The Cove is kind of a hybrid of environmental/animal-rights polemic and a thriller in the mold of a heist movie, only more along the lines of Inception: instead of taking something out, these people (camera technician wizards from ILM) are putting something in. In this case it's at a cove in a small village, Taijii, where fishermen are (somewhat not so) secretly killing dolphins en masse, and the cameramen are after a simple thing: put believably disguised rocks that have cameras inside that can film outward and capture on tape what is going on, due to the strict lack of access during the day. We get the background on Richard O'Barry, the original trainer of Flipper, and how he spent thirty years of his life after the first ten of working for dolphin training trying to redeem himself for what he's seen as horrific, inexcusable negligence of dolphins. I mean, after all, they can commit suicide for Pete's sake.
The segments with O'Barry, and the delving deep into the world of dolphin abuse and their captivity around the world, but most of all the sort of unspoken horror that goes on at the cove of Taijii, are fascinating and moving. And we get a good point of view into how O'Barry operates in this small village (he has to, for one, always have on a mask over his mouth as he drives to not attract attention as a non- Japanese non-fisherman). He is notorious, but his points are almost all valid. His conviction is so strong that it almost competes to take over what is, arguably, even more fascinating: how he gets together a group of tech-savvy people and divers and so on to make these cameras and do whatever it takes to plant them at the cove.
If the film possibly gets off track at any time it's just one or two minor places, like a diversion into the fishing industry and how it ties in with the dolphin saga (it just barely does, mostly by proxy of it being one of Japan's economic mainstays). But this is so minor a point that it's forgivable. What puts The Cove over the top as a must-see is the merging of the passionate subject matter with the purpose of artistry in the filmmaking. Perhaps by accident, the images of the climax of the film are staggering: the red of the blood of the dolphins pouring out into the water, it overtaking all of the blue of the ocean, and the harsh, Japanese-violent images of dolphin slaughter. It's like we're witness to a massacre that has a haunting beauty to it because of the juxtaposition of colors and how the cameras capture it. In the more conventional sense, there are also those wonderful scenes showing the film crew at night, in dim light and infra-green, sneaking around and freezing at the slightest sound or figure, even if it's a marmot.
The film provides a shocking topic that will get people talking, which is important, but it also needs to be a well-directed and told film, which it also is. The message is clear- so clear some may contest how truthful everything in the movie is, though it's hard for me to see what would be obfuscated all things considered (i.e. an Oceanic Preservation Society Production)- and film buffs looking for a strikingly shot documentary, with glorious images of dolphins at sea and their personalities (yes, personalities) shining through, will be excited.
The segments with O'Barry, and the delving deep into the world of dolphin abuse and their captivity around the world, but most of all the sort of unspoken horror that goes on at the cove of Taijii, are fascinating and moving. And we get a good point of view into how O'Barry operates in this small village (he has to, for one, always have on a mask over his mouth as he drives to not attract attention as a non- Japanese non-fisherman). He is notorious, but his points are almost all valid. His conviction is so strong that it almost competes to take over what is, arguably, even more fascinating: how he gets together a group of tech-savvy people and divers and so on to make these cameras and do whatever it takes to plant them at the cove.
If the film possibly gets off track at any time it's just one or two minor places, like a diversion into the fishing industry and how it ties in with the dolphin saga (it just barely does, mostly by proxy of it being one of Japan's economic mainstays). But this is so minor a point that it's forgivable. What puts The Cove over the top as a must-see is the merging of the passionate subject matter with the purpose of artistry in the filmmaking. Perhaps by accident, the images of the climax of the film are staggering: the red of the blood of the dolphins pouring out into the water, it overtaking all of the blue of the ocean, and the harsh, Japanese-violent images of dolphin slaughter. It's like we're witness to a massacre that has a haunting beauty to it because of the juxtaposition of colors and how the cameras capture it. In the more conventional sense, there are also those wonderful scenes showing the film crew at night, in dim light and infra-green, sneaking around and freezing at the slightest sound or figure, even if it's a marmot.
The film provides a shocking topic that will get people talking, which is important, but it also needs to be a well-directed and told film, which it also is. The message is clear- so clear some may contest how truthful everything in the movie is, though it's hard for me to see what would be obfuscated all things considered (i.e. an Oceanic Preservation Society Production)- and film buffs looking for a strikingly shot documentary, with glorious images of dolphins at sea and their personalities (yes, personalities) shining through, will be excited.