Directed by Louie Psihoyos. PG cert, Light House, Dublin, 92 min
WHEN APPROACHING a documentary on an ecological subject, the average punter may feel the need to gird one’s metaphorical loins.
For all the inconvenient truths in An Inconvenient Truth, Al Gore’s illustrated lecture really was not a very good film. The 11th Hour was so deadeningly boring that, despite featuring a gallon of Leonardo DiCaprio, it was barely released outside the US.
So it’s a pleasant task to announce that Louie Psihoyos’s film about the slaughter of bottle-nosed dolphins in a particular Japanese fishing town is an exciting piece of work. Imposing the structure and tone of an espionage thriller on the story does certainly lead us down some questionable artistic byways, and it’s true that some significant questions remain unanswered. But The Cove is so gripping that you’re unlikely to notice the flaws until after you’ve left the cinema and donated a wad to your favourite ecological charity.
It helps that Psihoyos has a good story to tell. The picture focuses on the activities of a former dolphin trainer – indeed, the man who gave us Flipper – named Richard O’Barry. While making the popular TV show, O’Barry came to realise that dolphins, allegedly disturbingly intelligent, were rarely happy being propelled through hoops in marine parks. Campaigning against the practice, he happened upon Taiji, a town in Japan where, every year, hundreds of dolphins are killed in a practice known as drive hunting.
Calling on the expertise of various divers, film-makers and surveillance experts, O’Barry set out to record the slaughter and reveal the truth to the world. As they evade the attention of angry fishermen and unreasonable policemen, O’Barry and his mob take on the quality of a briny Ocean’s Eleven.
The logistical planning remains consistently entertaining, and much of the background research (particularly that dealing with the deeply flawed International Whaling Commission) reveals any number of unhappy truths. Psihoyos also dispels worries that this issue is compelling only because of our affection for a particularly attractive animal by bringing in concerns about mercury levels in dolphin meat.
All that noted, there is something dubious about the way footage of the slaughter is coyly held back until the last possible moment. “Wait until you see this,” the film seems to pant. “You’re going to blown away by how gory it is.”
Aside from lending The Cove a somewhat pornographic tone, this strategy, by building expectations, serves to dull the impact of the eventual scene. The slaughter looks like what it is: horrible, but no more so than what you might see in the average abattoir.
A fine piece of work, nonetheless.
