Nocturnes: moths are the stars of this intoxicating nature documentary

Anirban Dutta and Anupama Srinivasan’s gently immersive documentary observes the beauty of moths in the eastern Himalayas, and questions what climate change will mean for their habitat.

Nocturnes (2024)

For the moth-hunters of Nocturnes to carry out the fieldwork shown in this intoxicating nature documentary, they must first impersonate the moon. High in the eastern Himalayas, we watch entomological detective Mansi Mungee and Bicki, a man from the indigenous Bugun community of Arunachal Pradesh, set up a screen of white material in the darkness. On days when the lunar light is low, they can “dare to compete” with the moon, drawing moths to their makeshift grid to be studied: a moon, waiting for an eclipse of moths. Soon the screen is teeming with hundreds of moths of all shapes, colours and sizes – fluttering debutantes taking to the floor at a Regency ball. With its mesmeric micro-cinematography, Nocturnes feels similar to Claude Nuridsany and Marie Pérennou’s 1996 insect doc Micro cosmos, allowing us to investigate the dusty filigree of a moths’ wings, or watch them stumble along like a drunken hang gliders.

Directors Anirban Dutta and Anupama Srinivasan (whose film Flickering Lights, about the arrival of electricity in the Indian village of Tora, screened at festivals alongside Nocturnes) were working on a film about snow leopards when they met Mansi and caught her moth obsession. Dutta was particularly enchanted by the moth screen, a reminder of a childhood spent watching films at DIY outdoor cinemas in Andaman. Using multiple mikes, they capture the vivid soundscape of the moths as they flutter in unison – a sound uncannily like the whirr of a 35mm film projector.

The film shares some similarities with recent nature documentaries – including Victor Kossakovsky’s monochrome portrait of a pig’s life Gunda (2020) and Andrea Arnold’s harrowing bovine view of the dairy industry Cow (2021) – which de-centre humans, relying less on voiceover to look at the animal experience. But Nocturnes also gives space to the painstaking repetition of fieldwork – there are thousands of species of moth to study, so Mansi and her colleagues choose to focus on the hawk moth (to Hollywood, the poster star of The Silence of the Lambs, 1991), snapping photos, taking measurements, getting soaked by punishing rainfall. Gorgeous wide shots make the workers aphid-sized in the expanse of the forest. Less interesting are the cuts to Mansi at her computer or in the lab. But that mundane work is crucial to the moths’ story, subtly leading us to the inevitable discussion of climate change, and how it will eventually devastate their habitat. When Mansi explains that moths pre-date dinosaurs and flowering plants, we’re the ones who feel small.

► Nocturnes is in UK cinemas now.