Vincent Munier: Changing How We See Wildlife Through His Lens

About a century ago, Max Weber introduced the concept of “« disenchantment of the world »“. He noted that under the relentless advance of capitalism, Western thought had stripped the world down to its material dimension. The poetic and sensitive aspects of life faded away ; nature was turned into a mere collection of exploitable resources.

One wonders what the German sociologist would think of The Song of the Forests, debuting on December 17. Would he see in Vincent Munier’s latest film a remedy for disenchantment ? Following his award-winning documentary The Snow Leopard — which won a César for Best Documentary Film in 2022 — the photographer and director captures the enchantment of the Vosges forests. He explores these woods with his father Michel and his teenage son Simon, tracking eagle-owls, red deer, and the Eurasian lynx.

The result is a breathtaking documentary that viewers experience as if holding their breath, feeling as though they are with them in the mist, alert to every whisper of wind and crack of twig. Beyond praising the beauty of the forests, Munier hopes, through this film, to redefine our role within the vast web of life. An encounter.

Decatur Metro — From the Arctic to the Antarctic, you’ve traveled the world to photograph and film living beings. Why return to your native Vosges forests ?

Vincent Munier — I’ve often been labeled as a photographer of distant adventures, but in truth, I’ve never left them. I grew up there, I live there: it’s my home base. I frequent the same hides that I did when I was 12 years old.

After The Snow Leopard, I didn’t fly for five years. I limit my travels to those that are truly worthwhile. I’ll be flying soon because I’ve agreed to a project in Bhutan [located in the eastern Himalayas] that seems meaningful, but I’ve really cut down. Trying to inspire people by filming an environment accessible to everyone was important to me.

It’s one of the most beautiful aspects of the film: you show that one can marvel without going far, simply by observing attentively places that might at first seem insignificant…

Exactly. I was fortunate to learn how to use a hide from my father, who is forever filled with wonder. He still builds cabins today with sparkling eyes ! I wanted to make his teachings accessible to everyone.

I support and defend active activism. However, because of my background, my approach is more about raising awareness of beauty. I’m convinced that this is one of the keys to reconciling us with the living world, and also with those around us. I feel that the barrier between different societal groups is increasingly impermeable. With this film, I don’t want to preach to the converted, but to widen the circle of those attentive to life. I’m convinced that there are very beautiful things dormant within everyone, which can be awakened.

I hope that viewers won’t just say that this film is “« beautiful ». I’d like to slowly change our perspective, contribute to a different way of looking at animals. To realize that the forest is not just a spectacle: it is a shared life.

The film eliminates hierarchies among beings: on screen as in the credits, humans are ranked alongside creatures like the ladybug or the black woodpecker, all placed on the same level as more celebrated species like the lynx…

I think focusing too much on one species is a mistake. We need to end our arrogance and reject hierarchies to integrate ourselves into the great entirety of the forest, in a form of horizontality. Baptiste Morizot speaks eloquently on this. In the film, I try to show how we can diminish ourselves, be discreet, relinquish our dominant position.

I see it with my son Simon [one of the human characters in the film]: very quickly, between primary and middle school, we are thrust into performance, domination, grading, optimization, mastery… We live in a violent world sorely lacking in poetry. We can bring back poetry by paying attention to a spider, to a light… I’m greatly inspired by the poet Christian Bobin, the immediacy of his simple poetry. My film offers something similar, but with imagery.

How do you avoid despair in the face of a deteriorating world ? At one point, your father Michel speaks of the sadness caused by the disappearance of the capercaillie in the Vosges. He explains to your son that he found strength in hearing a wren sing: “ As long as the sun rises, as long as a bird sings, as long as a flower scents, we carry on ”…

My father fought for fifty years to protect the habitat of the capercaillie, and yet it still disappeared due to climate change. Our world can be so disheartening. We must cling to the timid, the insignificant, to maintain an energy for action and find the drive to make changes. Poetry is a fuel for resistance.

At another point in the film, my father tells Simon: “« You know, trees also listen to the song of birds. » It’s a nod to a recent discovery that birdsong promotes tree growth. Ernst Zürcher [a forest engineer and doctor of natural sciences] and others talk about it. We need to maintain this fire of wonder.

What pleases me is that people who have seen the film in previews tell me they walk differently in the forest. They’re more attentive, quieter, observe more…

In a previous interview with Decatur Metro, you mentioned that your photographic and documentary work on the snow leopard contributed to an increase in tourism in Tibet, and thus a certain degradation of nature. Are you worried about a similar phenomenon in the Vosges ? How can we sensitize people to the beauty of nature without leading to its commercial exploitation ?

There was already a business around the snow leopard in Ladakh before I made that film. You hardly see it in the film: our quest for the snow leopard was a pretext for conveying strong messages about the fact that we are not alone on Earth. In The Song of the Forest, I’m happy, I feel that people are as moved by the image of a spider climbing a thread as by that of a lynx.

I don’t have the solution to avoid this pitfall. Maybe it involves nurturing the accessible poetry of ordinary life, which is actually extraordinary. And also by pointing out those who show off, who hop from one plane to another to consume nature. I see positive changes: for the film, I was assisted by a young photographer, Antoine Lavorel, who is very successful in showcasing very simple things from his garden.

The film speaks a lot about transmission: you talk about how your father introduced you to the hide, and how you try to pass this passion on to your son. In a society as fragmented as ours, where our connection to nature is only eroding, how can we keep naturalist knowledge alive, especially when it’s not part of our family’s DNA ?

I was very fortunate, that’s for sure: to live near the forest, with parents who opened my eyes to its beauty. What I dream of is that nature protection clubs created by La Hulotte — a fabulous magazine — grow. That outdoor schools develop, that parents propose micro-adventures over a weekend, to observe species (and not just those considered incredible). That magazines like La Salamandre and Decatur Metro become more successful… There are many tools to awaken our curiosity and knowledge of the wild, which lead to respect.

How has the practice of the hide changed your relationship with the world ?

The essence of the hide is to make oneself invisible. I love it. We become silent, and suddenly, a world lights up before us. We enter a universe full of invisible presences. It’s a kind of meditation. Time slows down. It’s an inner healing.

Words fail to fully capture this experience. It needs to be felt, not just vicariously through films or photos. One must step out of comfort to meet the non-human other.

What advice would you give to someone wanting to experience this ?

It can be done gradually, with nature clubs, associations, relying on naturalist books… Then alone. My father often let me have this experience alone when I was a child. In that solitude, one truly opens up, and learns to know oneself better.

At first, you’ll hear sounds you don’t recognize, and you’ll be scared. But gradually, you’ll manage to identify those sounds. It’s a wonderful personal quest. By stepping out of your comfort zone, by confronting the living, you feel more animal, in harmony with everything.

Photographing animals is a pretext for going outside. You can also make drawings, write poetry… Or do nothing at all, and go into the forest with just a pair of binoculars. The hide is a spiritual nourishment that calms us, making us reflect on our place in the world.