The "plot" unfolds on a whaling ship, at Nagasaki Bay. The prologue presents a Japanese woman preparing two delicately wrapped packages with krill fossils -a crustacean whales feed on. The camera then travels above a wooded mountain range to reach the modern city and the bay. A festive parade is underway, headed by a tanker transporting the liquid Vaseline that will be used to fill the metal container assembled on the deck of the whaleboat. The shape of the mould represents Barney's symbol: an oval shape bisected by a bar. Björk and Barney board the whaler. In alternated images,
Amas [ 2 ] dive into the sea searching for oysters and, in a shady setting, a woman, her back decorated with strings of pearls that hang from her hair, plays a "sho," an ancient Chinese instrument (sheng) that has been adopted by the Japanese culture. Björk bathes, and Barney is groomed by the barber on board. The fishermen practice throwing harpoons, and catch a whale-shaped stone. Whilst the Vaseline solidifies in its mould, the main characters, in the same room but separated by a golden screen, are dressed ritually in fur kimonos, to then be united in a Shinto wedding. The tea ceremony sequence is used to construct a brief dialogue in which the host, an old man, explains the origin of the herb used and the history of the whaler. On the deck, the Vaseline sculpture is dissected. A storm breaks out. The sculpture, stripped of its metal mould, starts losing consistency. The water and the Vaseline flood the boat. The lovers, left alone, start to mutilate themselves mutually. Surrounded by Vaseline and water, they hack each other's legs in actions that are reminiscent of cutting a whale's body, with "special effects" that degenerate into vulgar B-series gore. To top this technical faux pas, we see how under the back of Björk's neck there is a ridiculous pump... Meanwhile, the stone-whale, which was used on the deck for other enigmatic rituals, disintegrates. In the end, the vessel enters the icy polar waters. A wake surrounds it suggesting the presence of two cetaceans... the lovers perhaps? An
ama opens her mouth and two pearls fall out, dropping to the bottom of the sea forming intertwined circles. The platform of a jetty cracks and sinks. This is the summary of what we watched.
We were supposedly watching a cinematographic piece. That is to say, a plot, a story line and a discourse. In this sense, from the moment the title of the film appears on screen, with the letters simulating the sharp blades that slit the skin of the back of a whale, it seems as if we are contemplating an unquestionable environmentalist plea. Evidently: nobody would think of dignifying whale hunting at this point. Yet -and without considering the pompous discourse on restriction-liberation the artist has constructed around the series Drawing Restraint -, the "official" information speaks of a tribute to Japanese culture.
The tribute is made evident in the introduction to the film, when we hear the song Gratitude, with lyrics taken from letters sent in 1946 by Japanese citizens to General Douglas McArthur in appreciation for lifting the veto on Japanese boats whaling in Antarctic waters. This took place slightly over one year after the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings, and the reference in Drawing Restraint 9 would recognise Japanese stoicism in view of North American cruelty... Yet, did Barney really mean to pay tribute to the Japanese culture by referring to one of its most odious practices?
The consumption of whale meat became popular in Japan during and immediately after World War II, since it was a cheap source of protein. Nevertheless, this country has been exerting major pressure in favour of the liberalisation of whaling since the establishment of the international moratorium on this activity in 1986, adducing that the consumption of this meat is one of their ancestral cultural characteristics. In fact, Japan seems to seek protection in an agreement from 1987, which allows whaling for "scientific purposes," to carry out a buoyant business of clandestine hunting. Björk's nationality is a curious detail: she was born in Iceland, a country that practices whaling and that abandoned the International Whaling Commission in 1992 in protest against the moratorium.
Summarising, it is impossible to remain indifferent to the image of a whaler. It must mean something. Yet, what is Barney trying to tell us? Is his cinematographic fantasy, apart from a formal fiasco -except for those static images turned into acceptable photographs-, also an absurdity from the perspective of the plot? Either this artist is incredibly simplistic, and is blind to the implications of the wicker with which he has woven his work, or his "tribute" to Japan -carried out with the support of one of the most salient Japanese contemporary art museums, the Kanazawa museum- is a poisoned sweet. A malicious knife wound that is worthy of ovation.
Translation: Laura F. Farhall