘shark’ that had previously been used to refer to otherwise human scoundrels, villains, and swindlers.  Herman Melville himself would sum up such anthropomorphism in his own descriptions of the animals, describing the “rude, savage swagger” of the tiger shark as “a round, portly gourmand; with distended mouth and collapsed conscience, swimming about seeking whom he might devour.” “No wonder, then,” he would add, “that sailors denounce them” (1849: 60).

    Whether valorised or vilified, sharks have, famously, outlived us all. The earliest evidence we have of these cartilaginous creatures dates them back at least 450 million years, surviving five mass extinction events that each variously devastated and wiped-out comparative species (Davis 2018). Is it really possible that a single monster movie from the 1970s could have an indelible impact on their wellbeing? ‘The Jaws Effect,’ as it has become known, attempts to track the extent that the film reshaped audiences’ relationships to sharks and quantify the increased levels of hostility and measurable violence that the animals have been subjected to.

    Image: Jaws, Universal Pictures, 1975.

    As with much of cinema’s history, the furore surrounding Jaws’ release was emboldened by media hype and hysteria. Notably, the film’s PG certificate came at a time preceding the creation of the PG-13 in 1984, and the public were astonished by the film’s gratuity. Charles Champlin would write for The Los Angeles Times that “Jaws is nightmare time for the young. Even the mature are apt to be jolted harder by Jaws than by earlier jeopardy films. Violence done to the helpless, always the hardest to watch, is here compounded because the victims are in the water, an alien environment, demanding and potentially dangerous at best. The inability to flee or fight back, as in a nightmare of paralysis, is real and only too easy to identify with” (qtd. Woerner 2015).

    Universal would licence towels with the slogan ‘if you’re brave… take it to the beach!’ while a tidal wave of media panic accompanied ‘shark scare’ stories to capitalise upon the public’s mounting fears. A Gallup poll conducted at the time of Jaws’ release reported that 23% of men and 47% of women admitted that the film “increased their fear of swimming in the ocean” (Saad 2025), while many have continued to claim that it contributed to a “marked drop in beach attendance” after audiences saw it in cinemas (Fisher 2010).

    Image: Jaws, Universal Pictures, 1975.

    Despite evidence that you are seventy-five times more likely to be killed by a bolt of lightning, already something of a statistically freak occurrence, than suffer the same fate to the jaws of a shark (Naylor 2023), many studies have observed the film’s contribution to a growing hostility towards the fishes. Social scientist Christopher Neff would argue, for example, that the Australian government drew directly on Jaws’ mythos to promote legislation that “allowed for pre-emptively killing individual sharks” that strayed near waters used by humans (2015: 123). His research highlighted what he described as “a worrying style of policymaking where widely known fiction can be used to navigate the attribution of blame and to prescribe policy responses” (ibid: 125).

    Similarly, as Monster Shark Tournaments grew in popularity across the East Coast of the U.S. throughout the 1980s, such competitions would often promote themselves by vilifying the animals’ apparent hostility and position their own activities as responsive acts of social responsibility. In 2016, The Guardian would release a list of major corporations that provided lucrative sponsorship deals to such ‘catch and kill’ events, many of which targeted endangered species. These included organisations such as Coca-Cola, Lexus, Caterpillar, Budweiser, Ford, and Captain Morgan, as well as numerous others (Milman & Mathiesen 2016). Entry fees, cash prizes, and sizeable side bets made such events fiercely competitive and subject to numerous scandals surrounding cheating and prohibited fishing. The wanton slaughter of sharks was not only culturally condoned; it was a practice that could be highly profitable.

    Image: Collection of Don DeMaria, Flickr, 1987.

    As Ashley D. Keefer summarises of such recreational bloodshed, “sharks, as apex predators, are vital to maintaining the balance of marine ecosystems. That ecological balance markedly impacts the tourism-driven economy of local communities. Despite our awareness of the critical importance of maintaining that balance, an estimated seventy-three million sharks are killed by humans each year. Those sharks would probably have a different take on who warrants fear” (2016: 291-292). Keefer goes on to describe how the fishes’ long-lived lifespans, delayed sexual maturity, and low birth rates make them “especially susceptible to human threats” (ibid: 295).

    On screen, Jaws’ mythic representation of predatory terror was strong enough to fuel three direct sequels and popularise an entire sub-genre of ‘sharksploitation’ movies that hit critical mass with the release of The Asylum’s Sharknado (2013). Steven Spielberg himself would recently state that he “really and truly regret[s]” the contribution that his film played in stigmatising sharks in the world’s popular consciousness (‘Steven Spielberg,’ 2022), while Peter Benchley would dedicate much of his professional life to repudiating the claims his novel helped propagate. “What I now know, which wasn’t known when I wrote Jaws, is that there is no such thing as a rogue shark which develops a taste for human flesh,’’ the author would argue, “no one appreciates how vulnerable they are to destruction” (qtd. Delves Broughton 2000). As Benchley observed, despite changing attitudes, many of the species remain in severe danger if humans do not actively reassess their maligned reputation immediately.

    Image: Shawn Rossi, Flickr, 2008.

    Changing perspectives and public advocacy have helped to shut down numerous monster shark tournaments over the last decade. However, troublingly, there is increased interest led by various fishing organisations and notable spokespeople within such competitions in effecting their return, despite the ecological consequences of doing so (Williams 2024). Similarly, important questions remain concerning the questionable survival rates of sharks caught in competitions that have since converted to seemingly ethical ‘catch and release’ practices. Many marine biologists are hard at work attempting to convince the public that animals caught in such a manner will still frequently die from the stress of fighting for their lives on the line and struggling outside the water (Geib 2023).

    Distressingly, new research suggests that the great whites of the Mediterranean are on the cusp of total extinction. Overfishing, as well as the illegal fishing of protected species, has resulted in dwindling populations that are fast becoming unsalvageable (Gill, Stephens, Hughes & Nour 2025). Regulation of industrialised fishing, robust protections for endangered species, and further support to education and training programmes that enable communities to benefit from and utilise sustainable practices will undoubtedly help recover much of our damaged marine ecosystems. Time, however, is running short. Jaws provided audiences with one of the most archetypal figures of inept leadership and obstinate foolishness in Amity’s own Mayor Vaughn. This is the man who, famously, refused to close his island’s beaches despite expert advice and, importantly, witnessing measurable bloodshed. It is ironic, perhaps, that a film that so heavily maligns sharks also signals their only remaining course of salvation. Our own leadership needs to be equivalently pressured, if it is to listen to reason.

    Head Image: Jaws, Universal Pictures, 1975.

    Bonnie and Clyde. 1967. D. Arthur Penn, Film. US: Warner Bros. Pictures.

    Chen, Min. 2025. ‘The Painting That Helped Jaws Make a Killing,’ Artnet, September 15: https://news.artnet.com/art-world/jaws-roger-kastel-academy-museum-2688384.

    Cleopatra. 1963. D. Joseph L. Mankiewicz, Film. US: 20th Century Fox.

    Davis, Josh. 2018. ‘Shark Evolution: a 450 Million Year Timeline,’ Natural History Museum, December 13: https://www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/shark-evolution-a-450-million-year-timeline.html.

    Delves Broughton, Peter. 2000. ‘Jaws author now regrets his “attack” on sharks, The Salt Lake Tribune, April 4: http://www.igorilla.com/gorilla/animal/2000/sharks_peter_benchley.html.

    Doctor Doolittle. 1967. D. Richard Fleischer, Film. US: 20th Century Fox.

    Dowling, Stephen. 2004. ‘The book that spawned a monster,’ BBC News, February 1: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/3400291.stm.

    Easy Rider. 1969. D. Dennis Hopper, Film. US: Columbia Pictures.

    Fisher, Luchina. 2010. ‘Jaws Launched Summer Blockbuster 35 Years Ago,’ ABC News, June 18: https://abcnews.com/Entertainment/jaws-launched-summer-blockbuster-35-years-ago/story?id=10855868.

    Flannery, Tim & Flannery, Emma. 2023.  From Gods to Monsters: How Did We Come to Fear the Shark?” The Guardian, July 29: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/jul/30/from-gods-to-monsters-how-did-we-come-to-fear-the-shark?.

    Fordy, Tom. 2025. ‘Why Steven Spielberg hated the “star” of Jaws,’ The Telegraph, June 20: https://www.telegraph.co.uk/films/2025/06/20/why-steven-spielberg-hated-the-star-of-jaws/.

    Geib, Claudia. 2023. ‘At Sharkathon, Shark Fishers Are a Keen Audience for Conservation Advice,’ Hakai Magazine, December 21: https://hakaimagazine.com/news/at-sharkathon-shark-fishers-are-a-keen-audience-for-conservation-advice/.

    Gill, Victoria, Stephens, Kate, Hughes, Gwyndaf, & Nour, Ahmed. 2025. Great white sharks face extinction in Mediterranean, say researchers,’ BBC News, December 30: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/c9qe9wvq534o.

    The Godfather. 1972. D. Francis Ford Coppola, Film. US: Paramount Pictures.

    The Graduate. 1967. D. Mike Nichols, Film. US: United Artists.

    Jaws. 1975. D. Steven Spielberg, Film. US: Universal Pictures.

    Keefer, Ashley. 2016. ‘We’re Gonna Need a Bigger Boat”: How Federal Regulations of Shark Fishing Tournaments Could Shift the Tides of Conservation Initiatives,’ Jeffrey S. Moorad Sports Law Journal 23. 1, pp. 291-336.

    Melville, Heman. 1849. Mardi: and a Voyage Thither, London: Richard Bentley.

    Melville, Herman. 1851. Moby-Dick; or, The Whale. New York: Harper & Brothers.

    Milman, Oliver & Mathiesen, Karl. 2016. ‘Monster shark fishing tournaments face growing pressure to reform,’ The Guardian, July 19: https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2016/jul/19/atlantic-shark-hunting-tournaments-endangered-species.

    Mutiny on the Bounty. 1962. D. Lewis Milestone, Film. US: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

    Naylor, Gavin. 2023. ‘The International Shark Attack File,’ Florida Museum, May 31: https://www.floridamuseum.ufl.edu/shark-attacks/.

    Neff, Christopher. 2015. ‘The Jaws Effect: How movie narratives are used to influence policy responses to shark bites in Western Australia,’ Australian Journal of Political Science 50. 1, pp. 114-127.

    Saad, Lydia. 2025. ‘Gallup Vault: Jaws Made Waves in 1975,’ Gallup, June 20:  https://news.gallup.com/vault/691907/gallup-vault-jaws-made-waves-1975.aspx.

    The Shark is Broken. 2019-2025. W. Ian Shaw & Joseph Nixon, Play. London: Samuel French.

    Sharknado. 2013. D. Thunder Levin, Film. US: The Asylum.

    Star Wars. 1977. D. George Lucas, Film. US: 20th Century-Fox.

    ‘Steven Spielberg.’ 2022. Desert Island Discs, BBC Radio 4, December 18.

    Williams, Linda Ruth & Hammond, Michael. 2006. Contemporary American Cinema. Maidenhead: McGraw-Hill.

    Williams, Ted. 2024. ‘It’s time for America to outgrow shark tournaments,’ Hatch, July 27: https://www.hatchmag.com/articles/its-time-america-outgrow-shark-tournaments/7715957.

    Woerner, Meredith. 2015. ‘L.A. Times’ original 1975 review of Jaws unearthed: We hated it,’ The Los Angeles Times, June 20: https://www.latimes.com/entertainment/herocomplex/la-et-hc-jaws-original-review-20150619-story.html.

  • Renouncing the Hunt in Predator: Badlands (2025)

    Renouncing the Hunt in Predator: Badlands (2025)

    The business of trophy hunting is booming. The wildlife hunting tourism market is projected to be on the cusp of crossing over one billion dollars in value across the next few years (Coherent Market Insights 2025). This growth has been largely attributed to a rising interest in the display of wild animal body parts to signal status, personal achievement, and mastery over nature. Many of us will have the same picture in mind when we imagine the blood sport in practice. Khaki-covered figures in a ‘grip-and-grin’ posture, rifle in hand while sat on the carcass of big game. The trophies themselves, hides, tusks, horns, and antlers, are, for their owners, reflective of the practical skills required to attain them, but they are also monuments of the cultural and financial privileges through which the sector operates.

    These are not the acts of subsistence hunting or indigenous ritualism that are practiced by countless communities around the world. This is a global business that exists to commodify the lives of rare and exotic animals. There is little dignity, in my opinion, to be found in a banker from Montana jetting off to Tanzania to shoot big game. Many women, of course, are self-identified trophy hunters, but it is not a coincidence that the industry is couched in grotesque machismo and predominantly propped up by men. What better method of reaffirming masculinity than to demonstrate the stoicism required to kill without sentiment? Ernest Hemingway, for example, whose life and work were variously elevated and diminished by a startling level of brutal clarity, expressed no compunction at the prospect of taking such lives when done with seemingly sufficient skill. When wounding a bull and condemning it to a long death while hunting in Africa, he would write that “I felt a son of a bitch to have hit him and not killed him. I did not mind killing anything, any animal, if I killed it cleanly, they all had to die and my interference with the nightly and the seasonal killing that went on all the time was very minute and I had no guilty feeling at all” (1936: 185).

    Image: Ernest Hemingway on Safari in Africa, U.S. National Archives and Records Administration, 1933.

    Since its first instalment in 1987, the Predator franchise has made an indelible mark on the sci-fi and action genres by mythologising trophy hunting as a testosterone-fuelled thrill-ride driven by such acts of lethal prowess. When a ferocious alien arrives on Earth to test the mettle of humanity, Arnold Schwarzenegger is a suitably muscle-bound ambassador for us to deploy in kind. The film acts, alongside many features in the action star’s decades-long oeuvre, as a textbook example of vainglorious action at its most bombastically appealing. The film’s cacophonic barrage of machine guns, flexing biceps, and hyperinflated machismo is delivered in such a straight-faced manner that it’s difficult not to get swept up in its absurd spectacle. This is the film, after all, that features Jesse Ventura offering his buddies chewing tobacco with the cavalier statement that “this stuff will make you a god damned sexual Tyrannosaurus, just like me.” Less lovingly remembered, but no less notable, is the shockingly normalised homophobic expletive that Ventura utters beforehand. In both instances, audiences are in no doubt of the red-blooded virility and violence through which all-American manhood might be derived.

    Collecting the skulls of its victims for display within its spacecraft, the predator acts as an appropriate means for the sci-fi genre to speculate upon the skills and temperament required to be a trophy-hunting glory hound. Directed by John McTiernan, who would follow up on its success with Die Hard (1988), Predator’s high-octane adrenaline was potent enough to sustain thirty-five years of diminishing returns. For all their bravado, Predator 2 (1990), Predators (2010), and The Predator (2018) unfortunately proved themselves to be relatively toothless productions. The less said about Alien vs. Predator (2004) and Aliens vs. Predator: Requiem (2007), the better.

    Image: Predator, 20th Century Fox, 1987.

    Thankfully, the franchise is currently experiencing something of a resurgence due to several projects that have been collectively helmed by Dan Trachtenberg, of 10 Cloverfield Lane (2016) fame. Prey (2022) acted as a noteworthy addition to the series by reframing it’s archetypal ‘wild hunt’ from the perspective of a young Comanche woman, Naru, in the Northern Great Plains of 1719. Played by Amber Midthunder, Naru’s battle against the eponymous alien allows her to demonstrate her strength, resilience, and ability to protect her tribe from the dangers of the wilderness. The animated follow-up, Predator: Killer of Killers (2025), offers similar variance to the franchise, structured through a series of historical vignettes that draws its protagonists from Viking, samurai, and US naval history.

    In defiance of Hollywood’s consistent reluctance to release their intellectual properties from the vice-like grip of nostalgic repetition, the Predator franchise acts as an apt reminder that it is only with the inclusion of new blood and fresh perspectives that popular culture remains timely and resonant. Prey may not be a radical departure from studio convention, but it nevertheless holds the honour of being the first feature film to possess a full dub in the Comanche language. The Predator franchise’s science-fictional explorations of bravery and endurance, violence and reward, demonstrate the richness of hunting mythologies that can be traced throughout all human history. As Brian Boyd argues in On the Origins of Stories (2009), our species’ impulse to shape our social structures through the creation of narratives and myths is evolutionarily tied to the cognitive and biological standards that hundreds of millennia spent as hunter-gatherers instilled within us (167).

    Image: Prey, 20th Century Studios, 2022.

    As the third of Trachtenberg’s entries in the series, Predator: Badlands (2025) had its work cut out to avoid the same sense of inertia that had restricted so many of the series’ previous efforts. Its primary contribution is, therefore, a comparatively sizeable one. The film reframes its action-oriented mythos of trophy hunting through the perspective of Dek, Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi, a member of the alien race that has long acted as the franchise’s antagonists. Borrowing the name of the species, Yautja, from the series’ expanded universe, Badlands ensures all the creatures’ characteristic features are present and accounted for. Schuster-Koloamatangi’s performance, impressively tracked and transformed by mo-cap, renders Dek as a being of cold-blooded lethality, determined to hunt the most dangerous beasts the universe has to offer.

    Anatomically, Dek’s monstrous appearance is similarly familiar to fans of the franchise. His unblinking yellow eyes betray no sense of sentiment, his battle-cries are hollered out through a yawning mouth of sharp teeth and mandibles, and even his blood appears toxic in nature, spattering upon the wilderness in streaks of luminescent green. Due to his towering presence on-screen, Schuster-Koloamatangi found himself repeatedly addressing rumours that he was 7’3”: “I’ve had this question a lot,” he would state through laughter, “everyone is always severely disappointed when they see me because I’m only six foot two” (qtd. in LRM 2025). Dek might not inhabit the role of villain usually adopted by his species, but he nevertheless fulfils the Predator series’ expectations of alien power-fantasy admirably.

    Image: Predator: Badlands, 20th Century Studios, 2025.

    Despite his formidable appearance, Dek is portrayed as an ignoble runt within his species. While he appears sufficiently intimidating to his human audience, compared to his kin, his diminutive size and comparable weakness place him in danger of being culled for the good of the clan’s honour. The film opens with Dek’s father, Njohrr, killing the Yautja’s more physically imposing brother, Kwei, for refusing to do the job himself. For the patriarch, his children’s loyalty to one another is a sign of their emotional frailty, and must be met with fatal recompense. Driven by a desperate need to overcome his perceived inadequacies, Dek embarks on a quest to hunt the Kalisk, a legendary apex predator feared even by Njohrr. “Father calls me the weakest,” Dek says determinedly, “so I must kill the strongest.”

    The film’s first half follows Dek as he tracks the fearsome Kalisk and learns to survive the dangers of its native planet, Genna. Carnivorous vines, poisonous barbs, and fields of razor-like grass, as well as alien variations of bison, vultures, grubs, and snakes all act as hostile antagonists. At first, the Kalisk’s habitat seems to align very closely with the Yautja’s designation of a so-called ‘death planet.’ This is a landscape where every element of its flora and fauna have evolved to compete in a deadly struggle for survival, the perfect arena to test Dek’s cunning and combative abilities, while evidencing his clan’s mantra that ‘Yautja are prey to none. Friend to none. Predator to all.’

    Image: Predator: Badlands, 20th Century Studios, 2025.

    Badlands’ most significant turning point occurs in the middle of its second act, when, finally in combat with the Kalisk, Dek is captured by a Weyland-Yutani expedition who are similarly hunting the creature while exploiting the planet’s natural resources. Weyland-Yutani is, of course, the interstellar conglomerate first introduced in Alien (1979), subsequently crossed-over frequently with the Predator series by their joint-owners, 20th Century Fox, now owned and rebranded by Disney. With speculative stories of corporate hegemony and aggressive resource extraction, life appears to imitates art.

    Exposed to the pillaging practices of Weyland-Yutani, Dek’s story becomes a quest of ecological redemption. Revisiting Kwei’s ship and ruminating on the sacrifice that his brother paid to spare his life, the Yautja realises that strength and bravery are not measured by unthinking brutality, but by a resilience of character that is uncowed by an overwhelming adversary. Mounting an attack on the company’s compound, Dek employs the knowledge of Genna’s ecology that he had previously utilised to conquer it. Various local animals are recruited as allies, while the planet’s dangerous vegetation is crafted into an assortment of darts and explosives. Badlands reframes the carnage and excitement of its hunt through the spectacle of anti-corporate vigilantism and eco-activism. Rather than killing the Kalisk, Dek’s sense of self-worth is pivoted by his desire to liberate the creature and reunite it with its young.

    Image: Predator: Badlands, 20th Century Studios, 2025.

    The film’s coda sees Dek return to his father, who is disgusted when he discovers that the trophy his son has claimed is the head of a Weyland-Yutani android, rather than that of the Kalisk. “I’ve completed my hunt,” says the younger Yautja defiantly, casting the burned-out metal skull at his feet. Njohrr’s contempt sparks one final trial by combat, this time between parent and offspring. Dek’s righteous fury and skill carries him to victory, proving that he is not as weak as his father suspected. The boon that he had once desperately craved, Njohrr’s acceptance of him, is met by Dek’s indifferent rejection that “I have my own clan,” as he watches the Kalisk’s child casually behead him. Violence and spectacle might remain Badlands’ operating principle, but it is notable for exultating in its protagonist’s refusal to slay his questing beast.

    Dek’s rejection of his patriarch’s trophy-hunting demands aligns him with a time-honoured history of myths, legends, and folktales that extol the virtue of similar protagonists who transgress dominant expectations of the treatment of animals. Whether it is Siddhartha saving a hunted swan, Androcles caring for a wounded lion, Francis of Assisi taming the Wolf of Gubbio, or King Śibi offering sanctuary to a dove, centuries of fables collectively attempt to reassess humanity’s dismissal of other species’ rights to ethical consideration. As Imelda Martin Junquera and Francisco Molina Moreno summarise in ‘Mythology and Ecocriticism: A Natural Encounter’ (2018), ‘just as certain myths have legitimised the subjugation and exploitation of nature by humankind, others reflect a will to attain a harmonious relationship with the natural environment (6).

    Image: Predator: Badlands, 20th Century Studios, 2025.

    Badlands’repositioning of its audience’s perspective into that of its seemingly antagonistic aliens is its most important facet. It’s a shift that places the film firmly within science fiction’s tradition of posthuman concerns, challenging a host of anthropocentric biases. Helen Kopnina (2020) is one of many anthropologists to argue that such questions are of the utmost importance to contemporary culture, claiming that they have the potential to expose what she calls ‘the central tenets that define humanism,’ by ‘condemning speciesism, human chauvinism, and human supremacy’ (2).

    Beyond upending its myth of the hunt, Badlands’ does this most directly by featuring absolutely no human characters whatsoever throughout the entirety of its running time. Alongside Dek and his clan of Yautja, the Weyland-Yutani expedition is entirely made up of the synthetic lifeforms that have played a prominent role in the Alien franchise. Receiving top-billing is Elle Fanning as Thia, an android who serves as Dek’s companion throughout his adventure. The Yautja’s respect for her is, following their initial meeting, comparable to the meagre courtesy he extends to the other lifeforms he encounters on Genna. He ignores her name and refers to her instead as “tool” when learning that she is synthetic, carrying her severed torso around like a backpack so that she may aid him on his hunt. Thia’s attempts to unite with her surviving twin ‘sister,’ Tessa, has a similarly tragic trajectory to Dek’s own ambitions for familial acceptance. Both characters are born from oppressive systems of power, corporate and tribal, that deny them the communal belonging that they crave.

    Image: Predator: Badlands, 20th Century Studios, 2025.

    It is Thia who first challenges Dek’s inherited belief that strength within a hunting community is best cultivated through individualism and self-reliance, informing him that “the alpha isn’t the wolf who kills the most, the alpha is actually the one who best protects the pack.” Dek’s dismissal of Thia’s call for communal cooperation, “I will be the alpha that kills the most,” is weathered away by Badlands’ conclusion. It is his relationship to the synthetic and the other creatures of Genna that eventually allows him to free the Kalisk, reject his father, and develop a new understanding of his social value.

    Interestingly, Dek’s shift in perspective reflects the recognition of several endemic flaws that Craig Stanford associates with hunting practices that can be traced back to our species’ pre-history. In The Hunting Apes: Meat Eating and the Origins of Human Behaviour (1999) Stanford argues that much of humanity’s inability to maintain social solidarity and empathy has been modelled and worsened by practices of ‘meat acquisition rather than meat sharing’ that have physiologically and culturally been engrained within us (11). Dek’s own character arc similarly teaches us that survival of the fittest relies as much on social cooperation as it does the prioritising of self-sufficiency.

    Image: Predator: Badlands, 20th Century Studios, 2025.

    Similarly, Badlands’ reliance on an entirely posthuman cast signals several ethical concerns regarding disparate approaches to hunting practices. Humanity remains notable through its lack of physical presence upon the surface of Genna. Weyland-Yutani has no desire to risk human lives during its resource extraction if synthetic lifeforms can be reproduced and disposed of remorselessly. In contrast, the Yautja’s own hunting ideologies, as brutal as they might seem, possess a modicum of honour based on the stakes and consequences risked if their efforts meet with failure. Their bravery and skills are tested within a variety of dangerous environments that they have neither industrialised or dominated. The ritualistic nature of Dek’s hunt demands he triumph over an opponent that is provided with advantage. Anyone with familiarity of the Predator franchise will know that the Yautja will not needlessly kill a creature that does not pose an immediate threat.

    It is difficult, therefore, to relate the Yautja’s hard-fought successes to the trophy hunting industries of our contemporary cultures. Little personal merit accompanies, for example, the act of Donald Trump Jr. spending over $17,000 of American tax-payers’ money to hunt argali and ibex sheep in Mongolia (White and Honl-Stuenkel 2020). It is nigh on impossible to find nobility in his taking of such lives when one considers the fact that he did not possess a licence to do so, and was only provided one retroactively (ibid.). This sense of entitlement and privilege exists in dichotomy to the hunting practices of communities that, for centuries, have accounted for far greater care and deference for our natural world. As Calvin Martin observed in Keepers of the Game (1978), the hunting practices of the Ojibwa people stand in stark contrast “to the exalted position” that humanity places itself within much of “Judeo-Christian tradition” (74).

    Image: Donald Trump Jr and companions in Mongolia, Field Ethos, 2022.

    Trump Jr. has repeated all of the usual arguments that are trotted out when questioned on his recreational interest in killing living creatures. When British gun manufacturer John Rigby & Company interviewed him during a deer-stalking trip in Oxfordshire, he obliged by rolling through them one by one. Rather than being a practice embedded in everyday rural existence, it is, for him, a holiday: “a great escape from some of the nonsense of the world” (qtd. in Brodie 2025). He is keen to describe shooting a roebuck with a broken leg as “the right thing to do,” a seeming act of mercy that helps the herd’s well-being (ibid.).

    His hunting partner, Rigby’s managing director Marc Newton, adds that heritage and a sense of historical connectiveness is also of apparent importance. “I can imagine our ancestors doing much the same thing,” Newton says, reaffirming the masculine power-dynamics of the culture by describing his own expedition with Trump Jr. as “three blokes out there spending time with one another” (ibid.). The most frequent defence of trophy hunting seeks to position the blood sport as an act of conservation and wilderness management. As Trump Jr. himself states, “we’ve hunted in the most pristine landscape today and it’s key that we conserve that for the future” (ibid.). His statement that “I’ve not been an angel but hunting has kept me out of a lot more trouble I’d have found myself in without it” speaks volumes to his beliefs concerning the psychological merits of firearm use and a recreational outlet for violence (ibid.).

    Image: A Herd of Deer, Lewis Ashton, Pexels, 2021.

    Even if one wishes to overcome the sizable ethical concern presented when justifying the pleasure and enjoyment found in the killing of a living creature, an over-whelming number of environmental scientists and organisations argue that corporatising conservation efforts and tying ecological management to tourism revenue and financially-motivated practices is entirely counter-productive. The repeated refrain that such trophy hunters are “killing them to save them,” is, in the minds of environmental law scholars such as Myanna Dellinger, entirely fallacious. “Doubt about the true conservation value, if any, of trophy hunting is still raised as a reason to continue the practice,” she writes, “this is turning the situation and applicable law on its head: when in doubt, we must – under the precautionary principle of law and for reasons of common sense – err on the side of saving the species” (2019: 59).

    Scandals continue to abound of the population decline of rare, high-value game, corruption in hunting governance, regulatory loopholes, and rampant illegal poaching due to a spiralling global marketplace for their remains. A report on trophy hunting from last year tallied that “in 2023 alone hunters took home over 25,000 bodies and body parts from 100 threatened species and an estimated 100,000 trophies were taken from all wild species” (Warner 2025). The killing of Cecil the lion in 2015, where the creature was illegally lured from a nature reserve, shot with a compound bow, and left critically injured for over ten hours before being killed, beheaded, and skinned, caused justified international outrage against the Minnesotan dentist who had reportedly paid $50,000 for the privilege (Kassam & Glenza 2015). Even so, in the decade that has followed, at least 10,000 more lions have been killed by similar acts of trophy hunting (Warner 2025).

    Image: Lion Shot by Kermit Roosevelt, Picryl: 1919.

    Here in the UK, the Animals (Low Welfare Activities Abroad) Act 2023 has been introduced to regulate the use of captive animals for entertainment tourism, but it is notable that the more expansive Animals Abroad Bill was blocked by prominent Conservative members Jacob Rees-Mogg and Mark Spencer (Dalton 2022). This Bill, which would have introduced measures to outlaw the import of hunting trophies, furs, and foie gras had been promised in the party’s 2019 manifesto, and was curtailed by the ministers for being, in their words, ‘un-Conservative’ (ibid.).

    The current Labour government has promised to introduce such legislation, but recent news reports that the U.S. Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum has reached out to the UK’s Environment Secretary, Emma Reynolds, suggest direct attempts to hamper such efforts. Burgum reportedly expressed “concern about any bill that would crack down on trophy imports, arguing that trophy hunting benefits wildlife conservation and communities around the world” (Block 2026). It remains to be seen whether pressure from the US administration will restrict the UK’s animal welfare reform in the same manner that its wider policy has taken a sledgehammer to broader acts of international cooperation and global stability.

    Image: Jacob Rees-Mogg and Mark Spencer, Justin Tallis via Getty Images: 2022.

    Summarising increasing frustration with several European nations’ resistance to the ban of such imports, former president of Botswana, Ian Khama would state “with the decline of wildlife worldwide, and many species approaching extinction, all caused by man, how can there be justification in trophy hunting? How can any government say they are fighting poaching whilst allowing trophy hunting at the same time?” (qtd. in Millar 2024: 52). Kharma’s call for clarity and action is all the more remarkable considering the fact that 86% of the UK’s population reportedly supports the ban, rising to 92% of Conservative party voters, despite their ministerial attempts to block it (Millar 2024: 39).

    It might seem strange to attach such politically-charged and contentious debates to a film that derives its pleasures so obviously from pulse-pounding action. As Cary Wolfe notes of animal studies more generally in What is Posthumanism? (2010), “just because we direct our attention to the study of nonhuman animals, and even if we do so with the aim of exposing how they have been misunderstood and exploited, that does not mean that we are not continuing to be humanist – and therefore, by definition, anthropocentric” (2010: 99). The ideologically circumscribed Walt Disney Company is certainly ill-equipped in its capacity to disrupt such perspectives of the world.

    Image: Predator: Badlands, 20th Century Studios, 2025.

    Still, I would contend that Predator: Badlands is a welcome, if minor, distraction from the cultural and political drive towards self-interest and individual populism. It’s posthuman cast face problems similar to our own. Deliberately subjugated, Dek has been forced by his paternalistic clan to direct his anger against those in similar positions of subordination. Like him, our struggle requires us to reject the overwhelming number of voices that encourage us to embrace callous and fatalistic worldviews. Badlands’ representation of a world where action might be utilised to overthrow such perspectives provides much-needed catharsis.

    Head Image: Predator: Badlands, 20th Century Studios, 2025.

    Alien. 1979. D. Ridley Scott, Film, US: 20th Century Fox.

    Alien vs. Predator. 2004. D. Paul W. S. Anderson, Film, US: 20th Century Fox.

    Aliens vs. Predator: Requiem. 2007. D. The Brothers Strause, Film, US: 20th Century Fox.

    Block, Kitty. 2026. ‘Trophy Hunting Does Not Benefit Animals, No Matter What US Interior Secretary Claims,’ Humane World, February 3: https://www.humaneworld.org/en/blog/uk-trophy-hunting-trade-bill.

    Boyd, Brian. 2009. On the Origin of Stories: Evolution, Cognition, and Fiction. Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press.

    Brodie, Liz. 2025. ‘Donald Trump Jr. Tracks the Traditions of the Hunt,’ John Rigby & Co, July 31: https://www.johnrigbyandco.com/donald-trump-jr-tracks-the-traditions-of-the-hunt/.

    Coherent Market Insights. 2025. ‘Wildlife Tourism Market,’ in Market Research Report, March 25: https://www.coherentmarketinsights.com/market-insight/wildlife-hunting-tourism-market-4922.

    Dalton, Jane. 2022. ‘Jacob Rees-Mogg Refuses to Debate Why He ‘Blocked’ Bill That Would Have Spared Elephants from Torture,’ The Independent, June 10: https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/rees-mogg-bill-mark-spencer-elephants-ban-b2098382.html.

    Dellinger, Myanna. 2019. ‘Trophy Hunting – A Relic of the Past,’ Journal of Environmental Law & Litigation 34: 25-60.

    Die Hard. 1988. D. John McTiernan. Film, US: 20th Century Fox.

    Hemingway, Ernest. 1936 [2004]. Green Hills of Africa. London: Vintage.

    Kassam, Ashifa & Glenza, Jessica. 2015. ‘Killer of Cecil the Lion Was Dentist from Minnesota, Claim Zimbabwe Officials,’ The Guardian, July 28: https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2015/jul/28/killer-of-cecil-the-lion-was-american-zimbabwe-officials-claim.

    Kopnina, Helen. 2020. ‘Anthropocentrism and Post-humanism,’ The International Encyclopedia of Anthropology, ed. Hilary Callan. Chicester: John Wiley & Sons: 1-9.

    LRM. 2025. ‘Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi is Not 7’3″ To Play Predator in Predator: Badlands,’ YouTube, November 9: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/AJL3_D1xaKY.

    Martin, Calvin. 1978. Keepers of the Game: Indian-Animal Relationships and the Fur Trade. Berkeley: University of California Press.

    Martin-Junquera, Imelda & Molina Moreno, Francisco. 2018. ‘Mythology and Ecocriticism: A Natural Encounter Introduction,’ Ecozon@, 9. 2: 1–7.

    Millar, Lydia. 2024. ‘In Memory of Cecil the Lion: An Analysis of Trophy Hunting, CITES and the Way Forward,’ UK Journal of Law 8.1: 38-52.

    Predator. 1987. D. John McTiernan. Film, US: 20th Century Fox.

    Predator 2. 1990. D. Stephen Hopkins. Film, US: 20th Century Fox.

    Predator: Badlands. 2025. D. Dan Trachtenberg, Film, US: 20th Century Studios.

    Predator: Killer of Killers. 2025. D. Dan Trachtenberg, Film, US: 20th Century Animation.

    Predators. 2010. D. Nimród Antal. Film, US: 20th Century Fox.

    Prey. 2022. D. Dan Trachtenberg, Film, US: 20th Century Studios.

    Stanford, Craig B. 1999. The Hunting Apes: Meat Eating and the Origins of Human Behaviour. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

    The Predator. 2018. D. Shane Black. Film, US: 20th Century Fox.

    Warner, Caitlin. 2025. “Biggest Ever Global Exposé of Trophy Hunting Industry,” Global Media Centre, June 30: https://www.globalmediacentre.com/news/biggest-ever-global-expose-trophy-hunting-industry.

    Wolfe, Cary. 2010. What is Posthumanism? Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.