A crocodile doesn't know he has 100 days left. Neither do you, watching him eat and sleep and exist beside his friends like any other day matters. The movie doesn't turn that into tragedy or wisdom, it just lets ordinary moments be enough, the way they actually are before time runs out. Most stories would scream about mortality. This one whispers. By the end, you realize it was never about the countdown. It was about why anyone shows up at all when they know nothing lasts.
A crocodile goes about his routine existence in blissful ignorance. He doesn't know he has exactly one hundred days left to live. Around him, his animal friends carry on as they always do: eating, playing, napping in the sun, sharing quiet moments together. Nothing seems remarkable about any of it. Yet something shifts as the countdown ticks forward, invisible to everyone but the viewer. The ordinary becomes weighted with meaning. A conversation that felt like small talk gains new resonance. A lazy afternoon by the water transforms into something precious. The crocodile continues living normally, unaware his time is finite, while we watch knowing something he doesn't. This is a film about mortality wrapped in the gentlest possible package. It doesn't announce itself as profound or demand tears. Instead it sits quietly beside you and asks what makes a life worth living when you're not thinking about how little time remains. For those drawn to quiet stories about companionship and the weight of temporary things, this lands differently with each viewing.