When I'm watching films at film festivals, I usually hate the post-show Q&As. I rarely want to know what the director intended, because, you know, I’ve just seen it, and I have even less interest in what other audience members saw. Why would anyone be interested? More often than not, the questions seem to do no more than reflect the obsessions of the questioner, leaving you with the impression that you feel that everyone else seems to have missed the point of the film - except you! Clever old you!
But things are different on stage, facing those questions, as I am now, occasionally presenting my film “We’re All Going To Die”. Now these sessions are, if not an actual joy, much more enjoyable than cramping up with anxiety once again to sit through the film one more time. It’s actually a relief.
I certainly don't mind irrelevant questions that reflect the questioner’s unhealthy obsessions. In fact I prefer these to the thoughtful questions that perceptively point out the many flaws in my work. Who has time for valid criticism these days? Like everyone, I’m much more comfortable dwelling on other people’s problems.
So, in preparation for another Q&A tonight (with a panel of much more capable answerers) at ACUD Macht Neu in Berlin for the latest screening, I’ve formulated some answers to the questions I've been asked most frequently:
Was the film meant to be funny?
Seems like a straight yes or no, but there's so much to discuss. The short answer is yes, but the more important question would be: Why do you ask? What do you think the film was meant to be if it wasn't meant to be funny? What an abject display it must’ve seemed to you if you if you didn’t dare laugh. I can't decide whether the fact that many people have asked this question after watching the film is a sign of its success or failure.
Are you a prepper now?
No, I'm not. I don't have a cellar full of cans, pickles or guns. I haven't invested in gold. I don't maintain a BOB (Bug-Out Bag) or an EDC (Every-Day Carry) or ever check the German government checklist for what I should keep in the house. Nor do I own a shortwave radio or a special spade that can cut holes in the earth to make a fire or poo into. I have neither the means nor the skill to shoot a squirrel to eat it.
Arguably the film's existence makes this obvious. If I'd wanted to become a prepper I never would've made a film about it. I would've just retreated to a remote shelter to grow my cabbages. The best preppers never tell anyone that they’re preppers (it’s called the “grey man” principle - preppers have a lot of jargon.)
Indeed, I was never interested in prepping itself, and more in what it says about us and our society that more and more of us want to become preppers.
But I do have a First Aid kit under my sink now.
Do you feel better now? Do you feel less anxious about the prospect of societal collapse now that you've made the film?
Yes. The feelings expressed and the narrative that guides the film are more or less genuine, though heightened occasionally. I began five years ago, both increasingly concerned about the rise of fascism, the rise of the oceans and spreading circle of death all around.
Now I understand that though this feeling is rational and valid, it is also a part of being human, and especially a part of being a human in the most privileged part of the empire. The apocalypse is both banal and a symptom of privilege. Besides, there's a sense that many of us share that a little collapse would do many of us good. Gives us perspective, you know. The bigger picture.
Why did you make a film? You're not actually a film-maker, are you?
I'm not. It was only after I started making the film that I realized I didn't have the first idea about what I was I doing. And possibly I would never have made one if I'd've known how difficult and expensive it was going to be. But at some point I started, so then I had to finish it. Just to save myself from embarrassment. Once I'd told literally everyone I knew that I was making a film I couldn't very well stop, could I?
I live in a city in the developed world, how should I prepare for collapse?
It depends entirely on how seriously you take the threat. Some of the people in the film literally believe that their lives are in danger every time they set foot in the urban centres of the western world, such is their heightened awareness of the precarity of modern supply chains. A power outage of just two weeks in Berlin, for example, and the demons would be loose.
Should I have children?
It is terrifying to me that you should think I might have an answer to that. I don't think bringing new humans into this world is an act of cruelty, and nor do think deliberately not having children is a selfish act of genocide either.