Resident Orca
(Canada, 97 min.)
Dir. Sarah Sharkey Pearce and Simon Schneider
A previous mainstay of family summer break getaways, marine wildlife amusement parks have fallen out of fashion due to the growing concerns surrounding animal welfare. While we may have delighted as kids in watching dolphins fly out of the water in unison, as adults, we acknowledge the cruelty of their captivity.
Recently, the Miami Seaquarium made headlines when calls grew louder to release Lolita, an orca captured in 1970 in Penn Cover, Puget Sound, Washington and the last Southern Resident killer whale in captivity. During the spring of 2023, the Seaquarium announced that Lolita, or Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut, as the Lummi Nation refers to her, would be returned to her natal waters under human supervision, thanks to the financial backing of Indianapolis Colts owner Jim Irsay. Unfortunately, before the move took place, Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut passed away from renal failure at the Seaquarium.
In Resident Orca, filmmakers Sarah Sharkey Pearce and Simon Schneider document the efforts made by the Lummi Nation, in particular elders Squil-le-he-le (Raynell Morris) and Tah-Mahs (Ellie Kinley), to return Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut to her home, and the tense few days when her health rapidly declined.
When chronicling the final days of Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut’s life, Resident Orca operates as a taut thriller. The camera moves swiftly as the film’s subjects interrupt their interviews to take calls providing updates. Pearce and Schneider commit to film the unease and sadness of those receiving the information, as well as the frenetic pace at which the situation evolved. Although many will know the fate of Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut going into Resident Orca, Pearce and Schneider effectively create an unwavering pressure that emphasizes the unease and concern at that time.
By contrast, Pearce and Schneider lay out Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut’s captivity with meaningful patience. Squil-le-he-le and Tah-Mahs act as our guides throughout the film, relaying the history of Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut and the practice of capturing animals in the wild for public amusement. Most importantly, the two offer audiences the opportunity to truly understand the significance of Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut to Lummi Nation and how her captivity has pained their community.
Stitching these two elements together, Resident Orca takes a holistic view where one elevates the other, translating into a documentary that fully understands its subject and why it’s important to capture. For completeness, Pearce and Schneider even consider the antithesis to the film’s premise, presenting the idea that perhaps everyone has been projecting their own desires and pains onto Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut.
Although the man who captured Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut contains no regrets for his actions and their consequences, Resident Orca serves as a reminder for the strength and necessity of change and growth as a society. Many of us participated in the bygone era the film observes, which enlivens the message it seeks to spread: in order to right the wrongs of our past, we must release the bonds that restrict our way of observing the world and how we interact with nature and the land. Better later than never.
Resident Orca has its Canadian premiere at Planet in Focus Environmental Film Festival on Oct. 20.
