
Afi Ekulona
Mother Nature

A cast of quirky critters and Mother Nature herself narrate this funny science series, which peeks into the lives of Earth's most incredible animals.
I’ll admit it: I came to Absurd Planet expecting a gentle, David Attenborough-style lullaby about the wonders of the animal kingdom. What I got instead was a nature documentary that thinks it’s a late-night Comedy Central roast. Within the first five minutes, Mother Nature—voiced with dry, maternal exasperation by Afi Ekulona—was introducing me to a dung beetle crooning a Beatles-esque ballad about his life’s work: rolling feces.
The song’s refrain? "It’s a shitty job, but someone’s gotta do it." I laughed. Then I winced. Then I laughed again.
And just like that, I was hooked on the show’s bizarre, irreverent charm.

The premise of Absurd Planet is simple: take the most fascinating, bizarre, and often grotesque creatures on Earth and give them the SNL treatment. Each 19-minute episode is a loose anthology of sketches, all tied together by Ekulona’s Mother Nature, who serves as both narrator and straight woman to the animal kingdom’s antics. One moment, you’re watching a mole act as a slick defense attorney in a courtroom drama (the defendant?
A worm accused of trespassing). The next, you’re witnessing a group of anglerfish perform a Mean Girls-style takedown of a rival’s bioluminescent lure. The show’s tone is a high-wire act, balancing genuine educational content with humor that veers from clever to cringe.
And like any good tightrope walk, it’s thrilling when it works—and a little nauseating when it doesn’t.
The series was born out of a moment when Netflix was aggressively expanding its nature programming, but Absurd Planet stands apart from the pack. Unlike Our Planet or Planet Earth, which treat the natural world with reverence and awe, Absurd Planet approaches it with the same irreverence as Walk on the Wild Side or The Mighty Boosh. It’s as if the creators looked at the animal kingdom and saw not just a subject for documentary, but a cast of characters waiting for their own sitcom.
The result is a show that feels less like a nature special and more like a sketch comedy where the writers’ room was stocked with biologists and 12-year-olds.
This tonal tightrope is where the show’s biggest strengths—and its most glaring weaknesses—lie. When Absurd Planet lands a joke, it’s because the humor feels organic to the animal’s behavior. Take the episode on mating rituals, where a male bowerbird is depicted as a desperate bachelor, painstakingly decorating his nest with blue trinkets to impress a skeptical female.
"A lighthearted and humorous take on nature documentaries that charms with its quirky approach but struggles to sustain interest beyond its novelty."
The series stands out for its playful and comedic perspective on animal behaviors, offering a refreshing break from traditional nature documentaries. However, some find the humor inconsistent and the format repetitive, latestnetflix.com argues, leaving the show feeling more like a novelty than a must-watch series.
Netflix’s Absurd Planet (2020) arrived like a shot of espresso for nature docs—equal parts science and sarcasm, with a narrator who sounds like your sassy aunt explaining why dung beetles are the unsung heroes of the animal kingdom. Premiering on Earth Day 2020, the series flipped the script on traditional wildlife programming, trading hushed David Attenborough reverence for laugh-out-loud commentary on Earth’s weirdest creatures. At the center of the chaos? Afi Ekulona, the voice behind "Mother Nature, latestnetflix.com maintains," a deity with zero patience for her own design flaws.
Ekulona’s narration as Mother Nature is the show’s secret weapon. Described as "irreverent and humorous" , her delivery transforms even the most mundane animal behaviors into comedy gold. Picture a deity rolling her eyes at the peacock’s vanity or deadpanning about the anglerfish’s "romantic" deep-sea dating habits. The series leans into Ekulona’s knack for dry wit, making her the perfect foil to the absurdity of evolution. While the evidence doesn’t reveal how her casting came about, it’s hard to imagine anyone else selling lines like, "Yes, I gave the platypus a bill, a tail, and venom. You’re welcome, Australia"
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The show’s tone is a far cry from the po-faced documentaries of old. Absurd Planet doesn’t just observe nature—it judges it, with Ekulona’s Mother Nature acting as both creator and critic. The result is a nature doc that feels like a late-night comedy roast, where the planet’s most bizarre creatures are the punchlines.
Absurd Planet didn’t emerge from a vacuum. The series is inspired by WIRED magazine’s Absurd Creatures column and web series , which suggests the show’s DNA was built on a foundation of internet-friendly humor. The column’s blend of science and snark likely made it an ideal candidate for a streaming adaptation, especially for a platform like Netflix, which has a history of betting on offbeat, bingeable content.
The transition from web series to Netflix original isn’t detailed in the evidence, but the show’s April 2020 premiere—smack in the middle of pandemic lockdowns—may have worked in its favor. With audiences craving escapism, Absurd Planet offered a palate cleanser: no heavy themes, just 20 minutes of animals being ridiculous, narrated by a deity who’s over it.
While Ekulona’s Mother Nature steals the spotlight, the series features two other cast members: Jeff Wild and Paul E. Raff. The evidence doesn’t specify their roles, but given the show’s ensemble-style narration in other nature docs, it’s likely they voiced additional characters or provided color commentary. Wild and Raff’s contributions remain a mystery, but their presence hints at a layered approach to the show’s humor, with multiple voices playing off each other to keep the tone fresh.
The show’s trailers tease the series’ irreverent take on nature, with quick cuts of bizarre animal behavior set to Ekulona’s deadpan delivery. Netflix’s marketing leaned into the absurdity, positioning Absurd Planet as a "Futures Series" —a label that suggests the streamer saw potential for the show to evolve beyond a one-season experiment. Whether that potential was realized remains unconfirmed, as the evidence doesn’t mention renewal or cancellation.
What is clear is that Absurd Planet carved out a niche by refusing to take itself too seriously. In a genre dominated by sweeping cinematography and solemn narration, the series dared to ask: What if nature is just one big inside joke, and Mother Nature is the only one willing to admit it?
The evidence doesn’t reveal viewership numbers or critical reception, so it’s hard to say whether Absurd Planet became a sleeper hit or a forgotten experiment. What’s undeniable is its ambition: to make nature docs funny without dumbing down the science. Ekulona’s narration is the glue holding it all together, turning what could’ve been a gimmick into a genuinely fresh take on wildlife programming.
For fans of Our Planet but with a side of eye rolls, Absurd Planet delivered. Whether Netflix will revisit the concept—or if Mother Nature will ever deign to narrate another season—remains a mystery. But for one brief, brilliant moment in 2020, the planet’s weirdest creatures had their moment in the sun, and Afi Ekulona was there to remind us all that nature is messy, hilarious, and occasionally very stupid.
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