One of Midlands-based film-maker Sharon Walia’s previous works was The Keepers of the Pigs, proudly described on her production company’s website as “the first ever documentary about guinea pigs”. So it makes zoological sense that her latest film takes on capybaras, guinea pigs’ ridiculously cute semi-aquatic cousins that are indigenous to Latin America, and relatively recently became ubiquitous on social media in memes and short films alike. As glimpsed here, there was even a capybara in the recent Academy Award-winning animated feature Flow, some pro-cappy boosterism that captured the creatures’ chill vibe and snuffly sweetness.

Walia’s celebration of the species stays on script, rejoicing in the animals’ natural geniality, friendliness to other species in their natural habitat, and their compelling, remunerative charm that seems to have bolstered the fortunes of several animal attractions around the world.

Equipped with a fairly basic camera, a drone and her five-year-old son for company, Walia visits a variety of venues offering capybara-centric attractions, starting in the species’ home turf in Brazil; there she meets Luciano Mochinski, whose smartphone-shot footage of himself sitting under an umbrella with an large inquisitive male cappy went viral. (In fact, having achieved virality is often cited as a measure of success for several people here, which is little sad but that’s the times we live in.)

Other interlocutors include a cappy-cafe owner in Japan who’s found a great way to get out of the rat race doing what he loves and makes no claims to expertise on the creatures. By contrast, American cappy shillers love to reel off factoids and anecdotes and all sound like they’ve had media training should a camera crew or schoolbus full of kids pull up to the gates. The British cappy-keepers are endearingly more amateur, yet noticeably a little defensive, especially the owners of the park from where Cinnamon, a young female capybara, escaped and made the news and, once again, social media.

Indeed, the film-making here sometimes resembles the amateur efforts you’d see on social media, especially YouTube; the abrupt music transitions and off-the-shelf graphics look a little more naff than if you were watching this for free. But the homemade quality is part of The Route to Cappyness’s charm, along with the cuddly giant rodent stars themselves.