Four stars. Suitable for all ages
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.26.16
In a film laden with captivating
facts — an impressive number of them, for a documentary that runs only 40
minutes — none is more unexpected than the revelation that the world’s attitude
about whale-hunting was changed, almost overnight, by ... a record album.
1970’s Songs of the Humpback Whale, produced by biologist and
environmentalist Roger Payne, culminated his three-year study of songs and
vocalizations among these mighty ocean mammals. It became the best-selling
environmental album in history, sharing not only the majestic beauty of these
oddly melodic sounds, but proving that they represented a complex means of
communication.
The subsequent “Save the Whales”
movement, galvanized by this “discovery” of highly evolved whale culture,
resulted in the 1972 United Nations Conference on the Human Environment’s
global moratorium on commercial whaling (observed to this day by all but three
countries: Japan, Iceland and Norway).
That’s an impressive result, for
a rather unusual pop LP.
These magnificent creatures are
celebrated in the MacGillivray Freeman IMAX documentary, Humpback Whales: a gorgeously filmed production with all the
hallmarks of previous efforts such as Grand
Canyon Adventure, Dolphins, Coral Reef Adventure and many others.
Indeed, MacGillivray Freeman productions have long been the crown jewels of
IMAX nature documentaries, and this one’s no exception.
Director Greg MacGillivray and
his team of giant-screen cinematographers patiently recorded humpback behavior
and migrations in the waters off Alaska, Hawaii and most particularly the
remote islands of Tonga, which has enjoyed its own success with a local whale
restoration program. Via commentary given just the right degree of reverence
and Scottish lilt by off-camera narrator Ewan McGregor, we learn why humpbacks
“perform” these diverse and haunting songs, and why they migrate up to 10,000
miles, round-trip, every year.
The always amazing footage is
given greater dramatic heft by composer Steve Wood’s exhilarating score, which mixes
humpback songs with an orchestral blend of piano, synthesized sounds and the
energetic themes of Canadian folk guitarist Calum Graham. Wood also
choreographs several sequences to the rousing 2014 pop anthem “Best Day of My
Life,” which echoes the irrepressible bliss that we can’t help experiencing, while
watching the humpbacks whirl, twirl and leap with abandon.
Needless to say, MacGillivray
gives us plenty of “money shots” of these 55-foot, 50-ton, unexpectedly
acrobatic animals propelling their massive bodies almost entirely out of the
water, in order to slap back onto the surface, accompanied by a thwomp with the volume of a sonic boom.
Such scenes are awe-inspiring, to
say the least.
As are the lengthy sequences of
mother whale parental behavior, as they instruct their jumbo-sized babies in
the essential arts of feeding, migration and overall survival. Like all
mammals, infant humpbacks are curious and eager mimics; nothing is cuter —
allowing for the size of these creatures — than a sequence that shows a mother
whale smacking her tail on the water’s surface, while her offspring does the
same with its (not that much smaller) tail.
And yet a few things remain
unknown, because such behavior never has been seen, let alone recorded: the courtship
ritual that eventually produces this
ginormous baby, and its subsequent birth. Hard to believe, in the second decade
of the 21st century, but scientists still haven’t glimpsed humpback sex.
(Obviously, the whales are extremely shy.)
The most fascinating footage,
caught in Alaskan bays, reveals a degree of cooperative hunting behavior which
— given its water setting — is every bit as cunning and ingenious as that
demonstrated by land-based wolf packs. This method, known as “bubble net
fishing,” involves at least half a dozen humpbacks, working together to
maximize their access to a large school of herring.
The labor is divided, with a few
whales blowing and directing large streams of air bubbles that effectively
“herd” the herring into a closely packed group. Other whales “nudge” this
compact flurry of fish toward the surface, with still other humpbacks producing
booming “feeding calls” that further concentrate the prey, forcing them to the
center of the “bubble net.”
The process obviously requires
patience and persistence, but the reward is significant: an essentially
entrapped colony of hundreds (thousands?) of small fish, driven toward the
ocean’s surface and then — in a sudden feeding frenzy — scooped into the
humpback’s mighty maws.
Which, just in passing, lack
teeth. A humpback mouth is full of baleen — like our hair and nails — which
acts as a filter when the whales scoop up tiny prey animals.
The significance of this skillful
hunting technique becomes understood, when McGregor reminds us that humpbacks
eat up to two tons of food per day.
MacGillivray concludes his film
on an exciting and suspenseful sequence, as “whale rescuer” Ed Lyman leads a team
on a small boat, with the goal of disentangling a humpback that has gotten
wrapped up in long strands of abandoned fishing gear. This is potentially
fatal, as the drag can tire the mighty animal, and — depending on how much
debris is involved — even prevent it from diving.
Lyman is based at The Hawaiian
Islands Entanglement Response Network, a community-based endeavor led by the
Hawaiian Islands Humpback Whale National Marine Sanctuary, partnered with the
U.S. government’s National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.
There’s no question of the
difficulties involved, as Lyman’s (comparatively) tiny boat races after a
compromised humpback; it’s also highly dangerous, as the whale’s unexpected
movement could cripple the boat or injure — even kill — its human rescuers.
And while this particular mission
concludes on a happy note — MacGillivray wouldn’t have dared do otherwise — the
numbers are grim. “We know we’re only scratching the surface,” Lyman notes. “We
believe we only find about 4 percent of entangled whales.”
That’s
a sobering detail on which to conclude this inspiring film, but it speaks to
the challenges involved, and the need to more aggressively re-think the
mega-fishing techniques that can lead to such tragedies. MacGillivray Freeman
films never are shy about their role in environmental advocacy ... and more
power to them.
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