A documentary thrives on three elements: diligent research, visceral impact and well-structured organization. Going down that list, Blackfish can take solace in a big black check through each. Although I wasn’t as knotted up as the woman wiping a torrent of tears from her eyes for a good 75 percent of the film sitting next to me, the weighty subject matter, hard hitting questions and inviting narrative structure make this a documentary that is not to be missed.

Bringing in a neurologist to examine the structure of an orca brain, we’re told that the orca limbic system (an neurological structure linked to emotion) is far more complex and advanced than those found in humans. Because the limbic system is connected to emotional response, this shows an unparalleled emotional complexity residing within the orca species. Research going above and beyond like this, matched with well-timed placement within the film, makes the ensuing ordeal all the more horrifying.

Since the young orcas are the only ones suitable to capture (as shipping costs are quite obviously the first and only concern) there is no regard for the larger, elder ones. Those caught in the nets are sliced open, stuffed with rocks and tied to anchors. Their unsightly (and considerably illegal) corpses are then sent discreetly to the bottom of the ocean. Cowperthwaite has somehow uncovered video evidence of this sad state of affairs and her superlative ability to seek out and appropriately harness this footage is unmatched.

What Cowperthwaite was not able to get footage of, she has broadcast with animated recreation. Rendering the capture of Tilikum in post-amateur animation is not strictly a necessity but it adds a narrative course that if missing would invoke a sense of lost chronology.  Under a self-imposed weight of incumbency, Cowperthwaite revels in fierce levels of detail, revealing and recreating all that she can. In this perseverance to disseminate the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, Blackfish stands out from amongst the documentary crowd.

The young but fast growing Tilikum is next sent to Canada to perform at Sealand of the Pacific, where he spends the majority of his time in a 20 foot by 30 foot pool shared with two other foreign orcas who take to chastising and bullying him. They often “rake” his blubbery exterior – essentially stripping his flesh into bloody ribbons with their teeth. As Tilikum suffers, his captors grow rich. As his “cellmates” rake his flesh, his captors rake in the money. The bottom-of-the-barrel standards are shockingly poor and we watch helplessly; mystified and dazed in a stupefied horror.

When one Sealand trainer slips into the tank, she is brutalized and murdered with eyewitness accounts placing responsibility on the male bull with whom we are already familiar: Tilikum. Seizing the opportunity to make some money on the way out, Sealand of the Pacific ships the dangerous orca off to the Disney World of ocean parks; Seaworld. These are the conspicuous beginnings of a whale, which has now wracked up a body count of three to perform to this day and yet continues to perform.

In an attempt to peek behind the curtain, Cowperthwaite shifts her focus onto the corporate structure of SeaWorld and their backwater tactics of secrecy, collusion, and irresponsibility. This is an organization that knowingly deceives park-guests, employees, and advocacy groups, asserting that orcas in no way pose a threat to their trainers. In some regard, they’re right, as there are no documented cases of orca-on-human violence documented in the wild. In captivity however, the number of assaults are staggering. The real shock is not in the data though but in the willingness of the corporate giant to sweep it under the rug.

In this wheelhouse of misinformation, only disaster can follow. Taking the accounts of various former SeaWorld trainers, Cowperthwaite correctly points out how they, nor their captive animals, are the ones to blame. These trainers are passionate about the animals they work with and are deceived into participating in a tremendously vicious cycle where they must literally put their lives on the line if they wish to continue working with the animals.

From SeaWorld’s perspective, there is no need for concern about employees’ safety regardless of the fact that they’re working with 5000 pound giants. Furthermore, all responsibility from a resulting “accident” should rest solely on human error. Even though their claim is blatantly preposterous and illegitimate, they continue to dictate the circumstances of work expectations and, after accidents, courtroom dealings. Regrettably, it took the death of a renowned coworker, Dawn Brancheau, to bring the issue into the limelight.

But even advocates for humane treatment of the captured orcas and the neglected trainers don’t have a tangible solution in mind. The problem is set and in a self-perpetuating cycle. These domesticated orcas have no place to go, as they cannot be released into the wild without an ardent rehabilitation regiment, while their caged interactions are barefaced ticking-time-bombs. It’s a problem without an obvious solution and one that seems to be charging onward.

What Cowperthwaite manages to do best with Blackfish is to not demonize her subject Tilikum. While this could have been a field day for euthanizing the undeniably violent creature, it is instead a case for his defense. As one advocate rightfully says, “How would you feel if you were trapped in a bath tub for 20 years?” Both provocateur and informant, Blackfish highlights out the blood in the water and invites the sharks to swarm. While Cowperthwaite doesn’t strictly call for an up-in-arms boycott of SeaWorld, I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt. As both a moral defense of its subject, an intelligent debasing of the SeaWorld corporation and an elegantly made piece of film, Blackfish walks on water.