There is no comfort to be had watching THE COVE, and much anger. The documentary film, which chronicles a renegade team's persistent investigation of the mistreatment of dolphins in a Japanese fishing town, was this year's Audience Award winner at the Sundance Film Festival. One might tend to expect that films that win this award are movies that uplift audiences, and this one does not. The only thing uplifting here is the knowledge that there are people in this world like those who made the film who are trying to do something about a terrible atrocity.
First-time documentarian Louie Psihoyos makes Richard O'Barry the central focus of THE COVE, and his position as the film's fulcrum is a clever choice. Having worked as the trainer of dolphins used on the 60s TV hit, "Flipper," O'Barry admits that he is largely responsible for the public image of dolphins as smiling and fun-seeking animals who love to be pet and give rides to humans.
He changed his mind, he tells us, when one of the dolphins used for "Flipper" died in his arms. In fact, O'Barry is so bold as to speculate that the dolphin "committed suicide" because she was "severely depressed." And lest we think that these are human-only conditions and decisions, THE COVE reminds us of the magical intelligence of dolphins and even speculates that they are more intelligent than we are. Regardless of what is fact here, O'Barry has dedicated his life to freeing dolphins in captivity and fighting against the slaughter of the animals.
He has paid a high price for his actions. The film explains that O'Barry has been kicked out of most of the professional organizations to which he's belonged. When asked how many times he's been arrested for his protesting, he answers the question with another question: "This year?" And yet all of this is justified collateral damage to him.
The seaport town of Taijii, Japan is exposed in THE COVE as being notorious for capturing dolphins. Those that closely resemble Flipper are sold for somewhere in the neighborhood of $150,000 apiece to places like Sea World around the globe to entertain screaming humans. The rest are slaughtered. Shockingly, their meat is sold, sometimes repackaged as something else, much of it containing toxic levels of mercury.
What makes THE COVE an intense film viewing experience is that the director and O'Barry assemble a team of specialists, "Oceans 11-style" (as they put it), to smuggle cameras and sound wave technology into the area in order to prove what is going on. In this way, the film is similar to and every bit as exciting as last year's "Man on Wire," another film that turned the documentary genre into a heart-pounding thriller.
Regardless of your politics, it will be hard to come away from this film not siding with the filmmakers, and it is in this area where I hold out with just a bit of caution. My 8 year-old daughter, who watched the film with me, was outraged and couldn't wait to get to school the next day to tell all of her classmates that the Japanese are killing all of the dolphins. Indeed, the film steers dangerously close to vilifying the entire nation. True, a section is included to explain that most residents of major cities like Tokyo are unaware of what is going on, but even the inclusion of this information feels to Western viewers like a state of ignorance and reduces Japanese credibility. Only a few Japanese are shown standing up for what is right.
In the end, THE COVE works as a better documentary film about the environment than movies like "An Inconvenient Truth" because it seems to steer clear of a political agenda. Here, this environmental catastrophe is a social injustice, an oceanic Holocaust. It's hard not to agree, and virtually impossible not to care. The film is not pleasing to watch, but when it's over, you feel enlightened, thankful to know about it. And that's what good documentaries are meant to do.
3.5 out 4
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