Influenced equally by American film noirs of the 1940s and the documentary-style science fiction of Nigel Kneale’s Quatermass stories, Val Guest’s The Day the Earth Caught Fire
(1961) is one of the pivotal British science fiction films. Now fully
restored, the film demonstrates that it’s quite possible to create a
convincingly terrifying end of the world scenario without the need for a
massive budget or CGI spectacle.
The film begins with a man walking through the deserted streets of
London – quite a cinematic coup in itself, conjuring up an unnerving
sense of reality gone wrong. We then flash back to discover what has
happened and find out that ill-advised nuclear tests have knocked the
Earth out of its orbit and sent it moving towards the sun. Initially,
the British public enjoy the scorching weather, but, as the Earth gets
hotter, a state of emergency is declared and scientists search for a
solution.
10 to try
Each of the recommendations included here is available to view in the UK.
The inspired decision made by Guest and writer Wolf Mankiewicz
is to set the film largely in a newspaper office thus immediately
offering a sense of documentary realism which is increased by location
filming at the Daily Express buildings in Fleet Street and the casting
of a former editor, Arthur Christiansen. It’s all very low-key and
unsensational, but this somehow makes it more disconcerting, as if the
sheer banality of the settings makes it more likely to happen.
Ever since the days of silent cinema, filmmakers have realised
that disaster is good box office and what better disaster to set the
tills ringing than the end of the world and civilisation as we know it?
From 1950s science fiction to millennial European angst, apocalypse has
time and again reared its fiery head and attracted the attention of some
of cinema’s finest talents…
When Worlds Collide (1951)
Director Rudolph Maté
When Worlds Collide (1951) poster
“Planets Destroy Earth!” screams the tagline to this 1951 blockbuster, George Pal’s
second science fiction film as producer, and to its credit it fulfils
the promise. Earth is in the direct path of a star called Bellus and
science proves powerless to prevent the collision or the devastation
wrought by Zyra – the planet that orbits Bellus – as it passes us by.
But 40 people can be saved in a rocket shop which will land on Zyra and
offer a future for the human race.
The narrative is shaky and the science even more so, but the special
effects, notably the flooding of Times Square by a tidal wave, remain
highly entertaining and manage to overcome the limitations of the acting
and dialogue. The worlds finally collide on a monitor screen, Earth
flaming like Dante’s inferno as it’s swallowed into the monolith-like
star.
Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)
Director Stanley Kubrick
Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)
Stanley Kubrick’s
blacker-than-black comedy seems increasingly relevant in a world whose
inhabitants seems bent on destroying themselves. Nuclear apocalypse is
initiated by a mad general (Sterling Hayden)
who believes his bodily fluids are being tampered with by communist
subversives while the politicians and top brass sit around debating the
idea of Armageddon. “I’m not saying we wouldn’t get our hair mussed. But
I do say no more than 10 to 20 million killed, tops,” says General Buck
Turgidson (George C. Scott), while the US president (Peter Sellers
in one of three roles in the film) becomes involved in a lengthy
discussion with the Soviet premier about who is the more sorry about the
end of civilisation as we know it.
Meanwhile, the eponymous doctor (also Sellers), inventor of the
Earth-threatening Doomsday Machine, finds the idea of apocalypse
sexually stimulating and the pilot delivering the bomb rides it into
eternity like a bucking bronco. Vera Lynn sings ‘We’ll Meet Again’ as
the mushroom clouds multiply.
The world hasn’t quite ended at the beginning of Geoff Murphy’s quietly devastating film but the people have vanished, all except for the great Bruno Lawrence
as Zac. At first, he can’t process what’s happened, slipping between
bursts of madness and self-pitying despair, but he gradually develops a
way of life.
When he discovers two other survivors – a man and a woman – we seem to be on course for a rerun of the love triangle of The World, the Flesh and the Devil
(1959), but Murphy’s film is far more interested in a study of one
man’s own personal apocalyptic, dreamlike apotheosis, which culminates
on a deserted beach in the face of the awesome beauty and destructive
potential of nature. The ambiguity of the film can strike some viewers
as infuriating but the eerily effective location shooting on the
deserted New Zealand streets offers a potent sense of a time after
everyday life has simply stopped.
The Sacrifice (1986)
Director Andrei Tarkovsky
The Sacrifice (1986)
Andrei Tarkovsky’s
final film is a stark, sober corrective to the hysteria of some
end-of-the-world blockbusters, dealing with not only the possibility of
apocalypse but also the aftermath of its non-appearance. In a series of
long, lingering takes and profoundly moving images captured by
cinematographer Sven Nykvist, Tarkovsky tells a story of Alexander (Erland Josephson),
an agnostic aesthete, who, upon learning that the world is doomed to
nuclear destruction, makes a deal with God that he will sacrifice
everything he loves in his life if the inevitable can be reversed. When
he wakes the following morning, all is normal again and he must fulfil
his side of the bargain.
There’s a potent feeling of spiritual isolation here but also a sense
of transcendence and healing, particularly in the character of Little
Man, the hero’s son, who is mute right up until the final moments. Nor
is it depressing to watch; the intellectual turbulence behind what was a
final statement by the dying Tarkovsky is endlessly fascinating.
When the Wind Blows (1986)
Director Jimmy Murakami
When the Wind Blows (1986)
Based on the Raymond Briggs graphic novel, When the Wind Blows
offers a very British apocalypse in which an elderly couple, Jim and
Hilda, live their everyday lives in the face of nuclear war with the
Soviet Union. They follow the advice of Protect and Survive,
whitewashing their windows and constructing an “inner core”. When the
missiles strike, the couple survive but find that they are the last
remnants of civilisation. They maintain their everyday routine in the
face of despair but are eventually worn down by isolation and radiation
sickness. Jimmy Murakami’s
film, simply but elegantly animated, is one of the grimmest, most
heartbreaking films about nuclear Armageddon simply because it is so
fundamentally parochial in its concerns. The couple’s heroism lies in
their unassuming courage and sustaining love despite the impending
tragedy. Particularly powerful is the suggested contrast between the
memories of the moral certainties of the Second World War and the insane
randomness of Mutually Assured Destruction.
The Book of Revelation is rich fare for those with a taste for weird
visions of catastrophe and many films have referenced it. But none have
taken it quite so literally as Michael Tolkin’s The Rapture,
which concludes with scenes which come straight from the pages of the
Bible. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse appear, the shackles of
prisoners fall, the trumpets sound and darkness falls upon the world.
The film is blisteringly powerful and disturbing, centred almost entirely upon a painfully credible performance from Mimi Rogers
as Sharon, a former swinger who becomes a born-again Christian upon
being told that the final judgement is nigh. But things go wrong and
we’re left with a film that raises more questions than it answers. The
final scene, showing spiritual and physical desolation, is cruelly
logical in its implications about exactly who “the chosen ones” might
be.
Last Night (1998)
Director Don McKeller
Last Night (1998)
Last Night is
perhaps the quietest of all films about the end of the world, offering a
naturalistic study of behaviour and relationships in place of bombastic
special effects. We don’t know why the end is imminent but we observe a
group of characters spending their last night on Earth in various ways.
Some people choose family, others choose isolation. Some despair while
others find solace in sex, music or memories.
The exceptional performances – including David Cronenberg
in a rare appearance in front of the camera as the owner of a power
company ringing all his clients to thank them for their custom – give us
a real sense of empathy for these wonderfully normal people whose
resilience in the teeth of hopelessness is inspiring and moving. The
final scene, where love unexpectedly overcomes despair and crowds
celebrate their ultimate destruction, is bizarrely uplifting.
Donnie Darko (2001)
Director Richard Kelly
Donnie Darko (2001)
Richard Kelly’s debut film begins with the eponymous Donnie (Jake Gyllenhaal),
a dissatisfied teenager, being told by a giant rabbit named Frank that
the world will end in 28 days. This spurs him into a journey of
discovery that involves the failures of society and education, the 1988
presidential election, sex and time travel. If this sounds dangerously
incoherent then in some ways it is, but Kelly’s decision to leave the
explanations cryptic means that it is open to various interpretations.
At its most simple, it can be enjoyed as an entertaining mind-game with a
killer soundtrack of 1980s hits.
In terms of the world ending, it doesn’t quite pay off in the way you
might expect. But this is certainly a very personal cataclysm and it
reminds us of a scene in the film version of Graham Swift’s Waterland
when the narrator tells us that the world can end in many ways, “as many
ways as there are people”.
Lars von Trier’s
film is as much about depression and familial relationships as it is
about the planet which is about to crash into the Earth. All the
hysteria and impending doom that we expect from this genre are
channelled into a painfully close study of two sisters, Clare and
Justine, whose roles reverse during the film. At the beginning, Clare is
rational and grounded but as time goes on, Justine’s own persistent
melancholia – also the name of the planet – gives her a sense of calm as
the destruction of Earth begins to seem an inevitability.
Right at the start of the film, we see what is going to happen at the
end and this knowledge casts an ironic shadow over the events we see
portrayed, which are often sharply funny and occasionally wounding in
the case of the behaviour of the girls’ parents. Kirsten Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg
are astonishingly powerful as the sisters and the apocalyptic
conclusion, backed by music from Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde, is madly,
wildly beautiful.
Sometimes people like Curtis in Take Shelter
dream of catastrophe and act to protect themselves and their families
from it. Society might jerk its collective knee and label them mad but Jeff Nichols’ film asks whether we should perhaps give them a fair hearing. Michael Shannon’s
tour-de-force as an ordinary Joe who becomes obsessed with his sense
that something dreadful is about to happen is the centre of the film,
which continually plays with our sympathies – there is a history of
mental illness in his family – but ultimately suggests that the prophet
was right all along.
Throughout, the sense of impending disaster amid the beautifully shot
broad Ohio fields and the endless blue air is compellingly sinister and
the everyday details of a life lived with the burden of foreknowledge
are completely credible. Equally frightening is the sense of a social
infrastructure that’s woefully inadequate to cope with disaster.
Seeking a Friend for the End of the World (Lorene Scafaria, 2012)
The Cabin in the Woods (Drew Goddard, 2012)
The War of the Worlds (Byron Haskin, 1953)
The Turin Horse (Béla Tarr, 2011)
Films about our complete annihilation (or at least the end of
the world as we know it) proved a lively source of debate when we asked
you on social media what we’d missed from the list. There was lots of
love for the 1984 BBC TV movie Threads, which documents an outbreak of
nuclear war between the US and USSR with terrifying veracity. Pipping it
to the apocalyptic post, however, is the 2009 adaptation of Cormac
McCarthy’s novel The Road, starring Viggo Mortensen as a father
struggling to survive after a civilisation-destroying cataclysm. On
Facebook, Joe Penketh wrote: “Can’t believe The Road doesn’t appear on
the list, phenomenal novel maybe adapted a little too literally but
still heartbreaking nonetheless.”
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