A Damn Fine Cup of Culture

Welcome to Six Damn Fine Degrees. These instalments will be inspired by the idea of six degrees of separation in the loosest sense. The only rule: it connects – in some way – to the previous instalment. So come join us on our weekly foray into interconnectedness!

The end of the world is fertile ground for moviemakers. From the thrills of endless zombie attacks to the bleak landscape of John Hillcoat’s adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, the big screen has embraced stories where the end could not be more final.

One of my favourite films in this genre though is one of the most low-key, but also one of the most final. This isn’t a story where there’s a glimmer of hope we’ll survive, but its also one without monsters, spectacular cataclysms or even a depressing insight into the worst of humanity.

Instead we follow a number of characters in the last six hours of Earth. It’s a planet resigned to the fact that the world ends at midnight. We never learn what is destroying the Earth, it’s just presented as an unavoidable conclusion to absolutely everything. Society is fraying, but it hasn’t collapsed – and it’s more a story of what people might do to occupy themselves before the inevitable end.

The greatest strength of this film is that it feel credible. There’s a reality to how everyone is reacting, resigned to the end that is frequently not the case. Some characters seek to indulge themselves, ensuring they meet every milestone before the world ends. Others embrace nostalgia, holding a fake Christmas as the family gets together. We even get those who choose to go to work – the director David Cronenberg features as a man dedicated to calling all a gas company’s customers to thank them for their custom before the end.

What stops the film from being simply a collection of set-pieces are the two characters who connect it all together. The director Don McKellar also stars as Patrick, a guy who seems especially bitter and sarcastic, the origins of which proves to be one of the film’s highlights. Meanwhile Sandra Oh stars as Sandra (keeps things simple I suppose), a woman who had planned a fine meal and suicide pact with her partner. Unfortunately when out collecting supplies her car gets trashed, so she finds herself stuck, struggling to find a way home.

Both their stories are beautifully melancholic. Sandra’s frustration that she cannot be with her partner at the last possible moment they could be together is heartwrenching. When this then means she imposes on Patrick’s plans for a lonely last night, their shared story gives an interesting sci-fi story scope to explore grief and loss.

I won’t say too much more, as the strength of the film is to experience these last hours with all the main characters. This is how I experienced it, in the cinema on its original release, and I left pretty much blown away, emotionally spent and never quite able to hear Pete Seegar’s “Guantanamera” in the same way ever again. But that initial experience has drawn me back to it time and again over the years. It’s the yardstick by which I judge all low-key apocalypse movies, and I haven’t yet watched one that quite matches it.

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