REVIEW - BLACKFISH

It is a common method of defence, when one is faced with evidence or argument so irrefutable that there is no way out, for one to fall silent. Another method is to deny every claim levelled at one, to dispute every word of supposed truth, to discredit one's opponent. SeaWorld has publicly practised the latter of those since the making of Blackfish. Faced with evidence that is clear, plain and impossible to reasonably deny, they have attempted to bring their imperious mass down on this film. During its making, they practised the former. I suppose that they expected that they'd be able to lie their way out of this, as they have done in court and on camera. I suppose that they expected to be able to shake their wealthy weight around and distribute shot after shot of delighted, normal, stupid audience members, enthralled by the power of mankind over these majestic animals, beguiled into cheerful acceptance by the maniacally ebullient SeaWorld staff and their vulgar choreographed shows. I suppose that they didn't expect this to come to much. Do not try to mollify these animals, after having effectively tortured them for almost their entire lives. Do not think that you are safe in their company. They, like us, are driven by both intelligence and instinct, and we humans are a match for neither. And, once you have defied the law of nature and subjected these creatures to the law of man, do not cover your asses by blaming a corpse for your wrongdoing. SeaWorld, swimming around in its own filth for years, wiping its putrid shit smears off its rear end with Dawn Brancheau's mutilated carcass - it's only gonna make the smell worse, motherfuckers. Gabriela Cowperthwaite's documentary is thoroughly one-sided, as this story is spherical: it only has one side. Initially a little hysterical in tone, the meat of the matter is nonetheless enough to make Blackfish a harrowing, horrifying experience. It ought to change your very outlook on how we treat animals, unless you're already on the right side.