King of the Cruise: NZIFF Review

Sophie Dros' short-running documentary about a character on a cruise ship appears to many as a paean to a world we can no longer currently experience thanks to Covid-19.

But set aside the fact this captures the mundanity of life on a cruise vessel thanks to shots that take in cleaning and drone racing for the masses, and King of The Cruise is at its heart, a tragic look at a man trying desperately to achieve a connection.

That man is Scottish baron, Ronald Busch Reisinger, one of the richest men in the world.

However, as the old adage goes money can't buy you happiness, and Dros' documentary sees him cut a lonely figure on a ship filled with couples or with people looking for a good time.

The morbidly obese Reisinger is a tragic figure, a man who will consume vast quantities of food purely because he likes it - but will never seem to share a meal with anyone due to people giving him a wide berth.

Dros' film never mocks Reisinger, nor does it put him in the position of being a target for others, but with grandiose statements falling from his mouth, there gradually becomes a feeling of wanting to know how much is true. Dros never really gets to the nub of the man, nor does she follow up some of his claims - she's more interested in seeing how others react around him.

And it's a sad indictment of human life, and the growing lack of connection human beings have.

Some take selfies with Ronnie on the dance floor, but feign interest in him; others appear to turn the other way in corridors; Dros' eye for the tragedy of humanity is sharp, and weirdly never confrontational or judgemental. Detached she may be initially, but toward the end, the camera's peering eye into Reisinger's life is uncomfortably sad and bittersweet.

That leaves an unpleasant feeling at times - a bittersweet sadness for Reisinger but also an insight into our own failings. From the fripperies of the excesses of the cruise to the banality of some of the conversations, King of the Cruise proffers some poignancies at times (it's hard to not be moved by Reisinger's comments of how people have changed dealing with him over the years) as well as a great deal of empathy for a character you'd be auto-tuned to not want to sympathise with.

It's hard not to feel for Reisinger but it's even harder to feel like cruising is a soulless shallow enterprise - and that this one man is looking for life and even love in the worst possible places.