I walked out of the screening of “The End of the Line”
feeling deeply uneasy. Most of my discomfort had been carefully
orchestrated by the film’s director, Rupert Murray, who filled the 80
minutes with straight-talking scientists and image upon image of wild
fish being violently removed from the ocean.
Fishermen stabbed endangered bluefin tuna (left) in roiling pools of bloodied water. Giant trawl nets scraped across the ocean’s bottom, decimating coral and seaweed in its wake, leaving pounds of wasted sea life to be tossed back over the side of the boat. Then there was the sheer number of industrial-size factory vessels, crawling ominously over the surface of the ocean with their highly precise tracking systems, often blatant disregard for quotas, and the ability to catch several times the number of fish remaining in the ocean below them.