David Attenborough is a bit closer to heaven. No, not like that, he’s fine – better than fine, he’s in a hot-air balloon, above the clouds, two miles up, floating past Mont Blanc, marvelling at the power and splendour of the world. Not bad for 90.

It’s called Planet Earth II (BBC1, Sunday) and, in the decade since the first Planet Earth, it has become possible to get even closer to nature, show things in new ways, show new things. The planet itself has changed in those 10 years, too; never has it been more fragile and precious.

Islands is the theme for episode one. So to Isla Escudo de Veraguas off the coast of Panama, home (the only one) to pygmy three-toed sloths. Oh Jesus, isn’t Celebrity Island with Bear Grylls filmed around here? Imagine if the last sloth in the world was clubbed to death by Ollie from Made in Chelsea, then eaten by a bunch of washed-up reality TV stars and comedians?

It’s OK, I checked on a well-known desktop mapping service, wrong side (of Panama). Escudo is Love Island for pygmy three-toed sloths. Except for this poor chap who can’t find a mate. We follow him, slowly, of course, down from his tree and into the water, then swimming across the lagoon. And here are some of those even closer new ways of doing things, because now I’m in the lagoon too, underwater, watching the swimming lonely sloth from below, against the sunlight, in ultra-high definition. That’s just showing off, isn’t it? It is also beautiful, in a forlorn kind of way. Clawing unhurriedly at the water with 12 long, curved toenails doesn’t provide much forward thrust. You can’t hurry love … until someone invents a sloth hook-up app, claw right.

To Komodo, for dragons obviously, who like to dribble and fight. And Madagascar for lemurs, who like to move it, move it. And Zavodovski Island for lots and lots of chinstrap penguins, and Christmas Island for lots and lots and lots of crabs …

Hang on, what’s the point, again? Islands – they are microcosms; their struggles reflect the bigger, world challenges; their size affects the fate of their inhabitants; on big ones, life can evolve, on some smaller ones, certain species can thrive because of the lack of predators, is that right …

Planet Earth II and the bloodthirsty evolution of the nature documentary Read more

You know what, it doesn’t really matter if there isn’t much point, or an awful lot connecting it all together, and you don’t learn much. It’s basically saying that here’s some cool stuff that happens on islands, filmed incredibly. Top-quality wallpaper. With a bit of emotional manipulation thrown in to humanise it all. Not just the lonesome sloth, but a tragic fairy tern incubating an egg that will never hatch because it has been smashed and half-eaten by another bird. And the agony of an albatross waiting for his lady albatross to show up while all the other couples have rehooked up and are busy getting down to business. And the heroic chinstrap penguins, diving through massive waves, getting pummelled to pieces on the rocks, scaling huge cliffs, battling killer skuas, to get food to their starving babies.

It’s all beautiful, but there is nearly always one standout O-M-effing-G did-you-see? scene in these Attenborough shows. The base-jumping goslings in Life Story a while back, for example. In this, it happens on the island of Fernandina (isn’t that the one they use on Take Me Out?) A marine iguana hatchling emerges from the sand and sets off on the journey to join the adults at the edge of the sea. Oh no, this kind of journey scares me. What’s it going to be? From the side of the frame, something else appears, and keeps on appearing … snake! No likey, no lighty! Then another, and another – racer snakes, and it soon becomes apparent how they got their name. These snakes are fast, and hungry, and they want baby iguana for breakfast.

Actually, the iguana can outrun a racer, but there are others lying in wait, behind rocks, emerging from caves, dozens and dozens of them. It’s a terrifying dash with death coming in from all sides. Go, Iggy!

The first makes it, miraculously, but this one isn’t so lucky, he disappears in a mass of writhing coils. What kind of a life is that, and what’s the point? Birth, a few seconds of blind terror being chased by snakes (how do they know to run?), caught, crushed, pushed headfirst into a scaly mouth. And that’s it, game – life – over. It’s terrifying, I’m going to have nightmares. And you need to watch out for racer snakes. They are coming for you, too.