Explorer Robert Scott harbored high hopes of becoming the first person to reach Antartica's South Pole. Seeking private and public funding for the Terra Nova Expedition, Scott came up short of the monies to fully finance the exploration. He turned to photographer Herbert Ponting to bring still and moving cameras to record part of what later was called the Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration. The intention was to collate and present the trove of film once Scott accomplished his goal for the explorer to use during his fundraising lectures. Ponting recorded every highlight of the journey beginning with the expedition's departure from England in the summer of 1910.

The cameraman seemed to take pictures of everything that moved, from the Terra Nova ship slicing through the thick Antarctic ice to animals living on the icepack. He also recorded setting up the base camp as well as showing the transport of supplies throughout the route Scott and his team were going to take on their journey to the South Pole. After 14 months at Cape Evans, Ponting with eight others left in February 1912 just before Scott began his trip to the pole. He returned to England to get a jump start on the visuals when the explorer came back from his triumphant return.

Trouble was Scott was beaten to the South Pole by Norwegian Roald Amundsen and his team by 34 days. Disheartened, Scott and his men trudged back before they were caught in a blizzard and perished. Ponting's photographs and snippets of his movies were made available to the public once the tragedy was known as a financial appeal to pay the bills for the expedition. The photographer then assembled his moving images and produced a dramatic documentary of the ill-fated trip. Since no camera crew accompanied Scott to the South Pole, Ponting filled in the blanks with reenacted painted images. He released "The Great White Silence" in 1924 to a curious English audience. Personally giving his recollections, Ponting continued his lecture circuit in 1933 when he inserted sound. Despite a North American series of lectures, the documentarian died in 1935 at his home in poverty.

The British Film Institute worked along with The Scott Polar Research Institute to restore the stunning "The Great White Silence," which has since gained critical praise, including its inclusion in '1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die' reference book.

Though devoid of innate sound or narration, one can almost hear the exaggerated "old timey" radio voice that might read the intertitles during a theatrical presentation of the film, a feeling amplified by some of the language used therein. Strictly speaking the very earliest motion pictures consisted of many short non-fiction pieces as the medium began to develop, it's safe to say that 'The great white silence' is surely among the earliest examples of a long-form feature constructed with such sensibilities resembling what modern viewers would recognize as a documentary. Indeed, this film occupies a rather singular place in cinema history, and not just because filmmaker Herbert Ponting is remarked as having been the first to take such equipment to Antarctica. The restoration and especially the colorization give a sense that the feature is more recent in origin than the 1910s (when it was filmed) or the 1920s (when it was released). The interspersing of intertitles with brief clips of footage almost evokes a work of fiction, an adventure flick perhaps not unlike those of G. W. Pabst or Arnold Fanck. And still, the occasional insertion of still photographs and rudimentary animations (e.g. Tracing a path on a map), and the substantial portion devoted to fauna, concretely emphasizes the nature of the movie. With all this said, one thing is unmistakably true: though 'The great white silence' belongs squarely to the silent era, it nonetheless bears terrific value and is deeply engrossing on its own merits.

Ponting's daring for venturing thusly to the southernmost continent cannot be understated, and some of the methods he used to capture video were rather inventive so early after the advent of cinema. To that point, he illustrates a fine eye for shot composition, and some of the footage is quite brilliant, such as when he shows us how the Terra Nova burst through ice floes. This is to say nothing of the gorgeous if desolate scenery of which we're given awe-inspiring eyefuls, fantastic looks at diverse wildlife and the animals that also set sail on the ship, and documentation of the hard work of the expeditionary crew around him. And here I must emphasize again: Ponting was the first filmmaker to take moving pictures at these furthest reaches of the globe. Excepting drawings and early still photographs, the visions to greet us were like nothing else before them. That alone makes this an essential viewing experience.

As the ultimate fate of Robert F. Scott's expedition is well known in history, 'The great white silence' becomes even more important as extant testimony to what they experienced. However, Ponting's feature isn't exclusively a record of disaster, but a joyful remembrance of how the crew lived, and what they saw (only turning more direct and somber toward the end). The intertitles and sequencing are generally characterized by light humor no matter what is being spotlighted at any given moment, and on that note, what we really have is a portrait of Antarctica so the "folks at home" could get a good idea of not just the British explorers' time on the ice, but also of how the continent truly looks and feels. One might reasonably say that the movie kind of comes across as a full-length equivalent of a one- or two-reel educational short, or at times a precursor to the nature films of National Geographic, as much as a slice of history.

As with any old movie, there are parts of this that haven't aged well as a reflection of antiquated attitudes or values. Please note, for example, the shocking name given to one of the expedition's companion animals; the "game" the men play with some of the diminutive wildlife doesn't look so innocent now as it presumably had more than 100 years ago. It's also fair to argue that the picture is imbalanced, seemingly spending more time photographing penguins and seals than the expedition. Still, one must take at face value what we are given; after all, everything about 'The great white silence' very emphatically speaks to a bygone era, and the relative simplicity of its technology and techniques - what Scott and his crew were working with, and what Ponting was working with or pioneered. When all is said and done this won't appeal to all comers, least of all those who don't generally care for silent films. Yet there's much to enjoy here, and whether one is a student of history, a cinephile, a lover of nature and animals, or just especially curious about the Terra Nova expedition, 'The great white silence' remains a worthy, engaging, well-made documentary, standing surprisingly tall decades later and still deserving of recognition.