When you look into their eyes, you know somebody is home, says a professor and former whale trainer in Gabriela Cowperthwaites often-shocking documentary Blackfish, speaking to the intelligence and personality of captive killer whales. Later in the film, theyre called something else: ticking time bombs.
Prompted by the 2010 death of SeaWorld orca trainer Dawn Brancheau, Blackfish looks at the history of killer whales in captivity but focuses primarily on one: Tilikum, a male orca captured in 1982 and subsequently involved in the deaths of three people at marine theme parks.
Hes killing because hes frustrated and has no outlet, says an expert in the film. The whale was separated from his family, held captive in tiny pools, left for long periods without stimulation or exercise, attacked by other theme-park whales establishing dominance, and forced to perform behaviors for food all of which left him, the film argues, psychotic.
Tilikum isnt the only captive whale whos killed or injured a trainer we see a long list of incidents, and some harrowing footage of near-fatal whale/trainer interaction (thankfully, were not shown any fatal incidents). We hear emergency-call transcripts of Brancheaus death (A whale has eaten one of the trainers!, says someone, barely able to get the words out), and listen as a parade of former SeaWorld trainers discuss their now-troubled relationship with their past work. One watches a clip of herself at a SeaWorld show announcing cheerily that Namu is doing this because he wants to! and cringes.
A title card tells us that SeaWorld repeatedly declined to be interviewed for this film, and the company has publicly taken issue with many of the films claims.
The ultimate message of Blackfish is clear: Killer whales belong with their families in their natural habitat, not performing for audiences. After listening to this films many impassioned voices, its hard to argue.