2014, Northern Ireland. For Christmas, a man named Paul receives a box of DVDs of Jacques-Yves Cousteau films that he adored as a child. In a nostalgic rush, he sits down to watch them - and is horrified. "I'm not easily shocked, but these movies should be labeled 'Adult Only' or banned altogether," he writes angrily on Tripadvisor. Paul recounts a few episodes that particularly struck him. The most heartbreaking: while chasing a group of sperm whales, Cousteau's ship strikes and maims a young one with its propeller. After several unsuccessful attempts, the crew finally manages to finish the animal off. The sailors tie the sperm whale's corpse to the ship, lure a pack of sharks to it and film the predators devouring their prey. Then, discussing what aggressive creatures sharks are, members of Cousteau's crew throw harpoons at them, drag them out on deck and finish them off.
"After that, the whole box of discs wants to be thrown away: it's just nauseating," Paul concludes. Other forum users agree with him: "Good thing I didn't see this series as a kid," "Yeah, and a marine life advocate," "I think this is going to make me reevaluate the whole Cousteau legacy..."
The figure of Jacques-Yves Cousteau is really much more contradictory than his screen image of a kind-hearted and wise ocean explorer. It is even strange that uncompromising and grasping in life Cousteau remained in the memory of the audience not as a sea wolf, but as a nice grandfather with a kind smile.
1932, Indochina.
The training ship of the French navy, the Joan of Arc, is sailing around the world. Jacques-Yves Cousteau, a twenty-two-year-old artillery officer, is on board with a Pathe handheld video camera, which he bought as a teenager with his pocket money. For him, a recent graduate of a nautical school, this is his first real voyage, but he is much more attracted to the exotic landscapes and the pearl fishermen he videotapes. One afternoon, in the heat of the day, he witnesses a strange scene. Vietnamese fishermen dive off their boats without rocks, harpoons or other special devices - and emerge with fish caught with their bare hands. The swimmers explained to the interested Frenchman that "while the fish have a siesta, they are very easy to catch.
In later interviews, Cousteau enthusiastically said that this conversation was a turning point in his life. Falling in love with diving as a teenager, he first saw that this activity can be beneficial, and decided to improve their already remarkable skills of scuba diving. True, the lessons had to be postponed for several years: to convince the Navy commanders that the diving is useful in naval purposes, it turned out not at once, and the service did not leave time for training. All the while, Cousteau had dreams of the inexhaustible wealth of the sea. Returning to France in the late 1930s, he once again went scuba diving, firmly believing that this occupation has a great future.
1943, Paris
Members of the collaborationist government of Vichy, which came to power after the Nazi occupation of France, and officers of the German commandant's office watch a unique new film. The documentary "At a depth of 18 meters" is dedicated to underwater hunting and filmed below sea level - before it was just technically impossible. It was made by diving enthusiasts Jacques-Yves Cousteau and his fellow sailors Frédéric Dumas and Philippe Taillé, who jokingly called themselves "the musketeers of the sea". The film is well received and wins a prize at the First Documentary Congress.
To shoot underwater in an era when even our customary goggles were rare, the "Musketeers of the sea" had to invent everything on the fly, from the design of breathing apparatus and diving suits to protective boxes for cameras. The most brilliant invention of Cousteau, who led a small film crew, was the aqualung, a lightweight, safe and effective device for breathing underwater. He created it during the filming of "At 18 meters depth" in collaboration with the French engineer Emile Gagnan, and tested it after the premiere. Cousteau was very pleased with the results of the test dives: unlike the then existing bulky diving suits, the aqualung allowed him to move easily underwater in any direction. "It was as if in a dream: I could stop and hang in space without leaning on anything, without being tied to any hoses or tubes. I had often dreamed before that I was flying with my arms and wings spread. And now I was really soaring <...> I imagined a diver in my place, moving with great difficulty with his bulky galoshes, tied to a long gut and clad in a copper cap <...> A cripple in a foreign country!" - Cousteau recalled in his joint book with Frederic Dumas, In the World of Silence.
From underwater hunting camera crew also did not refuse. So, for the first time diving, Cousteau caught a dozen lobsters at a depth beyond the reach of the average diver, and cooked and ate them the same day on shore. He later recalled that in Nazi-occupied France in 1943 it would have been wasteful to neglect so many free calories. However, Cousteau was clearly not a man affected by all the horrors of war: it was said that he benefited from the patronage of his older brother. Pierre-Antoine Cousteau had long supported fascism and during the occupation headed the extreme right-wing weekly Je suis partout. In addition to anti-Semitic propaganda, it also published rave reviews of Custeau Jr.'s film; in Paris it was believed that the filming was financed by the Germans, although there was no direct evidence of this then or now.
Be that as it may, Cousteau's official navy salary was small, and during the occupation he had to feed not only himself but also his family: his young wife Simone and two young sons. In addition, in Marseille, where he was sent back in 1941, it was difficult to find accommodation. In a letter to Philippe Taye, Cousteau complained that they had to squat not even in a boarding house, but in an annex to a boarding house on the outskirts of the city. "Comfortable apartments will only be available when we kick all these filthy kikes out of the door," he summed up.
It is difficult to say whether Jacques-Yves Cousteau was as staunchly anti-Semitic as his brother: according to journalist Bernard Viollet, who discovered and published this letter by Cousteau in 1999, the oceanographer's words were a typical expression of "ordinary anti-Semitism, in which France at that time was simply bathed. In addition, there is reason to believe that he supported the Resistance and carried out intelligence activities against the Italians - apparently, this is why he was awarded the Military Cross after the end of World War II. One thing is certain: whatever his political views, he was willing to cooperate with anyone for the sake of his favorite business - scuba diving and shooting films - without hesitation.
1949, south of France
After the war, Cousteau showed one of his underwater films to Admiral André Lemonnier, then chief of staff of the French Navy. The admiral was impressed and quickly realized that the films could be used for underwater reconnaissance. As a result, Cousteau finally succeeded in getting the French navy to establish an underwater research group. It was created in Toulon, and the team was led by the "Musketeers of the Sea". In parallel with their service, the friends were not shy about offering their services to anyone they could convince: for the government they cleared French bays of unexploded bombs, and for the oil magnates they explored hydrocarbon deposits in the Persian Gulf. These commissions helped keep the little crew afloat, but for Cousteau making money was never an end in itself. His dream was to develop oceanography - the science of the world's oceans and their inhabitants.
Cousteau's research reached a new level in 1950, when he got his own ship - a decommissioned minesweeper of the British Navy, which Jacques-Yves called "Calypso". The money to buy back and refurbish the Calypso was given by Irish millionaire Thomas Guinness, an acquaintance of Simone Cousteau, who was attracted by the diver-enthusiasts' daring idea. After receiving a three-year leave of absence from the Navy without pay, Cousteau plunged headlong into his work. Graduating only nautical school, he never called himself a scientist, but it did not stop him: in the fifties Cousteau was actively involved in the work of research institutes and even created new ones. So, in 1953 he created the Centre for Advanced Marine Research in Marseille (where they made submarines for research), in 1954 he joined CNRS - French National Centre for the Development of Science - as captain of a support ship, and in 1957 he became director of the Oceanographic Museum of Monaco (a position he held for about thirty years). At the same time, Cousteau's approach to ocean exploration was pragmatic to the point of predation. "For scientific purposes," he could allow members of the Calypso crew to break off pieces of coral reefs or jam fish with dynamite. The researcher explained that while the use of dynamite in commercial fishing was illegal and considered an act of vandalism, it was the only way to "make an accurate count of all the species inhabiting a given area."
1965, Côte d'Azur.
American television producer David Wolper comes to Cape Ferrat to work on a new video made by Cousteau and his crew. Six "oceanauts," including Captain Cousteau himself and his 24-year-old son Philippe, spent three weeks at 100-meter Mediterranean depths in the manned underwater station Precontinent 3. The explorers breathed a mixture of oxygen and helium, experimented with growing edible plants under artificial light and, of course, filmed the underwater world on video.
It was Cousteau's third attempt to prove that humans could live underwater. All three were successful, and each successive one was more daring than the last. During the first expedition in 1962, the "oceanauts" spent a week at a depth of 10 meters in a dwelling made of a giant cistern, nicknamed "Diogenes. Operation "Precontinent-2" in 1963 lasted a month; two underwater houses were at a depth of 11 meters and 27.5 meters. The first, in the shape of a starfish, was for living, the second for research. It was much more comfortable than the Diogenes: the five-room "star" house had air conditioning from the surface, one could watch the fish swimming by from the cabin windows, and champagne was served to the table (though it did not bubble because of the pressure).
These fantastic projects could compete with space exploration, both in the excitement surrounding them and in their cost. By the way, Cousteau convinced French oil companies to partially finance the project. The researcher raised the other part of the money by signing a contract to make a documentary about the Precontinent 2 expedition. The resulting 93-minute film, "A World Without Sunshine," in 1964, was awarded the second in the life of Cousteau's "Oscar.
The director hoped that history would repeat itself with Precontinent 3, but he could not find a distributor in Europe for a new film. So as a result, the films made during the expedition became part of the National Geographic TV project produced by David Wolper. He also suggested to Cousteau a new idea: "to travel around the world on his ship for the American series". As part of a contract with the world's largest television network American Broadcasting Corporation Cousteau pledged to remove the 12 one-hour program about his adventures over three years. The project was called "The Underwater World of Jacques Cousteau.
It seemed that the world was just waiting for a documentary series about the ocean depths: Cousteau's show was breaking all records of popularity, and three years after his TV debut he became the fifth in the top 250 TV stars of America. His collaboration with ABC lasted nine years instead of the planned three, after which he went on to make documentaries about the sea for the Public Broadcasting System and cable television. Calypso's voyages from Alaska to Africa were followed by millions of viewers. An entire generation - the so-called first generation of color television" - saw the underwater world through the eyes of Cousteau.
In the 1960s, the filmmaker and oceanographer achieved everything he dreamed of. His sons grew up and supported him in all his endeavors, especially the younger one, Philippe, who was like his father in both his passion for the sea and his love for the camera. Cousteau himself was known and loved on every continent. Even governments listened to his opinion. The authority of Cousteau - then director of Monaco's Oceanographic Museum - was enough to convince Charles de Gaulle not to organize a nuclear waste dump in the Mediterranean Sea. Life seemed to justify his approach: assertive, passionate, uncompromising. It was an approach that took him to the top, and Cousteau had no intention of stopping. He did not yet know that the way forward was the way down.
1988, Paris
Despite the decline in business and research, Cousteau's authority as an animal advocate reaches a peak. The famous anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss recommends Cousteau for admission to the French Academy, the country's most prestigious scientific institution, for "defending the oceans. The recommendation is heard, Cousteau is accepted, awarded with a crystal sword with nautical patterns and, like all academicians, officially proclaimed "immortal" (because they create for eternity).
Over the last fifteen years, Cousteau gradually became more and more zealous advocate of nature. In 1973 the researcher founded the "Cousteau Society" in the United States, the idea of which was to combine oceanographic research and the conservation of seas and oceans - particularly marine mammals and coral reefs, which Cousteau had so cruelly treated in his youth - for future generations, and the French twin organization "Cousteau Foundation" (since 1992 - "Team Cousteau"). By the end of the 1980s, Cousteau was perceived not only as "the most famous Frenchman in the world," but also, in the words of one of his biographers, journalist Axel Madsen, as "the conscience of the planet.
In 1988, shortly after his election to the Academy, he traveled to Washington. It was there that the Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resources was being discussed. Had the document been adopted, Antarctica would have become a world mine: the Convention allowed the treaty countries to extract minerals there. The 79-year-old ocean explorer spent a week in endless meetings with government officials, from the Press Club to the Senate. As a result, the Convention was not adopted, and three years later - and again not without Cousteau's participation - the Madrid Protocol on the Protection of the Antarctic was signed. This document, supported by representatives of 45 countries, banned mining in the Antarctic region and declared the protection of the Antarctic environment an important factor influencing international decision-making in this geographical area. The Madrid Protocol is still in force and is considered one of the most significant victories of the "green movement" in the world.
In defending the Earth from the detrimental influence of humans, Cousteau went so far as to agitate against humanity. The idea was first voiced in 1988 at a speech to the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency: The oceanographer wondered what would happen if the world population reached 15 billion people and came to a disappointing conclusion: even if the problems of hunger and access to drinking water were solved, it would only highlight the problem of lack of living space. In an interview with the UNESCO Courier in 1991, Cousteau was even harsher. Without political will and investment in education, it is not worth fighting suffering and disease, he said, or we could jeopardize the future of our species. "The world's population must be stabilized, and to do that we must destroy 350,000 people every day. This is so horrible to think about that we don't even need to say such a thing. But the overall situation in which we find ourselves is deplorable."
Cousteau was acrimonious and harsh not only toward humanity as a whole, but also toward members of his family. When Simone died of cancer in 1990, he didn't grieve long: Only six months later he formalized his relationship with Francine. And one of the last major events in his life was the trial against his own son in 1996. Then the elder Cousteau deprived the younger one of the right to use the family name in his own business projects. He was forced to rename "Cousteau Resort", opened in Fiji in the summer of the previous year, in the "Resort of Jean-Michel Cousteau. A year later, in 1997, the elder Cousteau died quietly of a heart attack just two weeks after his 87th birthday. His organization, Team Cousteau, and his fortune were taken over by Francine.
Final.
2020, Turkey.
The former minesweeper and research ship Calypso is rotting in a shipyard near Istanbul. The captain's widow, Francine, who now heads Team Cousteau, has promised many times to repair it and launch it, but it has stalled. Malicious tongues talk that she had no intention of restoring the ship that her rival once reigned supreme.
In 2016, a feature film about Cousteau's biography, The Odyssey, came out, an attempt to show the famous explorer as a complex and controversial man that went almost unnoticed. In 2019, National Geographic announced plans to release a documentary about the famous French submariner. "Team Cousteau has given permission to use his archival footage, but will be watching closely to see exactly what makes it to the screen.
Cousteau's children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren have become hostages to his cause: they all head for-profit and non-profit organizations involved in marine conservation, underwater research and videography. The two Cousteau family lines have no relationship between them. When speaking of their great ancestor, they prefer to emphasize his contributions to the preservation of the world's oceans, and describe their relationship with him discreetly and respectfully. "You can't say that Jacques Cousteau was a simple man or that he was easy to live with," says his son Jean-Michel in a 2012 interview, "but he was incredible. "
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