The unfolding impact of the internet can be glimpsed, somewhat paradoxically, not only in social media backbiting but also in an expanded social conscience. Over and over, we see examples of issues that were not necessarily ever deeply considered by previous generations framed in a new light, capturing the activist attention and imagination of those who consider themselves global citizens.

The intellectually stimulating new documentary The Last Tourist, now available on-demand and via streaming platforms, throws a light on one such topic: “over-tourism,” and its outsized impact on the environment, on wildlife, and especially on vulnerable developing communities around the globe. In spotlighting how tourists are unintentionally destroying some of the very things they have come to see and celebrate, while also advocating for more responsible travel, director Tyson Sadler’s movie advances the notion of moral tourism. This fairly new concept carries additional relevance in a post-pandemic world, as contemplative parties reflect upon the interconnectedness not only of human life but also of our shared physical environment.

Awarded a Special Jury Prize for Social Impact at the 2021 Calgary International Film Festival, The Last Tourist begins with a brief primer on the advent of mass air travel, then takes a look at how the end of the Cold War set the stage for an explosion in the global middle class over the past four decades. This latter societal and economic shift made more far-flung travel not merely the province of the elite, but something in which hundreds of millions of more ordinary people could engage.

The film then dives headlong into its core examination. Perhaps counterintuitive to what most might think of upon hearing the phrase “over-tourism,” a lot of the most imperiled places are not merely popular cities for international travel, but instead so-called “honeypot destinations,” like the ruins of Machu Picchu, the Great Pyramids of Egypt, or St. Mark’s Square in Venice. The infrastructures surrounding these spots, the movie points out, are not equipped to handle the volume of visitors they receive — especially when people bring with them an indulgent “vacationer’s mindset” in which they consume even more (food, fuel, and other resources) than they do when at home.

While interviewees include noted primatologist, Dr. Jane Goodall, National Geographic’s Gary Knell, World Animal Protection campaign director Melissa Matlow and others, the movie doesn’t fall into the trap of either indulging a “top-down” solution rubric (i.e., experts in the field providing answers to be imposed upon everyone else) or even demonstrating an elite sensibility. The Last Tourist is a well-balanced work that surveys a wide variety of constituencies.

Shot across 16 different countries, the film hones in on three basic narrative pillars. One focuses on the changing mindset of so many travelers, showing how people now choose to visit areas more for gaining status-symbol-boosting Instagram pictures than for having experiences that would broaden their personal horizons. Another significant portion assays the “cruise ship model” of budget-luxury travel, in which typically only around 10 percent of consumer expenditure goes to local economies. This understandably feeds social tensions, because it deprives local populations of economic and cultural space.

The last pillar of the film, deftly interwoven throughout, might be described as a look at the mass tourism centers of Asia, Africa, and South America, which often exist at the intersection of biodiversity, poverty, and indigenous cultures, and are disproportionately affected by the two aforementioned trends. Globe-trotting ”voluntourists” don’t get off easy, however. In one of the film’s most searing passages, it specifically targets the savior complex of largely white travelers who venture abroad to spend time on photo-friendly social-service projects, deeming this type of outreach neo-colonialism. In Kenya, the film shows, 80 percent of children at a so-called “orphanage” actually have one living parent.

If cinema is supposed to be about showing rather than telling, many documentaries, particularly within the environmental sub-genre, struggle to find compelling visual frames for their stories. The Last Tourist, however, is a welcome exception. Its editing, by Jesse Mann, is intuitive and thoughtful, as when the movie intercuts selfie-snapping vacationers with kids jostling to sell candy and trinkets, to underscore its points about the reinforcement of poverty. (Director of photography Stephen Chandler Whitehead was also honored for the film by the Canadian Society of Cinematographers with its Best Documentary Cinematography award.)

The Last Tourist isn’t only a work of doom and gloom. The manner in which it foists (sometimes uncomfortable) questions upon viewers is more thought-provoking than accusatory. True, it lambasts the “disposable engagement economy,” and asserts that much of tour-package travel these days isn’t really travel so much as curated holidays from our own reality.

But the movie also explores how we each, as individual travelers, have the opportunity to integrate more ethical choices into the tourism value chain. By embracing a new, more thoughtful manner of traveling — one that helps protect both places and people — we can hopefully secure a positive future for both host communities and inquisitive, intellectually curious minds for generations to come.