I have even less time than usual to post about the best film that I saw yesterday, but I wanted to make at least some small statement about it, because it left a mark on me that I haven’t quite been able to shake.

One way to pitch Chris Smith’s Collapse is to call it “Errol Morris’ Winnebego Man.” In essentially filming an extended interview in a bunker-like room with independent reporter Michael Ruppert, Collapse instead plays more like a deeply unsettling monologue, in which Ruppert lays out a compelling, convincing, and terrifying argument that the recent faltering of the world’s economy is only the beginning of our problems. Years ago, he predicted that economic collapse. Now, his primary focus is the problem of “peak oil.”

Ruppert has been labeled a “doomsday outcast,” but he scoffs at the notion. He explains himself in this way: “I don’t deal in conspiracy theories. I deal in conspiracy fact.”

Without giving too much away, what makes Collapse even more powerful is the realization that the title has two meanings. Like Ben Steinbauer’s Winnebego Man, this is ultimately the story of a bitter man who has isolated himself, and been isolated, from society. That we have previously watched him express himself with such intellectual precision, with such emotional passion, only adds to the film’s sense of sadness and doom.

Yet having said that, Ruppert gives a rousing call-to-arms at the end, explaining that when the shit does indeed hit the fan, we can’t start freaking out. The world is about to change seismically, there’s no doubt about it. We need to take a deep breath, tap into the power of our minds, embrace the concept of community, and ride it out.

— Michael Tully

Tags: Chris Smith, Collapse, Errol Morris, Michael Ruppert, Winnebego Man