I’ve found that advocacy documentaries are the most difficult to write about, because the audience’s positive reaction is inevitably premised on the shared opinion that, well, the filmmakers are right. In a sense, there may be no better environment — that of the clarifying white heat of anger — in which to make a film; the result is inherently invested with ethical authority. It’s this moral certitude, shared with the audience (especially one that’s already converted to the cause), that ends up artificially buoying a film, irrespective of aesthetic considerations. A documentary’s flaws may not appear until a second, more sober viewing.
Not to worry, for The Cove isn’t like that at all — it truly is a powerful and compelling document — but it raises these issues for me because much of its power is taken from its “inherent”, extra-cinematic rectitude. I can’t imagine very many people taking an opposing side in The Cove, for starters — I mean, it’s about dolphins, for crying out loud — but agreement with the beliefs espoused in the documentary obviously doesn’t make the film automatically a masterpiece.
The Cove is mostly set in the picturesque fishing town of Taiji, Japan, famous among tourists for its dolphins. But its shallow waters, as the movie tagline goes, harbor deep secrets: the horrific slaughter of 23,000 dolphins every year in a cove, fenced off and patrolled by videocamera-wielding fishermen. But although the dolphins are corralled in full view of the public — some are culled for lucrative sale to aquariums and marine parks, with the rest taken to the cove — there is no documented visual proof, and The Cove is essentially a chronicle of how Psihoyos, the film’s director and a founder of the Oceanic Preservation Society, and a crew of activists, risk life and limb to obtain the footage.
The film’s lead character is Richard O’Barry — at one point the most famous dolphin trainer in the world, who captured and trained all five dolphins on the TV show “Flipper” — who, in, the last 35 years, has turned dolphin advocate. More than just “advocate”, really: there’s grainy footage of him slicing up nets to let the intelligent creatures free, and we see O’Barry (incidentally, the spitting image of Richard Widmark) repeatedly getting arrested. Indeed, his first dolphin-related arrest — attempting to rescue dolphins, of course — came after the main dolphin in Flipper decides to stop breathing and commits suicide, as O’Barry puts it, in his arms.
The Cove plays like a real-life spy thriller, complete with subterfuge and high-tech gadgetry. (We’re talking spy balloons, underwater microphones, and high-definition cameras hidden in fake rocks made by Industrial Light and Magic.) Surprisingly, the scenes that feature their actual acts of espionage are paradoxically the dullest, like an episode of “Ghost Hunters” where nothing happens — shaky cameras, filmed in sickly-green night vision, with an undercurrent of pulsing Bourne Identity-style music. The tension really lies in the standoffs between O’Barry’s team and the fishermen, where their confrontations feel like a hair trigger away from physical violence.
The Cove is skillfully edited, weaving the various topics and locales — a convention of the ineffectual International Whaling Commission, the marketing of dolphin meat, the overharvesting of fish, the Minamata tragedy, American amusement parks — into a seamless, fascinating whole. But it’s the cinematography in the film that really shines, as in time-lapse shots of the daily activity at the Tsukiji fish market and, most especially, a gorgeous, otherworldly sequence showing free divers swimming with the dolphins in a haunting underwater ballet.
Once the groundwork for the cove footage is laid, Psihoyos is content to move out of the way and let the facts speak for themselves. It’s a gripping and disturbing work, and one whose chief cinematic aim is that of persuasion: to get the audience to do something. (And surely I wasn’t the only one who went straight to the movie’s official website — see the trailer there too — or the Save Japan Dolphins site immediately after seeing the movie. And yes, I signed the petitions.)
But if The Cove has a flaw, it’s a minor one. At some point I wanted the film to return to O’Barry, Psihoyos, and the rest of the crew: to understand their motivations for putting their lives in danger, to dig deeper into their reactions upon seeing their worst fears confirmed (though the director wisely shows restraint by not doing so). The Cove begins with a reconnaissance mission, with O’Barry driving in a face mask to conceal his identity, and Psihoyos wonders out loud whether O’Barry’s paranoia is justified. (It is.) It’s a promising beginning, but this small moment of self-doubt is too brief.
I realize the movie is not about O’Barry’s story, but his lifelong act of penance is, to myself at least, the strongest narrative element of the film. It’s not that there’s too many dolphins in The Cove; it’s that there aren’t enough people. The plight of the dolphins is truly tragic, but what is most moving is the protagonists’ incredible and almost foolhardy dedication to their mission. It’s in that sense that The Cove accomplishes a tiny miracle: you leave the theater outraged, yes, for the human capacity to do wrong seems almost limitless, and has been proven many times over. But you are also reminded, most especially by this film, that that same human ability to do good is most marvelous of all.
Popularity: 4%
Possibly related posts:
Post a Comment