Original subtitles

Hello there.

I'm Ryan Reynolds.

Yeah, hmm.

That Ryan Reynolds.

I'm a film actor,

occasionally I dabble in television

and other industries.

I'm also a father.

But I'm ready to move on from all of that crap.

So what's next?

Wildlife, that's what.

Nope, not these blowhards.

They don't need my help.

I'm here for these guys.

Nature's benchwarmers.

I'm talking grade-A freaks

and their freakin' bizarre, weird, freakshow lives.

Get ready for the Underdogs.

♪ I wanna be your underdog ♪

These guys are the grossest, weirdest...

♪ I'm not number one, but I'm second to none ♪

...the most unlikely stars in the great movie of life.

♪ Heroes are overrated when you are the outlaw ♪

Now it's their time to shine.

♪ Cuz I wanna be your underdog ♪

Wherever there is blatant mischief,

wherever there is abject cowardice,

wherever there is unbearable sexual tension...

...that's where you'll find the underdogs.

You tell 'em, Green Day.

♪ I'm not a loser ♪

♪ I'm not a loser ♪

♪ I wanna be your underdog ♪

I'm Ryan Reynolds.

♪ I wanna be your underdog ♪

And I endorse these weirdoes.

For animals, life is kinda like a game.

They need to gather resources and overcome obstacles

to achieve their objectives.

And this game is hard,

especially for an underdog.

So sometimes you have to play dirty to win.

And I mean disgusting.

Hang on to your lunch, kids,

because it's time to play Total Grossout.

First up, somebody who's found a "hole" new way

to protect themself from predators

on the reefs of Polynesia.

You'll get that joke in a second.

This is a pearlfish,

and right now, she has a pretty big problem.

She's almost invisible in the nighttime,

but she's stayed out past her bedtime,

and...

if a predator spots her now,

it's gonna be game over.

Mmm, yep. Like that.

That's one way to go.

Right, let's try again.

Oookay.

Pearlfish, round two.

Okay, swimming.

Swimming...

Yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Staying away from the bad guys.

No, yep, nope, nope, not that way.

Gotta find a hiding place, and fast.

Nope, nope, not there.

Now if you've played video games at all,

you know there's a boss around here somewhere.

And if you're a real gamer, you know there's two options:

run toward danger and fight,

or hide and hope it goes away.

And what do we have here?

A gigantic sea turd.

Let's pixelate that out.

Oh, no, sorry, that's-- no, that is a sea cucumber.

I'm so sorry, that's not, uh,

that is not the of a lumberjack, if I may say so.

It not only oozes deadly toxins

but it also breathes out of its butt.

Because dreams really do come true.

But when your life depends on it,

sometimes you got to get a little creative.

Is that it... yawning... with its butt?

Okay.

Okay, well, whatever it's doing,

that open portal presents the pearlfish with a solution.

Understandably, that sea cucumber

is a little unsure.

I know I would be.

But it can't clench forever.

Now is her chance.

A layer of mucus protects her from the toxins,

and...

Ohhh.

Reverse parking. Mmm.

You see, the underdogs, they know that in the game of life,

an unthinkably revolting solution can save your ass,

and an ass can save your life.

Who has access to my memoir and why is this plagiarized?

But you can't solve

all your problems

by hiding in a butthole.

Sometimes the game of life requires you

to go on the offensive.

And these filthy animals invented the term offensive.

Actually, it was the Romans,

uh, the Romans invented the word offensive and Rubicon

and scuttlebutt.

I'm sorry, what's that? No?

Anyway, this adorable little creature is a tortoise beetle.

And at first glance, she's not disgusting at all,

which is refreshing.

Clean feet.

Clean antennae.

She does not like dirt one bit.

Total neat freak.

Which is unfortunate,

as she's about to become a new mom,

and, as we all know, kids are absolutely disgusting.

All of them.

Yep, yours, too.

Yeah, and mine.

Full hazmat.

They may be just the size of a grain of rice.

I'm guessing that's short grain, not long?

But they're still big eaters.

And all that food has to go somewhere.

And that somewhere, yep,

is a couple of poop-collecting spikes

right next to their butts.

Oh, my , it just gets worse.

But notice that momma beetle,

she's not reaching for the baby wipes.

And that's because all this dried-on poop has a purpose.

Killer ants would devour her newborns

without a moment's hesitation.

And I wonder, are they available for babysitting?

Ants hunt by smell and can sniff out beetle larvae

faster than your Uncle Tim

can chug a box of chardonnay at Christmas.

Time for mom to put her disgust aside,

and reveal her tactical genius.

Like a well-drilled Roman army,

her poop-encrusted babies line up into formation.

And mom climbs aboard.

Maximus Mom-imus has a plan.

They just need to hold.

Hold!

Hooold!

Present arms!

And wave that poop!

For an ant that can't see very well,

and lives in a world of scent,

this experience must be a little unexpected.

Apparently, the world's greatest scientists

are still debating exactly how the poop waving repels the ant.

Really, they think that's a mystery?

I think my fellow parents will agree

that when it comes to chemical weapons,

a dirty diaper, well, it beats just about anything.

So, playing dirty can keep you and your offspring in the game.

But what about when the game is an epic quest?

And I don't know, what if science was real

and called it migration?

Sea cows!

Now, I know what you're thinking,

manatees aren't gross, they're adorable.

The mythical inspiration for mermaids.

But I assure you, the gross is coming.

Meet our hardworking single mom and her precious only child,

we're gonna call her Nezzy.

Except all the letters are silent,

it's pronounced.

It's winter here in Florida,

and it's very cold for manatees.

But mom has a plan,

and she's taking little Nezzy

to a very special, almost sacred place,

where the water is warm and manatees assemble once a year

like a manatee Christmas

or Coachella without all the sex, drugs and dysentery.

The problem is, it's hundreds of miles away.

And there's another thing,

Mom and Nezzy are running out of fuel.

Mom needs to make a pitstop to feed herself

and get Nezzy the milk she desperately needs

to complete the journey.

Lots of seagrass down there, so you know, what's the problem?

Well, the problem is

Mom is a bit of a...

yeah, a floater.

Gas from all her previous grassy meals

has built up in her body,

causing her to become stranded at the surface.

And if she can't feed herself or Nezzy, they'll die.

And whose fault is that, Mom?

If only nature had a way of expelling excess gas

from the body.

Oh, yeah, like a pro.

While these bubbles are something you never want to see

in a shared bath on a first date,

they're a vital part of buoyancy control for manatees.

It's like the submarine movie when Sean Connery is like,

"Dive, dive, you shtupid boys!"

but he's playing a Russian,

but he's speaking with a Scottish accent,

because, you know, movie stars, lazy.

Anyway, having lost gas and descended,

she can finally gorge herself on seagrass.

Then it's back to the surface for Nezzy to get her meal,

by latching onto a nipple in Mom's armpit.

There's nothing weird about that at all.

Accept it. Let it happen.

And then it's swim,

eat,

fart, repeat.

Like Uncle Tim on New Year's Eve.

All the way to their paradise destination.

Lovely.

But they don't care about the view.

The water from the power plant is clean and it's warm.

And winter here is like one giant, communal

bodily gas-powered jacuzzi spa from hell.

Like only Florida could deliver.

Everything a manatee mom and calf could ask for.

You kick back and relax, Nezzy.

You earned it.

Self-defense, epic quests,

let's keep this gross gameplay going

by meeting an underground underdog.

We're deep down inside a New Zealand cave.

But someone down here is about to turn on the lights.

Oooooh.

Venture down here after dark and you're gonna feel like

you've been cast as an extra in Avatar,

or you've accidentally dropped acid instead of aspirin.

So who's the creator of this dazzling array?

Ohh!

This filthy dungeon dweller is the larva

of a carnivorous fungus gnat, and she is hungry.

All this twinkly stuff is her way of luring in

the food she needs to transform into an adult.

And the key to it all is mucus.

For over 200 days, she and her friends

dribble out strings of special slime,

festooning their gnat cave

with a combination of urea, silk and water.

The episode, it's called "Total Grossout,"

you knew what you were getting into.

Then, ah, the final touch.

Using a chemical reaction in their butts...

Yup, you heard me.

...they light up their garlands like snot chandeliers...

...to create the world's most beautiful death trap.

And here comes the perfect victim.

A mayfly.

High in protein, but low in smarts.

All he sees is a beautiful night sky to navigate by.

Now comes phase two of the fungus gnat's strategy.

She slowly hauls up the still-alive mayfly

into her loving embrace.

By loving embrace, I mean that she liquefies his body

and sucks him up like a milkshake.

A few more meals like this, and she turns herself into a pupa.

Even though, rightly, it should probably be the authorities.

And 12 days later, she emerges

as a magnificent adult butterfly--

oh, no, she hatches into an adult carnivorous fungus gnat.

Gross.

Ready to carpe the heck out of that diem.

Hello, world!

Hello, sky.

Oh, hello, neighbor's death trap snot hammock.

Well, I never said she was smart. Circle of life.

Bye for now.

So an occasional act of grossness

can help you beat a level.

But some underdogs have made being filthy

their entire gameplay strategy.

This is a three-toed sloth.

He's never washed.

Ever.

And now there's an entire ecosystem

living off the dirt in his fur...

...turning him green.

But that is his secret hack.

As long as he stays in the canopy,

being green and grimy keeps him hidden from his main predator.

The harpy eagle.

But these sloths like to live dangerously...

in the slow lane.

About once a week these unsung daredevils

leave the safety of the canopy

to climb all the way down their tree,

an activity so dangerous, more than half of them die doing it.

Oh!

I think that was Uncle Alan.

See you in the next life, buddy.

Now, science may have finally figured out the mystery

of why these sloths would make a move so dangerous, so often,

an immediate "game over," and we can reveal the answers

just as soon as he gets there,

which will take... a long... time.

Come on, man.

Time is money.

Come on, let's go, brother,

every moment your life is at risk!

Sorry, this can take how long?

No, we don't have time for that.

Yes, you're right, I don't have time for that.

Yes, I'm costing you a lot of money.

Let's move on.

Some underdogs are so deeply into grossout tactics,

they actually find it a turn-on.

But I'm not telling you anything more,

because you're probably not even a real therapist.

This is Ireland.

And this is Craig, a male red deer

hoping to mate for the first time.

He's just got one problem.

Mating season is a little... fighty.

Males beat the crap out of one another

in a predictably macho attempt to impress the ladies.

You dumb buck.

And no one is worse than this guy.

Craig's arch rival, the dominant male.

But some of the ladies,

they can sniff out an insecure alpha a mile away.

This is Jane Doe.

A deer, a female deer.

I'm so sorry. I had to do it.

And to use local parlance,

she thinks the dom is a lazy, beef-witted stick.

But Craig, he's not like those other bucks.

He's a nice guy.

He's, all he's gotta do is get Jane to notice him.

The trouble is, when it comes to strategies

for impressing Jane that don't involve fighting,

most of the guys have no idea.

I'm so sorry. Won't happen again.

And some of them just aren't into Jane in the first place.

But Craig knows there is one other thing a male deer can do

to impress a female.

He waits until just the right moment, and...

Sweet Michael Fassbender, now that is a move!

Oh, Craig, you crazy.

I think I want to have your baby.

Craig is spraying himself in a mixture of pee and semen

on purpose.

As cologne goes, well, that's a bold choice.

But thanks to all those sweet-smelling pheromones,

Jane loves it.

And while the dom is busy fighting,

she sneaks off for a round with fragrant Craig.

Avert your eyes.

This isn't for you.

This is just for me.

Oh, okay, that was fast.

Way to level up, Craig.

I guess beauty really is in the eye of the beholder,

or in this case, the nose.

And if you think that was gross,

hold onto your hippos,

because it's time for a full-on assault.

Ass-sault.

Ass... sault.

This is...

Yep, ooh, okay, I'm gonna just call him Po.

After a hard day patrolling the riverbank,

he's heading back to his wallow,

to the somewhat awkward company of his many exes.

And his various kids.

Oops, mind the little one.

But Po's peaceful home life

is about to get turned upside down.

Upriver, water holes are drying up.

Space is running out.

Rival males are starting battles

over access to deep water.

And when two of the most dangerous animals on the planet

go head to head,

outcomes can be...

decisive.

Now, one of the most murder-y

of all these roly-poly anger bags

is heading in Po's direction looking for a spot to steal.

Even if it means killing Po and stealing his family.

But Po's, well, he's not doing anything.

Po, did you hear me?

He's a maniac.

He's gonna steal your home, you could lose your family.

It's, it's time to do something.

But Po isn't crazy enough

to take this intruder on face-to-face.

Not when he's got a special ability in his skillset.

♪ You better run for your life ♪

♪ You are not prepared for tonight ♪

♪ You better run for your life ♪

♪ You are not prepared for tonight ♪

The family knows what's coming.

♪ You don't have a chance in sight ♪

♪ You better run for your life ♪

And they do not want to be collateral.

♪ I ain't trynna bring you down ♪

♪ But for real, you might as well give up now ♪

♪ Think you got a chance but I don't see how ♪

♪ Got a real tight grip when I hold that crown ♪

♪ Came here ready to fight ♪

♪ On this night you better just... ♪

♪ Run for your life ♪

♪ Aaaaaaah ♪

Po's special move is to spray his rival

with his own fffffeces.

Yes, there it is.

There are those who tastefully call this defense

a defecation fan.

And note the oscillation, the skill, the poise.

But I know a poop-nado when I see one.

The bad guy can't get out of there fast enough.

That's one way to defeat the big bad boss of this level.

Leaving Po and his family safe.

♪ Run for your life ♪

♪ Run for your ♪

And while we're on the topic of winning,

looks like Mr. Persistence here

has finally reached the bottom of the tree.

But will never reach the Olympics.

But why spend an eternity

descending into dangerous territory?

It's so he can download his weekly poop at ground level.

Yes, he could have dropped it out of a tree

like a jungle meteorite--

I would have--

but he risked danger for the sake of these guys.

The roughly 120 moths living on his disgusting body

are the key to his lifesaving camouflage.

But they can only lay their eggs down here,

in his excrement.

Some sloth poopologists think that by holding it in

until he reaches the bottom of the tree,

the sloth helps breed camouflaging moths,

which keep him green by pooping in his fur,

so he can poop more safely,

and then they can lay babies in the poop, and he can poop,

and they can poop, and so on for the rest of time.

Now all he has to do is climb back up.

Good luck!

The world's underdogs have grossout moves for overcoming

just about every problem life can throw at them.

So just how gross do you have to be to succeed

in the most challenging level of all?

A massive multi-character arena-based death match.

Or as it's known in the animal kingdom,

the African savanna.

Chock-full of swaggering bigshot bosses

like these showboats.

The trick is, like prison, on the first day,

you gotta shank the biggest guy you see.

You got to establish dominance.

So when they're taking all the best loot for themselves,

the underdogs have to win the game another way.

By getting over their gag reflex

and going for the stuff nobody else wants.

In this case, a tasty smorgasbord

of offal, intestines, and bones,

seasoned with a pinch of anthrax, a dash of botulism,

and cholera to taste.

It's like nature's gas station sushi

but less biochemical weapon-y.

Not my idea of lunch, but then I'm not one of these guys.

Meet username VisceraVoyager23.

Because NoobMaster69 had some rights issues.

Vultures aren't big on hunting or fighting,

but when it comes to happily devouring the contents

of a rancid, fly-infested boneyard,

they are the pro gamers.

To keep this metaphor going, their stats are impressive.

They can fly up to 35,000 feet, cover 200 miles a day

and spot a three-foot carcass from four miles away.

And when VV23 drops in...

...she squads up with a whole party of sidekicks,

each with a special skillset more disgusting than the last.

VisceraVoyager is what scientists call a ripper,

or what Australians call a rippah.

Great at breaking down the tough stuff.

While her buddy GoreReaper is a gulper

with a head specially suited to getting the good stuff

out of all those hard-to-reach places.

♪ Because we are your friends ♪

♪ You'll never be alone again ♪

♪ Well, come on ♪

And Player 3, Insert Name, is what's known as a scrapper.

♪ Because we are your friends ♪

And he's going in for just a little slice.

♪ Well, come on ♪

And finally, there's butt guy.

Not exactly an attribute, more of a personal preference.

You go get him, butt guy.

When it comes to mining a putrefying carcass...

...everyone can play a part.

The end of the day,

vultures are team players in the game of life.

♪ Because we are your friends ♪

♪ You'll never be alone again ♪

♪ Well, come on ♪

♪ Well, come on ♪

♪ Well, come on ♪

♪ Well, come on ♪

Not only would the world be knee-deep

in dead bodies without them,

their super-strong stomach acid digests away all the toxins,

all the bacteria, that if left unchecked,

would leave other animals terribly sick,

or crapping through the eye of a needle.

Literally, and some might even say heroically,

saving their lives.

So thanks to the vultures, the world is kept clean of disease,

pestilence, and well, whatever it is that guy's eating.

And Mother Nature, and all her charges, can keep on playing.

What's that? Thank you?

You're welcome, Mr. Buffalo.

Well, there you have it, the underdogs' secret to winning

the game of life simply by being their disgusting selves.

So bring on the poop, bring on the butt-burp buoyancy aids,

the defecation fans, show me the snot hammocks,

shower me in semen-scented cologne,

install me a butthole saferoom.

Okay, even I've hit my own grossout limit,

so let's just, we're gonna shut it down.