To examine a film’s reflexive nature or to study the reflexivity of a given work is something that really only happens in film school or within the pages of scholarly film textbooks and journals. Simply put, when a film is reflexive it touches on the process of making a movie. Louis Psihoyos’ documentary, The Cove, is as much about making movies as it is about the wrongful slaughter of dolphins in Japan. The Cove is, without a doubt, a standing testament not only to the art of the documentary, but the process of emotionally connecting people to moving images. Much like last year’s Academy Award winning documentary Man on Wire, The Cove is a thriller disguised as a documentary. In standard thriller fashion, the Cove starts with a mission that will either be accomplished or failed.
Every year, off the coast of Taiji, Wakayama in Japan, fishermen lure hundreds of dolphins into an isolated cove. Once confined in the cove by rope lines and fishing boats, dolphin trainers examine each animal. The dolphins showing the most promise and those that are most adept at taking orders and performing tricks are separated and flown all over the 
world to act as “show dolphins” at water parks and aquariums. The remaining dolphins, once the trainers have left, are rounded up and brutally slaughtered for their meat. Dolphin meat acts as a type of filler in Japan. Since dolphins are at the top of the food chain, all the fish they consume results in their meat containing dangerously high levels of mercury. Dolphin meat is often subbed for whale meat and other types of consumer-grade fish found in Japanese markets.
Enter Rick O’Barry, the dolphin trainer who was once in charge of perhaps the most famous dolphin of all time: Flipper. O’Barry tended to the various dolphins who played the famous television animal until one of them committed a type of suicide. O’Barry explains that when dolphins are in captivity, the high noise levels at shows and, in Flipper’s case, on set, results in extremely high stress levels for the animals. One of the dolphins O’Barry tended to during the series one day literally decided to close its blowhole and suffocate. The heartbreaking incident led O’Barry to become one of the leading activists against the unethical treatment of dolphins. He has made a name for himself with law enforcement and dolphin fisherman for his brazen attempts at breaking dolphins out of captivity. O’Barry, who knows about the slaughter at the cove, has tried numerous times to put an end to the yearly event. Given the cove’s isolated location and the fishermen that protect it with their lives, O’Barry has, up until now, been unsuccessful.
I mentioned before that every great thriller involves some type of mission or goal. In the case of The Cove, the mission is simple. A team of divers and filmmakers led by Rick O’Barry and director Louie Psihoyos will attempt to hide high definition cameras and underwater recording devices all around the cove to capture the slaughter on film. The nighttime scouting and planting of devices plays out like a covert ops mission with the filmmakers barely staying one step ahead of local law enforcement and fishermen. The results are startling and unnerving to say the least.
The Cove will attempt to convince you of the bond between dolphins and human beings. The film offers statistics and expert opinions as to the advanced nature of dolphin communication and just how difficult it is for a dolphin to exist in captivity. The Cove, without a doubt, is about all those things. There are statistics and maps and interviews about how the Japanese people are being duped with their own health hanging in the balance. The Cove is, however, also a movie about making a movie. The film is certainly at its best during the suspenseful moments when divers and cameramen are risking their own lives to capture an event on film. The Cove is a testament to the often-overlooked power that the moving image has to enlighten and, in this case, enrage. Many will argue the true message of this film. Some will say that The Cove is attempting to dispute human dominance over the animal kingdom and still others will say the film is about doing whatever you have to do to stop something you know is wrong and that, in Rick O’Barry’s case, have spent almost a whole adult life trying to fight. The Cove’s message most certainly has to do with all those ideas and more. However, the film, in its most basic sense, is about the power of a camera in the right hands. Movies, with all their glitz, glamor and explosions, tend to trick us. Oftentimes, the idea of a few people with some camera equipment (in the case of The Cove, some pretty advanced equipment), is overlooked for its simplicity. The Cove serves as a serious reminder of just how strong moving images can be.
The one gripe I have with this otherwise excellent documentary is its lack of real closure. The ending comes in an extremely abrupt fashion and, despite some end cards updating the viewer on the status of the film’s main players, offers little in terms of true resolution. I was curious to know more and would have certainly sat through ten or fifteen more minutes if it meant I could learn how all the events tied up. The open-ended nature of the film is meant to spark viewer involvement in the cause. The effectiveness of this ending is debatable. Despite this, The Cove is an important film and one that deserves attention when it opens in limited release and, hopefully, wider release.
**Keep an eye out for Beth Cooper herself, Hayden Panettiere, as she makes a brief but noticeable cameo in the film.
**Keep an ear out for celebrated musician J. Ralph’s original music which, might I add, provides The Cove with an excellent emotional boost.
