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Put a John Carpenter-esque hero (grizzled DJ Stephen McHattie) in a George A Romero-type scenario (a zombie infestation engulfing a rural radio station) with a Cronenbergian conceit (the infection is aurally transmitted) and what have you got?
A sizeable advance on director Bruce McDonald’s The Tracey Fragments, that’s what.
Big on atmos, low on incident, this claustrophobic chiller captures the hysteria of a town flailing on the frontline of disaster.
Conjuring an (offscreen) armageddon with just three leads, minimal gore and some alarming soundbites, it’s a lesson in economical filmmaking that only flips from ingenuity to incredulity in the garbled last act.
After their chill fishing game peaks at more than 20,000 concurrents, dev reveals they thought "maybe like 100 people would play it ever"
Doctor Who writer reveals first plot details for the mysterious 2024 Christmas special
Glen Powell has hilarious response to rumors he will replace Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible: "That's the worst gig in town"
