The slow-motion shots in “Every Little Thing” of hummingbirds captured in flight, beaked deep in a flowering bud, or hovering at 50 beats per second, evoke awe. Director Sally Aitken’s nature documentary comes as a balm in a painful season of uplift. Since 2008, hummingbird sage Terry Masser has run a hotline, answering calls from strangers who find the iridescent-feathered, delicate and surprisingly bold birds injured or unconscious in their swimming pools, on roads, lying under trees. There have been over 20,000 calls.
Like pilgrims filled with fear and hope, Angelenos bring their precious gifts to Maser’s home in the hills of Los Angeles. “It’s careful, emotional work,” rehabilitating these birds, one person says over the radio as the hummingbirds begin their migration to the area where they nest.
Although the slow-motion images in the documentary are captivating (stunning wildlife photography by Anne Johnson Broome), hummingbird lovers know that there is something equally if not more mesmerizing about the speed of their flight, the electric clicking and buzzing that signals their proximity.
As with few recent documentaries featuring animals, much of the film’s fascination comes through the interaction between human and animal: here, Messier’s brief but profound relationship with her wings and those who find them. The curly-haired, polo-shirt-wearing wildlife is not only a beacon to those who find disturbed birds, but is often a soothing of their fears. A young woman named Sydney brings home two chicks. The “Sydney Twins,” as Maser calls them, are in a small nest still attached to a branch in a box. As she surveyed the couple, Maser gently pointed out strands of blonde hair — Sydney’s hair — woven into the nest.
High season, from April to July, keeps it busy. She leads a man named Alejandro through a dilemma: a bird has entered his house and is crashing through a skylight. The stories of Jimmy, the twins, Charlie and Risene are not without pathos. The adorable little bird called a cactus looks like it’s been squashed by a porcupine; She collided with a cactus and the spines punctured her wings. As Masar tells the director, the prognosis is “very bleak.”
Masar wrote the 2015 book The Fastest Things on the Wings: Saving Hollywood’s Hummingbirds, which feeds into the film. Aitken turns this inspiration into a process of translation, a new form that honors the truths of previous visions. Just like that nest containing strands of Sydney’s blonde hair, Maser’s biography is woven into the narrative.
The film begins with a home movie image of a girl descending down a rocky hill. Her arms windmill like the wings of a hummingbird flailing in slow motion. Aitken arouses our curiosity with lyrical images. We’re about halfway through the film before Aitken starts sharing Masear’s past in a more conventional way. I grew up in rural southern Wisconsin. She was disturbed. She headed to Los Angeles, a place without borders, the place where she met her husband, Frank. There is more to the couple’s story that seems to have laid the foundation for Masir al-Samari’s work.
“I try not to get attached,” she says somewhat unconvincingly. “Because it hurts too much.” Naming is a form of attachment. Viewers are sure to develop feelings for Jimmy, Charlie, Raisin, Mikhail, Alexa, and Cactus. There’s also Sugar Baby, whose wings nearly came off because his “savior” didn’t know how to take care of hummingbirds. Not everyone who comes into contact with Destiny tells the truth about how the birds became so injured, which angers her. “This bird is a mirror of their attitude toward the entire natural world,” she says.
There will be arrivals and there will be departures. But the film overflows with love and hope, amidst losses and liberations. Masar later admitted, “I do not measure the success of the rescue operation by the result.” “But with mercy.”
“Life is a series of metaphors piled on top of each other,” Masar says philosophically. However, she and her director (maker of “Playing With Sharks,” another documentary featuring the protagonist) know that there are ways to learn from animals that don’t resort to easy anthropomorphism. However, it lends itself to our pattern-seeking and story-telling instincts. “Every Little Thing” provokes visions and a sense of awe as it focuses on specific characters but also pushes toward a broader connection. The use of drone shots flying over Los Angeles reminds viewers of the vastness of the city of Los Angeles, but also of its delightful young residents who call it home or a pit stop.
The score, composed by frequent Aitken collaborator Caitlin Yu, sparkles with the promise of something magical. Repeatedly delivers on that. At the beginning of the film, Masar tells a young passenger named Wasabi that they are “safe, quite safe.” At the end of the film, Fate’s commitment and tenderness make this declaration a sacred and unquestionable covenant.