The film’s main protgonist is Ric O’Barry. When we first meet him he appears a little paranoid: a man not to be trusted. He’s wearing a doctor’s mask on his face so as not to be detected by the local authorities in Taiji. From this initial impression, I developed an immediate cynical response to O’Barry as just another crazy left-wing lunatic. Later, when Taiji’s chief of police is tailing O’Barry’s van, my cynicism dissipated. As the film progresses, and we learn who O’Barry is and what he stands for, it becomes evident that O’Barry is brave for even being near Taiji and that his paranoia is justified, and perhaps too mild for his own safety. The trouble is that we don’t get enough of O’Barry. Here is a truly fascinating man. He trained the dolphins for the original Flipper, including his favorite, Cathy. However, he came to realize that it is cruel to harvest dolphins for entertainment, by manipulating them as slaves. He feels deep regret for having taken part in popularizing this form of punishment. He also keeps mentioning, in some sort of disgusting, ironic glee, that if he weren’t an activist out to save Dolphins, he could easily be making millions of dollars by capturing them.

What Psihoyos does get from O’Barry is a direct challenge to Aristotle. O’Barry insists that Cathy willingly committed suicide. He claims that dolphins are cursed with the appearance of always smiling so that we cannot detect their inner pain. The film makes a case that dolphins are potentially smarter than humans. They actively engage in fun and entertainment, understand sign language, and communicate with each other. This depiction of dolphins as being self-aware provides a significant level of empathy that contributes to the overall impact of the entire film.

Unfortunately, Psihoyos is not interested in a deep exploration of O’Barry’s inner psyche and life philosophy. He merely skims the surface of a complex human life. I believe that an opportunity has been missed. In the hands of a great documentarian like Errol Morris, O’Barry would become a film subject to rival the likes of Robert Crumb and Robert S. McNamara, providing a deep meditation on the human experience. Instead Psihoyos makes the same error as This Film Is Not Yet Rated. He centers the film on how their information was obtained. Just as This Film Is Not Yet Rated became more of a private detective procedural than an examination of the MPAA, The Cove settles for being a nighttime, espionage thriller. It’s a well done thriller, but it dilutes the purpose and distracts from important, and frankly more interesting, issues involving mercury content and Japan’s bribing of third world countries. To compliment the tone of a thriller, Psiyohos provides a standard, manipulative score, which both hypes the moments of suspense, and attempts to create tears out of the quiet, gentle passages. Ideally, the film doesn’t need a score at all. The images speak for themselves and what we lose are the sounds of nature. Using the theme song to Flipper proves to be an exquisite musical choice, as the more we hear it, the more grotesque and soulless that little melody becomes. But then Psihoyos uses “Smile” in a similar way. It’s not appropriate to potentially link Chaplin’s life affirming tune with the image of slaughtered dolphins. On the other hand, the use of David Bowie’s “Heroes” serves as the perfect note to end the film.

What makes The Cove special, transcending past the likes of An Inconvenient Truth and Fahrenheit 451 is the image of the slaughter. It’s a shocking, despairing scene: the fulfillment of God’s first plague on Egypt. A bold and striking depiction of the carnality of man. An almost unbearable spectacle, only made palatable by Ric O’Barry’s following coup, which represents hope, triumph and personal reassurance in the civility of the human race.

-Jason Bardin

The documentary focuses its case on health and safety issues, and keeps raw emotion and nostalgia to a minimum.  While not everyone may think it cruel to grow chickens with breasts that are too large, not enough room to breathe, and often no sunlight, nearly everyone can agree that it’s cruel to ourselves to allow infected and unhealthy food to dominate our supermarkets.  Even when the mother of a child who died of  e. coli is shown, it’s not meant to generate easy tears, but to point out how much of an outrage it is for a developed nation to allow this to happen.  The problem is that in this country we are quite literally eating shit, and don’t care as long as we get to taste the sugar, salt, and fat that our species has always craved. 

How tempting it would be to pander to the liberal documentary crowd and demonize the big businesses that run the mass-poisoning operations.  The film does succumb to the usual temptation of presenting a few titles that say “we repeatedly contacted so and so but he didn’t respond” as fair representation of the corporate perspective.  I desperately want to know if as much effort was made to get an industry representative to give an interview as was put into finding the one farmer out of hundreds who agreed to show the inside of her chicken house.  But the film isn’t trying to make the case that corporations and technology are inherently evil, just that they shouldn’t trample individual freedom.  Monsanto can go ahead and produce its genetically engineered pesticide-resistant seed if that’s what sells.  What it should not be allowed to do is force its will upon farmers through corporate secret police and gag laws.  There’s nothing wrong with cheap fast food.  The problem is that it is made artificially cheap by subsidies written by those who benefit from them.  As a result, a poor, hardworking family has no choice but to eat themselves sick on the only food that they can afford.  If we are open-minded enough to criticize corporations for their actions rather than their existence, we find that Walmart (of all companies) is ready for change.  It is perfectly willing to buy all sorts of organic products—as long as they sell.

We then get the message that up until seeing the movie I had always thought was a bunch of hippiesh kumba ya.  YOU CAN CHANGE THE WORLD!  YOUR PURCHASES AT THE SUPERMARKET ARE VOTES!  Change our society so that health and environmental costs are reflected in food prices, making organic food much more competitive!  What’s stopping us from bringing back reforms as comprehensive as those made after the publication of The Jungle!  Hopelessly optimistic?  Perhaps.  But it’s much better than turning a blind eye and believing that your food is “natural” and “farm fresh” without acknowledging the realities of how it was made.

If you enjoyed the way Food, Inc. makes its case, I would highly recommend that you watch The Plow That Broke The Plains and The River, two short documentaries produced in 1936 as part of the New Deal that show how the environment was being destroyed by forces similar to those discussed in Food Inc., and how it was being re-built thanks to the efforts of the CCC and WPA.  Amazingly, all three films use similar visual contrasts between the popular fantasy of simple living and the reality of irresponsible use of technology (in both farms and factories) and the destruction it brings.  It becomes fascinating to compare the way similar documentaries were made in different eras, especially the treatment of issues of race and class and the sharp contrast between the 1930’s message of “together we are building huge dams and planting vast forests” and the 2000’s message of “you have the power to help change the world every time you buy groceries.”  I was fortunate enough to get a chance to see both The Plow That Broke The Plains and The River in a theater.  The two are available together on DVD, but since they’re in the public domain, you can also watch them for free at the Internet Archive (click on the names of films to get there).  If you do decide to watch one or both, be patient.  At first they may seem like hokey overdoses of Americana, but by the end you will have seen environmental documentaries with a persuasiveness that Al Gore can only dream of.

-Robert Henderson