Nathalie Bibeau is a director and producer of international award-winning productions. She began her career at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, producing documentary projects such as “8th Fire,” which was nominated for the Canadian Screen Awards, “Africa on the Move,” which won the Gemini for Best Documentary Series. She was the series director for CBC’s seven-episode documentary “Back in Time for Dinner.” Bibeau was a key member of the producing team for Michèle Hozer’s feature film, “Sugar Coated,” which premiered at Hot Docs 2015, was nominated for three Canadian Screen Awards, and won the Donald Brittain Award for Best Social and Political Documentary.
“The Walrus and the Whistleblower” was scheduled to screen at the 2020 Hot Docs Canadian International Film Festival. A digital version of the fest has been organized due to the COVID-19 pandemic. “The Walrus and the Whistleblower” will screen in Hot Docs Festival Online, which will launch May 28 and is geo-blocked to Ontario, Canada. More information about the program and how to tune in can be found here.
W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.
NB: This film is about a whistleblower who falls down the rabbit hole of a personal quest at the heart of a global movement to end marine mammal captivity.
Phil Demers is an over 40-year-old part-time mailman who lives in a bungalow across the creek from Marineland, an iconic amusement park in Niagara Falls, Canada, where he had his dream job as an animal trainer for over a decade. He swam with killer whales and ran the show until he quit and blew the whistle, making claims of animal abuse and calling for an end to the near 60-year-old practice of keeping marine mammals in pools.
Known in the media as @walruswhisperer, Phil has amassed 27,000 followers on Twitter, has appeared on the Joe Rogan show four times, has testified before government, and is being sued for $1.5 million for plotting to steal a walrus.
The film follows Phil as he champions a law to ban the captivity of whales and dolphins, faces a lawsuit entering its eighth year, and spirals around an aching loss of identity. At the heart of the story are questions of compassion for others — humans and animals alike — the nuances of all our stories, and the hills we are willing to die on.
W&H: What drew you to this story?
NB: I grew up just outside of Niagara Falls and Phil was my brother’s best friend growing up. They smoked pot in the backyard and barely squeaked through high school. Activists had been protesting in small numbers outside Marineland for decades, but my only experience there had been to watch the killer whale show when I was a kid in the 1980s. My parents, in fact, still had a picture on the wall of my sister clapping in the stands as a baby.
I was shocked when Phil came out with his allegations in 2012. It wasn’t just what he was saying about the treatment of animals at Marineland and captivity as a whole, it was that this guy — who I still thought of as an adolescent shit disturber — had now triggered a viral international media story and was fighting an epic battle. For years I watched it all unfurl online, until my questions grew loud enough that I had to try and answer them myself.
W&H: What do you want people to think about when they are leaving the theater?
NB: For a film that has so much conflict inherent in it, you might be surprised by the answer. I don’t want people to think too much at all — I want them to feel. And I would be proud if they could feel that we are much more similar than we tend to perceive when we’re embroiled in a battle. We all cling to the narratives we hold dear and we fight for what we believe in.
What inspires me most when I tell stories is courage, conviction, and vulnerability. In this film, people on all sides of the story have that in spades.
W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?
NB: That’s an easy one. The risk. This was the first time I chose to tell a story closer to home, and it involved a giant of a legacy business in my old backyard that had a history of suing people. It’s almost like I had to leave that small town to hone my skills telling stories about other places and other people until I could go home and do that one justice.
It’s strange; within months of getting the film funded, my old high school was torn down and my parents sold the house in which I was raised. Even though my own personal story is not a part of the film, I feel on some level that I was called home to witness the destruction of the past and confront a whole lot of hard questions.
W&H: How did you get your film funded? Share some insights into how you got the film made.
NB: In Canada, we have a funding system that is triggered by a broadcaster license. I was lucky enough to get two licenses, one for a feature film and one for an episode of a science strand called “The Nature of Things.” The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation believed there was enough material to make two films from this story, and with those licenses, I was able to access support from the Canada Media Fund to complete the financing.
W&H: What inspired you to become a filmmaker?
NB: In my early 20s, I had gotten a Master’s degree in Russian history and was working my way toward becoming a diplomat. I then got an internship with the Department of Foreign Affairs in Lithuania, but realized very early on that it was far too bureaucratic for me. So, I left and learned how to pull a great pint as a bartender in Ireland.
After a fabulous year losing myself in musicians and cigarettes, I came home and finally decided to woman up and just tell stories. It’s what I had been doing since I was a kid, in any way I could, but I had been raised to be sensible, and this was not a sensible way to make a living. In the end, though, I went and I found a way.
W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?
NB: They are one in the same. An early mentor of mine said, “You will never get out of this what you put in.”
W&H: What advice do you have for other female directors?
NB: Take your place and own it. Sculpt your vision and dare to fly, fall, get back up, and fight for it.
W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why.
NB: An all-time favorite for me is “Born Into Brothels” by Zana Briski, which won the Oscar for Best Documentary Feature in 2005.
I remember sitting in the pregnant dark space of the movie theater long after it was over. What a gorgeous, visceral, compassionate, and uncompromising film that took an immeasurable amount of grit and grace to create. It was the kind of film I aspired to make.
W&H: How are you adjusting to life during the COVID-19 pandemic? Are you keeping creative, and if so, how?
NB: Full disclosure, it’s been a roller coaster! I’m finishing two films, launching one, and raising two small children who are out of school because of COVID-19. Suffice to say that I have definitely been creating.
