The Saddest Wail

FREE WILLY, WILL YOU?

I guess this is for everyone to decide. I saw one of the Shamu shows a few years ago. I am glad I did - I said it then & I say it now. And like I said it then, I am glad that I did because it's  done and I don't have to go back.

In all fairness, there is a multitude of excellent things going on in that park and kids, particularly, enjoy it wildly. There are also vast educational opportunities, for all ages, and lots of valuable and truly insightful wildlife research packaged and delivered to all audiences. The big attractor, I found it, was indeed the orcas show. The audience went crazy at all the splashes, slides, jumps, tricks etc. and everyone hyperventilated in amazement and excitement. And still, I thought it was the saddest great show that could ever be. Great, because it is indeed amazing what those whales can do, the extent to which they go to please and obey and entertain, the depth of their learning and intense focus, and the exceptional communication they have with their trainers. It is also mind-blowing to see and learn what those trainers do, the total involvement in that learning process, their dedication and commitment beyond duty and words, as well as the special bonds with those whales transpiring from all interactions. It is humbling, heart-wrenching to see nature overpowering nurture, and nurture making fine inroads into pure nature, what a whale can do and say and what a trainer throws into the mix to forge that bond, with every praise, command, act, and close encounter. It truly is. But this is also where the good ends and the lesser good begins. Because everything you are so well and eagerly taught about the species and their behavior, everything your eyes see and your mind grasps in the process screams: Get me out of here! And PLEASE free the whales, too! The unbearable noise and hyperstimulation, the music, the pressure, the small pool, the large whale, the artificial surroundings involuntarily triggers both your imagination and will to place them elsewhere, in the open sea and bottomless ocean, among their families, within their culture. Back to their mythical magic and traditionally revered spiritual power. Even if everything the movie shows and tell can be successfully contested or amended, a few moments are above any argument. Perhaps the most cautionary tale is the incident that brings an expert senior trainer to his knees, that is the bottom of the pool. And then dragged up for a few breaths and dragged back again to the bottom of the pool. Again, and again, and again. Like in a breathtaking tango of life-and-death the finite man and the infinite marine creature explain nature, territory, control, and, why not, bond to all who have eyes to see and hearts to feel. You cannot help but wonder : in the end, who obeys who? Because no fool could deny that the teaching and learning happen equally both ways. And then, of course, the most unbearably sad scene is the separation of mother and calf. And if you bring just strictly reason into judgment - and how could you?- there is still the most persuasive image of it all: a pod of air-blowing whales, at dawn, in the stillness of Puget Sound. Really, it' s the only way we all make sense, man & whale.

Above all the fray, Blackfish is a subtle tribute to nature and man's endless standing in error always making the same unreasonable choice of paying a way higher price on never-learning than on truly-learning itself.