Hollywood’s Last Chimps

One rainy morning at Chicago’s Lincoln Park Zoo, children were raising a ruckus at the chimpanzee exhibit. The apes themselves were placid, ignoring their audience as they foraged for leaves and swayed in hammocks.

But out of public view was another group of chimps who were far less sanguine about strangers. And when they spotted two unfamiliar visitors, they rushed over to the edge of their enclosure. Eli, a gentle young male, approached with his hair standing on end. Then Susie, a small but strong-willed female, spotted a photographer and began to shriek.

“She might be upset at the cameras,” says Jill Moyse, the curator of primates.

Eli and Susie had spent much of their young lives in front of the lens. Before arriving at the zoo in 2020, the pair had worked in Hollywood, racking up a long list of credits, including a One Direction music video, the TBS show Angie Tribeca, and some commercials.

One rainy morning at Chicago’s Lincoln Park Zoo, children were hooting and yelling at the chimpanzee exhibit. The apes themselves were calm. They ignored their audience as they foraged for leaves and swayed in hammocks.

But out of public view was another group of chimps who were far less accepting of strangers. They rushed over to the edge of their enclosure when they spotted two unfamiliar visitors. Eli, a gentle young male, approached with his hair standing on end. Then Susie, a small but strong-willed female, spotted a photographer and began to shriek.

“She might be upset at the cameras,” said Jill Moyse, the curator of primates.

Eli and Susie had spent much of their young lives in front of the lens. Before arriving at the zoo in 2020, the pair had worked in Hollywood. They had a long list of credits, including a One Direction music video, the TBS show Angie Tribeca, and some commercials.

Captive chimpanzees weren’t protected by the Endangered Species Act until 2015, and even now, there’s no blanket federal prohibition on private citizens owning chimps or raising them as pets or performers. The practice can end in tragedy, as the recent HBO docuseries Chimp Crazy makes clear: The series depicts chimpanzees, who are highly intelligent and social creatures, living in small cages and acting like the wild animals they are, sometimes gravely injuring people.

For years, primatologists and animal welfare groups have been trying to end the private ownership of chimpanzees. They have managed to move many former pets and performers to sanctuaries, and their efforts helped make Eli the last great ape to work in Hollywood. But nearly 80 chimps remain in private hands, according to Project ChimpCARE, a Lincoln Park Zoo initiative to keep tabs on the nation’s chimpanzees.

And many former pets and performers still have long lives ahead of them, with pasts that could prove difficult to shed.

“The effects are so long-term,” says Maureen Leahy, vice president for animal care and horticulture at the Lincoln Park Zoo. “We’ve worked four years now with Eli and Susie to have them become chimpanzees again.”

Until 2015, captive chimpanzees weren’t protected by the Endangered Species Act. There is still no blanket federal prohibition on private citizens owning chimps or raising them as pets or performers. The recent HBO docuseries Chimp Crazy shows how this practice can end in tragedy. The series depicts chimpanzees, who are highly intelligent and social creatures, living in small cages and acting like the wild animals they are. Sometimes they end up gravely injuring people.

For years, primatologists and animal welfare groups have been trying to end the private ownership of chimpanzees. They have managed to move many former pets and performers to sanctuaries. Their efforts also helped make Eli the last great ape to work in Hollywood. But nearly 80 chimps remain in private hands, according to Project ChimpCARE, a Lincoln Park Zoo initiative to keep tabs on the nation’s chimpanzees.

And many former pets and performers still have long lives ahead of them, but their pasts have proven difficult to leave behind.

“The effects are so long-term,” says Maureen Leahy, vice president for animal care and horticulture at the Lincoln Park Zoo. “We’ve worked four years now with Eli and Susie to have them become chimpanzees again.”

Much remains unknown about Eli’s and Susie’s early years, but both were born at the Missouri Primate Foundation, the breeding facility featured in Chimp Crazy. In 2017, the animal rights group People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) sued the primate center; the lawsuit ultimately resulted in the closure of the center and the transfer of its chimpanzees to an accredited sanctuary.

Even well-meaning private owners simply can’t give chimpanzees what they need, experts say.

“All of the scientific research that’s been done agrees that the most important thing to good quality of life for a chimpanzee is other chimpanzees,” says Katherine Cronin, a primatologist and the director of the animal welfare science program at the Lincoln Park Zoo.

Rehabilitating chimps like Eli and Susie means helping them find their place among other apes. In the wild, chimps live in large social groups and remain reliant on their mothers for years. Commercial breeders typically separate infants from their mothers after birth.

“[Chimps] quickly become very strong, very unpredictable, and people realize that they’re out of their depth,” says Kate Dylewsky, assistant director of government affairs at the Animal Welfare Institute. “Owners will often then keep these primates in cages full-time or force them to undergo unnecessary procedures like tooth extraction.”

Much remains unknown about Eli’s and Susie’s early years. They were both born at the Missouri Primate Foundation, the breeding facility featured in Chimp Crazy. In 2017, the animal rights group People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) sued the primate center. The lawsuit ultimately resulted in the closure of the center and the transfer of its chimpanzees to an accredited sanctuary.

Experts say even well-meaning private owners simply can’t give chimpanzees what they need.

“All of the scientific research that’s been done agrees that the most important thing to good quality of life for a chimpanzee is other chimpanzees,” says Katherine Cronin, a primatologist and the director of the animal welfare science program at the Lincoln Park Zoo.

Rehabilitating chimps like Eli and Susie means helping them find their place among other apes. In the wild, chimps live in large social groups. They remain reliant on their mothers for years. Commercial breeders typically separate infants from their mothers soon after birth.

“[Chimps] quickly become very strong, very unpredictable, and people realize that they’re out of their depth,” says Kate Dylewsky, assistant director of government affairs at the Animal Welfare Institute. “Owners will often then keep these primates in cages full-time or force them to undergo unnecessary procedures like tooth extraction.”

Eli and Susie eventually landed at a company that trained animals for the entertainment industry. By 2018, 12-year-old Susie was retired and 9-year-old Eli was beginning to assert his independence, says Tanner Kling, a director and producer who’s making a docuseries about Eli called The Last Chimpanzee.

Eli would do what his trainers asked “but not without a lot of hooting and hollering and jumping around,” says Kling. Safety became a major concern.

In late 2018, Eli and Susie were sent to an unaccredited wildlife sanctuary, where conditions were spartan, says Moyse. Before the pair had time to settle in, the facility abruptly closed, leaving Eli and Susie—and 40 other chimps—without a place to live. Project ChimpCARE worked to find new homes for all the chimps, ultimately bringing Eli and Susie to the Lincoln Park Zoo.

Eli and Susie eventually landed at a company that trained animals for the entertainment industry. By 2018, 12-year-old Susie was retired and 9-year-old Eli was beginning to assert his independence, says Tanner Kling, a director and producer. He is making a docuseries about Eli called The Last Chimpanzee.

Eli would do what his trainers asked “but not without a lot of hooting and hollering and jumping around,” says Kling. Safety became a major concern.

In late 2018, Eli and Susie were sent to an unaccredited wildlife sanctuary, where conditions were spartan, says Moyse. Before the pair had time to settle in, the facility abruptly closed. The closure left Eli and Susie—and 40 other chimps—without a place to live. Project ChimpCARE worked to find new homes for all the chimps, ultimately bringing Eli and Susie to the Lincoln Park Zoo.

At first, Eli and Susie struggled to feed themselves. Eli would hug his bedding to his body and rock back and forth, sometimes while screaming. When he became especially upset, he slapped himself.

The zoo knew that Eli and Susie needed some chimpanzee companionship. They introduced the pair to Magadi, a middle-aged female, and Patrick and Zachary, who had spent years at a roadside zoo. The five chimps became known as “Eli’s troop.”

Chimps are just a tiny fraction of a booming trade in nonhuman primates, experts say. Smaller primates, like capuchins, are still used in Hollywood, and a variety of monkeys are available for purchase online. The Animal Welfare Institute, PETA, the Association of Zoos and Aquariums, and other groups have endorsed the proposed bipartisan Captive Primate Safety Act, which would ban the possession of pet primates nationwide.

Eli’s troop has made real progress. Eli has started grooming Zachary, an important bonding behavior, and has stopped hitting himself. His rocking is less frequent, although it hasn’t disappeared. Susie has connected with Patrick and Magadi, and seems to have assumed a leadership role in the troop.

On that rainy morning, after inspecting his human visitors, Eli tucked himself into a small corner alcove, staying mostly out of sight.

“He’s making the choice to kind of take himself off of view,” Moyse said. “He did not have the choice before. . . . And so that is the beauty of it. He can do whatever he wants.”

At first, Eli and Susie struggled to feed themselves. Eli would hug his bedding to his body and rock back and forth, sometimes while screaming. He slapped himself when he became upset.

The zoo knew that Eli and Susie needed some chimpanzee companionship. They introduced the pair to Magadi, a middle-aged female, and Patrick and Zachary, who had spent years at a roadside zoo. The five chimps became known as “Eli’s troop.”

Chimps are just a tiny fraction of a booming trade in nonhuman primates, experts say. Smaller primates, like capuchins, are still used in Hollywood. A variety of monkeys are available for purchase online. The Animal Welfare Institute, PETA, the Association of Zoos and Aquariums, and other groups have endorsed the proposed bipartisan Captive Primate Safety Act. The law would ban the possession of pet primates nationwide.

Eli’s troop has made real progress. Eli has started grooming Zachary, which is an important bonding behavior. He has even stopped hitting himself. His rocking is less frequent, although it hasn’t disappeared. Susie has connected with Patrick and Magadi, and seems to have assumed a leadership role in the troop.

On that rainy morning, after inspecting his human visitors, Eli tucked himself into a small corner alcove, staying mostly out of sight.

“He’s making the choice to kind of take himself off of view,” Moyse said. “He did not have the choice before. . . . And so that is the beauty of it. He can do whatever he wants.”

Emily Anthes writes about animal health and science for The New York Times.