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By Björn Vaughn, Cinematographer

Here’s a question for you: how do you film a large, dominant, and allegedly aggressive male orangutan in thick, murky peat swamp forest, where humans get tangled and bogged down, and visibility is obstructed by thousands of leaves, vines, and twigs, all whilst using a huge telephoto lens mounted on a heavy camera and tripod?

A telephoto lens requires considerable distance between the lens and its subject to achieve focus. Where do you find such space in the dense undergrowth? The bouncy peat floor makes it nearly impossible to secure a tripod and capture a stable, shake-free image. During our time in the forests of central Kalimantan, Indonesia, we concluded it would be easier to film a macro sequence about insects on a trampoline.

Over three months, our production team, supported by resident scientists and trackers from Tuanan Orangutan Research Programme and the conservation department BKSDA, successfully filmed beautiful footage of orangutans in the wild. Our focus was largely on an adult female, (named Mawas by researchers), who had lost her previous baby, and was embarking on a search for a male to mate with. As told in the film, she eventually pairs up with a beta male, and forms a close bond with her newborn, who at just over a week old, was probably the youngest wild orangutan ever filmed for the ´óÏó´«Ã½ Studios Natural History Unit.

However, one crucial figure remained elusive: a dominant male with a notorious reputation. Named Gizmo by researchers, this individual had an unusual trait - he would spend significant amounts of time on the ground, covering large distances on foot. This behaviour is rarely seen among wild orangutans, who typically stay in the trees to avoid predators and other dangers, such as snakes and humans.

In addition, Gizmo was considered unusually aggressive. But aggressive towards whom? Other orangutans? Humans? And why? Our producer, Patrick Evans, was eager for us, his local crew, to find out.

Gizmo’s mysterious behaviour, however, had proven difficult to capture clearly. Whether it was due to poor visibility, or his tendency to vanish into the understory, Gizmo always had the upper hand. The little footage we had managed to capture was great, but we wanted more of it.

We decided to give it one more push. As the production crew stood by with the heavy gear, two search parties headed into the forest. Tracker Yayan and I made our way back to a spot where we had previously filmed Mawas, gazing longingly at the fearless Gizmo, eating, completely oblivious to her, on the ground.

To our surprise, we soon heard a long call and hurried on. One and a half kilometres into the forest, there was Gizmo perched on a large vine. This was our last chance to film him. Yayan ran to camp to fetch the crew while I remained with Gizmo, unencumbered by heavy gear. Light-footed, I’d be able to get out of his way if necessary.

As I marvelled at this stunning creature, he suddenly came crashing down through the trees, furiously breaking branches on his rapid descent. Two metres above the ground, he came to a stop on a tree trunk, blocking the path in an angry stance.

No other orangutan in this forest behaved this way. What triggered his temper so easily? Panicked, and looking for clues, I noticed a pile of fermenting buah pakan beneath me. Having filmed Gizmo in this very spot before, we were told buah pakan was his favourite treat in the forest – and I was standing right on it!

Apologetically, I backed off. That’s when I saw his stance relax. His hair flattened and he turned his back to me. Gizmo dropped from his branch, scanned the ground for fallen fruit, and walked into the bush. Glancing back at me over his shoulder, he appeared to be perfectly calm. He wasn’t going to attack me without reason.

When the crew arrived, we set up further along the path to get an unobstructed shot. Taking deep breaths to calm my nerves, we waited peacefully in the late afternoon sun. Then, without warning, Gizmo moved. Doubtless, he would head for the fruit pile where I had been standing. To my horror, though, he emerged right in front of the camera. Time seemed to slow as my mind analysed every past encounter with Gizmo to decide whether to retreat or stay put.

At this point, leaping back with the heavy equipment would have distressed Gizmo and endangered all of us. Fellow cinematographer Abinara remembers, “I felt paralyzed. I was afraid one of us might make a sudden move. We avoided eye contact.” Camera assistant Romi recalls, “I was sure he was going to attack, and my only thought was, ‘What are we going to do?’”

On the brink of fight or flight, I concluded that every previous interaction with Gizmo had gone wrong because we’d been at fault. I had stepped all over his food. We had irritated him by intruding on his space. But this time was different: Gizmo chose to come into our space. We would be okay.

My only option now was to let things play out. Gizmo entered the frame, paused, and faced us. I held my breath. Gizmo glanced at the ground, picked up a piece of fruit and nibbled on it. My palms were sweating. He dropped the fruit. He turned his head and looked to the right. The moment didn’t seem to want to end. Anything could still happen. He could easily charge and smash the camera. But after gazing into the distance for a moment, he moved on.

That day, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning and somehow survived. The experience is hard to describe in words. I believe we didn’t meet a monster of the undergrowth, but a noble king of the forest – Gizmo, who showed us mercy.

We may never fully understand Gizmo’s unusual behaviour on the ground or why he shows more aggression than other orangutans. Large males endure gruelling battles throughout their lives. With humans continually encroaching on orangutan habitats, perhaps Gizmo was traumatized. Maybe the slightly alcoholic fruits altered his outlook on life. Or maybe he’s just different. We have our theories. I think he’s misunderstood.

It wasn’t till after the shoot that one of the scientists, Erin, casually remarked, “Gizmo? He’ll scare you, but he’ll never attack.”

Thanks for the heads up!