By Nicholas Ware
Blackfish, the new documentary about Tilikum, the killer whale currently residing in SeaWorld who has been involved with three human deaths (most recently trainer Dawn Brancheau, during a show), is a one-sided activist documentary. Let us get that fact out of the way. If you go into Blackfish with an opinion one way or another--SeaWorld is a monstrous corporation that puts profits above human and animal life or SeaWorld provides benign entertainment and important conservation efforts--you with either find your opinion confirmed or you will find the documentary unwatchable. The politics of Blackfish, I feel, are secondary to my job as a reviewer, which is to assess Blackfish's value as a film. Of course, it's a very difficult job to separate the way I feel about Blackfish's message (85% agree) from the way I feel about Blackfish's structure and presentation (85% positive). On the politics, I'll say this, and leave it absent from the next few paragraphs: SeaWorld--and this extends to many zoos as well--serves a variety of vital scientific and conservationist efforts that are laudable and needed in the world. However, SeaWorld, unlike most zoos, is a huge for-profit (and hugely profitable) endeavor. Unlike zoos whose funding is supplemented by attendance but not entirely dependent on it, every decision SeaWorld makes is with an eye towards financial success. Thus, its scientific and conservationist efforts are secondary to the almighty dollar. This hierarchy of desires will inevitably lead to exploitation of their workers and their animals as well as decisions against the best interests of both, and I believe Blackfish when they present evidence of said poor decisions. And now, back to your regularly scheduled review.
Blackfish's main issue is that it doesn't concentrate on a single story being told. It's not the story of Dawn Brancheau. It's not the story of Tilikum. It's not the story of SeaWorld and their legal issues with the Occupational Safety and Health Administration. It's not the story of the "killer whale industry." It's not the story of how multiple trainers came to disavow the company for which they once worked. Instead, Blackfish attempts to tell all these stories, and as a result it feels scattershot. In 83 minutes, it hits the high notes but doesn't manage to delve so deeply into any of these particular stories that they feel resolved. As a viewer, I end up feeling sympathy for Dawn and also the abused and violent Tilikum. While I praise ambivalence in a situation like this--it's far too complicated to draw thick lines around--that ambivalence is not addressed. I feel like that perhaps is the most compelling angle of Blackfish that is left unexplored: how can trainers continue to work with animals they know are capable and willing to kill them, that they know are being put in a poor state by their very work, when that work builds a truly awe-inspiring love for the animal? It's an interesting, vicious cycle that is barely touched on by Blackfish.
While there are multiple structural issues with Blackfish and it seems not to know what story it is telling--certainly that story would be able to come into focus more easily if SeaWorld executives had been willing to be interviewed for the film, but naturally they were not--it leaves an indelible impression, even for someone like myself who has never been fascinated with killer whales the way so many have nor has much personal interest in either the continuing presence or demise of SeaWorld (though my politics are clear above). However, the relevance that Blackfish has to Orlando's business and culture is enough to make it required viewing for all residents that wish to be able to engage in an intelligent and thoughtful discussion on the nature of this beast. Blackfish is a hit piece, no question, but it is a humane, compelling, and powerful hit piece that is well worth viewing.
Blackfish opens today at the Enzian. Rated PG-13 for mature thematic elements including disturbing and violent images. Run time 1 hour 23 minutes.
