Truthfully, nature documentaries are not my most favorite thing in the world. Every year, around Earth Day, the streamers all start circling each other like they’ve entered some kind of Planet Earth Thunderdome. This year, Netflix rolled out A Gorilla Story at nearly the exact same time Disney Plus launched their annual “look how beautiful and terrifying nature is” feature, and much like two alpha silverbacks crashing into each other over territory, only one really walked away with my attention. Sorry Josh Gad. Not everything is better in summer.

Slight edge to A Gorilla Story. The documentary follows a clan of gorillas Sir David Attenborough first encountered back in the 1970s, presumably before his voice became legally required for all footage involving leaves, mist, or emotionally conflicted mammals. The film charts the evolution of this group across generations, with Attenborough revisiting them like the creeper he is. I don’t stalk gorillas. Do you?

And naturally, because this is how we make audiences emotionally invest in wildlife documentaries, every gorilla has a name now. We do this with everything. If humanity wants you to care about something, we slap a cute or accessible name on it and suddenly everyone is locked in emotionally. Good Night Oppy did this with a Mars rover and somehow convinced half the planet to mourn a machine powered by solar panels. I’m pretty sure if they called it Good Night Opportunity nobody would have cried. Meanwhile, these gorillas are now discovering in real time that apparently they’ve all had names this whole time.

The actual educational content here is solid enough. You learn a decent amount about gorilla behavior, hierarchy, protection, and survival instincts. The documentary wisely ducks around the mating footage, which is greatboth for children and frankly for myself. Nature documentaries always hit that weird crossroads where they’re simultaneously trying to be educational and one shot away from creating a who new subgenre, and a new gang of, um, enthusiasts.

What works best is Attenborough himself. At this point, his narration is less narration and more a built in comfort setting. His voice carries this immediate prestige where even if he’s describing a gorilla scratching itself against a tree, it sounds like ancient prophecy. Netflix knows exactly what they’re buying when they hire him, and honestly, so do we.

There is one sequence involving tragedy that the documentary describes extremely well, though I do think some audiences may recoil from it a bit. Nature documentaries have always occupied this strange territory where they’re technically family friendly until nature suddenly remembers it is horrifying. If you’ve watched enough of these over the years, chances are you’ve already seen worse. Anyone who grew up on Discovery Channel marathons probably has at least three deeply upsetting animal kingdom memories permanently burned into their brain already.

As for the audio description, it is actually pretty thoughtfully done considering the challenge involved. When your documentary already comes packaged with one of the most recognizable narrators on Earth, there’s naturally less available room for additional description. If David Attenborough wasn’t here, there would probably be far more descriptive space because there’s almost no traditional dialogue otherwise. But let’s also be honest, without Attenborough, the audience for this probably shrinks considerably. He’s essentially the Morgan Freeman of endangered primates. Although, Freeman has carved out a unique brand of his own narration. Penguins (March Of The Penguins) and Netflix’s limited imagination series The Dinosaurs.

A Gorilla Story is perfectly fine. Maybe even slightly better than that. I don’t know if it reaches the upper tier of nature documentaries people revisit for years afterward, but it’s engaging enough, occasionally emotional, and anchored by one of the most comforting voices ever recorded. Sometimes that’s enough.

Fresh: 6.3/10