Blackfish (M). Director: Gabriela Cowperthwaite. 79 minutes
In his seminal 1975 publication Animal Liberation, the Australian moral philosopher Peter Singer laid the groundwork for animal rights theory. He argued that it is the capacity of all animals to experience suffering — and not their relative intelligence — which should dictate the standards by which society treats them. Non-human animals, he argued, have rights, insofar as these rights are derived from their capacity to suffer.
Singer's utilitarian argument pertained particularly to the suffering endured by animals bred for the purposes of human consumption. Whatever you make of the argument in this context, how much more potent does it seem when considered in light of animals held for the purpose of mere entertainment. As such the documentary Blackfish finds much ground for moral outrage in its consideration of the suffering endured by performing orcas.
It is not merely a work of environmental activism, although it certainly contains elements of that. The film centres on Tilikum, a seven-metre, 5400kg bull orca, a star attraction at Orlando's SeaWorld theme park for decades, who is also responsible for the deaths of three people.
From its portrayal of the grief experienced by mother orcas when separated from their babies, whether in captivity or while still in the wild, to its revelations about the inherently tortuous environments in which the orcas are held, Blackfish argues that whales are creatures of intelligence and innate dignity, whose capacity for emotional and psychological as well as physical suffering renders such treatment repugnant.
It draws a straight line between Tilikum's violent streak and the traumatic days of his early life in captivity (at the now closed Sealand of the Pacific in British Columbia), where he was bullied and repeatedly savaged by two dominant females in the dark, cramped enclosure in which they were stored at night.
This doesn't merely evoke the difficulty of domesticising a wild animal. It is a picture of a living creature that has been permanently, psychologically damanged by its cruel treatment by humans.
Orcas are beautiful, majestic creatures, and Blackfish contains plenty of cute moments, of trainers embracing the animals or exchanging kisses through glass, as well as dramatic footage of the performing orcas in full flight. But even for those who are untouched by the Free Willy effect, Blackfish has a case to make. Director Cowperthwaite prods her subject deftly from a variety of fronts.
Tilikum's victims include 20-year-old marine biology student and competitive swimmer Keltie