I kept thinking of Stanislaw Lem for some reason: "We have no need of other worlds, our own suffices us." Totally out of context, maybe, but this series' singular ability to jump-start imaginations and imbue almost everyone with a sense of wonder, discovery and joy is vital. Sucks you in effortlessly (and not just when you're zipped).
The material and cinematography is great. But the fact that it's presented as an overdramatized ad on nature and the wildlife is reduced into series of stories with happy or sentimental tragic ends kills it for me.
Manufactured like a pack of trojans and narrated by some British asshat who rubs his nipples over the sound of his own voice, this snooze-inducing, artificial insemination of a “documentary” shows not the earth as is but instead patronizes nature as a commodity to awe the effortlessly amused fleshling (in between ecstatic rounds of academic jargoning, social-climbing and mind paralysis over techno-toys of course).