Veteran documentary producer Mark Monroe directs a fascinating account of the infamous 2023 submersible accident, in which five people died on a vessel already deemed unsafe by experts.
Two years ago, a tragedy captured global attention—but not in a particularly compassionate way. The fatal implosion of the submersible Titan during its descent to the deep-sea tourist destination of the Titanic wreck in the North Atlantic claimed five lives, including that of Stockton Rush, co-founder and CEO of OceanGate, the vessel's company. While it took time to confirm his fate, an explanation quickly emerged: in pursuit of fame as a high-tech adventurer, Rush had recklessly led his wealthy clients into a death trap, ignoring (or firing) everyone who told him the vessel he had built was unsafe.
Director: Mark Monroe
Indeed, Rush had previously complained that the US regulations he was circumventing "unnecessarily prioritized passenger safety over commercial innovation." Those were words he lived by and then died by. That interpretation of some very unfortunate events is preserved intact in “Titan: The OceanGate Disaster,” Mark Monroe’s Netflix documentary, premiering at Tribeca.
Moving to a degree, though arguably a bit long, it has the grim suspense of similar non-fiction accounts of catastrophes, such as “The Rescue,” the National Geographic film about the flooding of Tham Luang Cave, without the inspirational angle, nor, of course, the rescue. An equally apt comparison would be Werner Herzog’s “The Brown Man,” as this, too, is a portrait of death by selfish arrogance, in which one victim bears all the posthumous blame.
Not that Rush seems any less confident and capable in the abundant fragments that survive. He clearly relished the public eye and had a cheerful, proactive personality, ready to take charge whenever a camera focused on him. The less flattering aspects of his character are the work of others, revealing a man who "knew he was a genius" (a debatable conclusion), and then "blamed everything on other people" when his judgment proved imperfect. Former OceanGate accountant Bonnie Carl states, "He wanted to be a Jeff Bezos or an Elon Musk... He referred to those guys as morons, and he loved that term." The noblest figure on screen, the company's Director of Marine Operations turned would-be whistleblower David Lochridge, sighs toward the end, saying that Rush "wanted fame, and he got it."
Rush was not the first to attempt luxury tourist expeditions to the Titanic, which lies on the ocean floor approximately 12,500 feet below the surface, some 230 miles off the coast of Newfoundland. But the logistics were difficult, to say the least. His idea was to reduce the vessel's weight and cost by using carbon fiber instead of heavy titanium for the hull structure. The problem was that this composite material had never been used for its intended purposes, much less at such depths. Tiny microphones were installed on the Titan to amplify the sound of the fibers breaking under extreme pressure, to warn the crew of impending danger. We heard some of those recordings, their terrifying effect, like being trapped in a hot can of Jiffy-Pop.
Yet, whether out of financial concerns or simple impatience, Rush refused to take such ominous omens seriously. Overestimating his own experience as an engineer, as well as a pilot (he had nearly stuck another submersible in another famous shipwreck, the Andrea Doria), he deliberately avoided scrutiny by not flagging the Titan to any particular nation. He also refused to have a third party review his safety classification and took advantage of the lack of regulation in international waters.
OceanGate's staff was initially a stellar group who, upon raising the alarm about unaddressed risks, resigned or were fired, in some cases being replaced by inexperienced newcomers and recent college graduates. If Lochridge was the only veteran who tried to avert disaster after his own departure, it is claimed here that it was because Rush, with his extensive resources, threatened to ruin anyone who betrayed the company. (In fact, the boss sued Lochridge, who dropped his claim when faced with possible bankruptcy due to legal fees.)
Of course, Rush is not present to defend himself. His wife Wendy (who was also heavily involved in OceanGate), his children, and some key figures at OG presumably declined to be interviewed. But many former colleagues and observers reveal secrets, including those who testified in the ongoing official investigations.
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