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.
