The Penguin Lessons takes inspiration from Tom Michell’s memoir of the same name to tell the remarkable story of a disillusioned Englishman who rescues an oil-slicked penguin and gains an unlikely feathered friend. Set against the political turmoil of 1976 Argentina, Tom (Steve Coogan) arrives in Buenos Aires to teach at a prestigious boarding school. Through his unexpected connection with the scruffy, adamant penguin Juan Salvador (literally ‘savior’), Tom must learn to contend with himself and the world around him.
Filling the dramedy with heart, humor, and historical depth, director Peter Cattaneo (The Full Monty and Military Wives) made a deliberate choice with his team to incorporate elements of Argentine history, counterbalancing the personal narrative at the forefront. The presence of the penguin—played by real penguins Baba and Richard—brought an unpredictable charm to the set. Coogan and the other actors spent important bonding time with the disarming animals before filming, creating a bond that allowed the filmmakers to capture endearing moments for the screen.
As The Penguin Lessons arrives in theaters from Sony Pictures Classics, Boxoffice Pro spoke with actor Steve Coogan and director Peter Cattaneo about fusing an uplifting internal journey with the harsh realities of an external conflict. In the distraction-free environment of a theater, the film serves as an invitation for audiences to discover the power of listening.
Peter, there’s a delicate balance between what’s happening inside and outside the school’s walls. It’s a film that doesn’t feel too heavy or too saccharine, yet you leave the theater feeling better about life having seen it. How did you find that balance?
Peter Cattaneo: I’m glad that’s how you found the experience of watching the movie, because I suppose one doesn’t go in with a kind of agenda [when] making a movie. I tend to make movies just trying to use my gut for what my taste is and what I would want to see if I was in a theater watching the movie. It was what we talked about all the time, finding the right tone—the balance between comedy and drama. Showing the history and being honest about the history, but not trying to get sucked into it and make a movie that is entirely about the disappeared and The Dirty War.
[We wanted to] be courageous; you can have a film with a penguin, with humor, and still respect the history of Argentina. A lot of that comes in the writing and in the edit of making those transitions from the different elements of the story. I actually found that, in the end, the penguin’s and Tom’s internal journeys are the spine of the movie, and the other stuff all happens around that.
Steve, you have a knack for finding the most remarkable true stories and bringing them to the screen. I heard that before you joined this project, you’d made a trip to Argentina and became fascinated with the world and culture?
Steve Coogan: It was a sort of strange serendipity, I suppose. Jeff [Pope], the screenwriter, was working on the screenplay and was in communication with Peter, and he’d spoken to me about it. I happened to be going to see a friend in Buenos Aires. So I took the time to explore and look at its recent history, especially the history that I knew was pertinent to the movie, which I was flirting with. Having learned about this tumultuous period, the dictatorship that happened in the second half of the 1970s, I spoke to Jeff about that, and Peter himself also brought it up—that it felt like it would be a derogation of duty not to talk about that in some way.
The potential pitfalls of the movie were also its potential strengths, which is that it seems like two different movies. Can you marry them? Can you make that work tonally? That, to me, made it far more interesting. I wouldn’t be interested in making a portentous, heavy, serious lecture about human rights—however important they are. And neither did I want to make a fluffy animal film. What was interesting about this was this strange way that one counterbalanced the other. The penguin acts as a kind of symbol against cynicism. It’s very hard to look at a penguin and be cynical about them.
As there was a safe way to bring the story to life without CGI, the connection is so much more tangible. What was the process of penguin familiarization like? What does it teach you about penguin behavior?
Steve Coogan: I wasn’t sure about it; I was a little anxious. But, as a matter of fact, it’s about becoming comfortable with the penguin and making the penguin comfortable with you. There’s more than one penguin, and [it’s about] literally becoming familiar with them. So there’s no mystery in that, and you learn that, basically, if you treat them well, they’ll behave pretty well too. It’s a two-way process. A quid pro quo. The penguins didn’t always do what you wanted, but if they were happy, they’d usually be quite agreeable.
I’d meet them in the morning. I’d talk to them so they got familiar with my voice, stroke them, pet them, and pick them up so that they got used to it. Towards the end of the process, I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to miss them.’ We had American Humane [Society] on set, of course, at all times. We also, by the way, had a robot penguin that we used in a couple of scenes where it wouldn’t have been appropriate to use a real penguin, but 85 to 90 percent [was a real animal.]
Peter Cattaneo: Like, for example, when it’s covered in oil on the beach. You can’t put crude oil on the beach, thank God. It was an organic, biodegradable fake oil and a robotic remote-controlled penguin. It didn’t need to do much, just move its head and open its beak. That was a brilliant bit of engineering, but it’s helped by the fact it’s covered in oil. I’m giving it all away now—spoilers.
Steve Coogan: The point is that it was as ethical as you can be when it comes to working with real animals.
Steve, how did improvisation benefit you in moments where your penguin acting partner gave you something unexpected?
Steve Coogan: It’s very interesting, because the stillness of a penguin is like Charles Grodin in Midnight Run. The penguin is like a straight man that gets the bigger laughs because he doesn’t do anything. Bob Newhart—that’s what the penguin is like. Bob Newhart used to have a stillness where he did almost nothing with his face, and it would be hilarious.
Peter Cattaneo: I’ve learned that from shooting comedy over the years. Back in the day when we used to do it on film, there’d be a group of people around the table, and I’d just roll on someone who’s got one line of dialogue for a five-minute scene, because they’re looking around. The producer is like, “You’re burning all this film on a guy who’s got one line. Just shoot the line.” I’m like, “No, he’s got great reaction skills.” You just cut to him, and it gives the audience a way in. It’s like they’re then inside the story looking at this. Suddenly you get the laugh on the reaction far more than you get the laugh on a joke.
Steve Coogan: Exactly. The point that Peter’s making is that the penguin seems to embody all those qualities. Scene stealing by doing almost nothing.
Peter, when faced with limited time and resources, how do you create an environment of patience to find those magic moments?
Peter Cattaneo: We had fantastic animal handlers. They were our guide, really, of what was decent to do, what would work, what wouldn’t work. Steve led from the top with the cast by being very patient and often re-running scenes or looping a key line. Thank God for digital and that we’re no longer on film, because we’d [have] burnt through the footage.
When you get the penguin to do something, like react or nod, Steve would just keep doing the line until suddenly the penguin would do it of its own free accord. He just stayed in character, and when he would get to the end of the scene, the whole crew would be like, “Yes!” because the penguin had done it. It’s just a little bit of trusting luck in the end, taking the guide of the handlers, and being very patient. It kind of takes the pressure off everybody, because it’s not about them anymore. It’s just about this very quiet atmosphere on set and being patient.
And about listening. We all want to be heard, and there’s a great lesson in the film about the importance of listening.
Steve Coogan: Absolutely, I think we sort of happened on that. Jeff talks about the idea of the inscrutability of a penguin—it doesn’t smile, it doesn’t frown, it doesn’t seem to judge, and it can’t speak. Sometimes, when people want to talk to someone, they often don’t want a solution. They just want to be heard. There’s a lesson in that for us all. We all have our opinions. Social media now means that everyone has an opinion, everyone has a platform, and everyone likes to do a lot of talking, but there’s not a great deal of listening going on in the world at the moment, so there’s something to be drawn from that.
It’s the kind of story to see distraction-free on the big screen with an audience. What have your experiences with audiences been like so far?
Peter Cattaneo: The first public screening was the Toronto Film Festival, which was really great. There was a very big crowd, and it was a thrill. I sat with Jeff Pope, the screenwriter. It’s not a film with joke-jokes in it, but there are moments that are meant to be funny. You’re kind of like, ‘Are they going to laugh?’ They did laugh, but then you heard all the snuffles as well.
The thing I love when I see a movie, and I’m watching the scene and thinking, ‘Oh, don’t cry. Come on, you’re going to cry. You’re going to cry; don’t cry.’ And then you’re given the opportunity by the filmmakers to laugh instead, to break it. And you’re like, ‘Thank you so much.’ I feel like we’ve hit that sweet spot in a few moments in the film, which is really gratifying.
Do you have any foundational memories of going to the cinema?
Peter Cattaneo: The original Snow White was the first film I ever saw. Terrified. I was terrified of the witch. That was my first cinema moment.
Steve Coogan: I went to see Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, about the flying car. That’s seared on my memory: this magical story that transports you somewhere else. Growing up in the rainy, overcast North of England, that magic box of the cinema was a way into another world.
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