Jacques Cousteau wears his iconic red diving cap aboard his ship Calypso, circa 1970s. Photo / The Cousteau Society
Jacques Cousteau wears his iconic red diving cap aboard his ship Calypso, circa 1970s. Photo / The Cousteau Society
Joanna Mathers talks to two-time Emmy-winning director Liz Garbus about her documentary on the legacy of legend Jacques Cousteau.
Philosopher of the deep, the pipe-toting adventurer, Jacques Cousteau and his crew submerged our 1970s imaginations in a vivid undersea universe. Oh, the glamour of those tanned men calling out in French,red briefs the single modesty on their muscular physiques.
Jacques Cousteau was an icon of his time. The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau was appointment viewing in the late 1960s and early-to-mid 1970s. On Calypso, a former British navy minesweeper, Cousteau and crew explored the ocean's depths, providing viewers with never-before-seen panoramas of life.
Jacques Cousteau on a 1970 dive while filming an episode of The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau. Photo / The Cousteau Society
But as the 21st century lumbered on, Cousteau was in danger of being lost. Generations born after his TV show have no memory of his cultural and ecological value; the grainy footage dated in the age of high-definition. It was this potential loss that underpinned two-time Emmy-winning director Liz Garbus' decision to create a documentary on the man's life, entitled Becoming Cousteau.
On Zoom from New York, she shares the moment when she realised his legacy needed to be resurrected, and celebrated, for a contemporary audience.
"About seven years ago I was reading a book about famous cultural figures to my son, Jacques Cousteau was one of them. It made me think; he'd grown up in a world that was saturated with imagery that had been made possible by Cousteau."
Exploring the filmic archives, Garbus discovered that he'd never been the subject of a documentarian's inquiry. So, she reached out to the Cousteau Society, the marine life conversation organisation set up by Cousteau in 1973 and headed by his second wife Francine Cousteau, to inquire around the possibility of making a work about his life.
The society were custodians of outtakes from the television series, earlier films by Cousteau, unseen footage from the beginnings of his aquatic journey, plus diaries written by Cousteau.
Jacques Cousteau in a diving suit, 1972. Photo / Yousuf Karsh
But gaining access to this treasure trove was no simple feat; it would take seven years from the moment of conception to the realisation of Garbus' dream: the just-released Becoming Cousteau.
The highly protective society would take a lot of convincing. But Garbus' commitment to creating a film honouring Cousteau won out, and she was given the keys to the kingdom: access to the Paris storage facility containing cans and cans of Cousteau footage.
This was transferred digitally and would provide Garbus with extremely rich pickings.
Told through Cousteau's own words, taken from his diaries, interspersed with the memories of others that shared his journeys, Becoming Cousteau is a sensual delight. The footage is primarily Cousteau's own, he is a remarkable cameraman and he comments that film-making is the only talent that he feels he can own.
Cousteau's early life was spent as a gunnery officer in French Navy and he hoped to become an aviator. But when both his arms were broken after a car accident, another path would emerge, when, as a form of therapy, he joined friend Philippe Tailliez and later writer Frédéric Dumas, in deep-sea diving.
This world was to become Cousteau's overriding and lifelong passion - one that would open up the possibilities of ocean exploration: he developed the "Aqua-Lung" in 1942 (the first mainstream self-contained underwater breathing apparatus available to the mainstream market) and in 1950 purchased Calypso as a means for dedicated exploration of formerly untapped riches.
The experiments and explorations were captured on film. The camera was everywhere and much of what he documented was disturbing.
In Becoming Cousteau, we witness the death of diver Maurice Fargues, after descending a record-setting 120m in a deep-diving experiment arranged by Cousteau. There he is, pulled on deck, attached to a device and pummelled in an attempt to extract water from his lungs. Wet, slippery death, flopping on the deck like a fish, in stark monochrome.
There are also animal welfare atrocities. An example: when the crew of Calypso see a school of sharks mauling a baby whale, they catch and haul the sharks on deck, pummelling them to death. It's graphic and brutal, and something an older Cousteau would look back on with regret.
In later life Cousteau would become leading conservationist, making prescient observations around the heating of Antarctic waters, global warming, future ecological collapse.
This is well-known and well-documented (at the world's first Earth Summit he was the only non head of state in the official photograph and the Cousteau Society was a hit with the kids).
But revelations of Cousteau's connection with the oil industry are a jolt.
"I was not aware of the oil industry association before starting the documentary process. The deals he made were a fascinating discovery."
Prior to his television fame, he had little money to travel and keep Calypso on the water. In order to fund his research and adventures, he agreed to take money from oil companies to help them discover the untapped riches lying underneath the seabed. The documentary reveals that many Middle Eastern oil fortune were built on Cousteau's discoveries.
Jacques Cousteau peers out of the porthole of SP-350 Denise diving saucer, 1960. Photo / National Geographic/Luis Marden
Another fascinating discovery is the importance of Cousteau's first wife, Simone. Of French Navy stock, she testifies to having "salt water in my veins instead of blood". The sea was her life.
In the documentary she explains, "I gave him two children, and he gave me the sea." Called "the Shepherdess" by crew members, she was the only woman on board Calypso (considering Cousteau's many affairs and the family he had with later wife Francine while still married to Simone, it's not surprising she didn't allow other women on board).
"I knew nothing about her," says Garbus. "She was probably the most joyous discovery I made while filming. To use an old-fashioned phrase, 'she made the trains run on time'. Often behind great men there are great women - and this was certainly the case here."
Simone died in 1990 and Cousteau married Francine just a few months later. He died in 1997.
Garbus hopes Becoming Cousteau will prove an important reference point for the generations who are now steeped in the knowledge of our precarious world. Her children have certainly enjoyed the discovery.
"They gave the film five stars," she laughs.
"I am so looking forward to the film getting out there and young people seeing it," she continues. "And their parents will be watching it for the nostalgia."
Becoming Cousteau is out in cinemas from October 22.
