The Vast of NightThe greatest thrills come not from answers, but from questions, spurred by the mysteries that dwell within the void of our universe. The Vast of Night is a science fiction thriller set in Cayuga, New Mexico circa the 1950s. The film is framed to resemble a television broadcast of a "Twilight Zone"-esque show called "Paradox Theater", complete with opening credits narrated by a surrogate Rod Serling. Two young citizens of Cayuga--a smooth radio DJ named Everett (Jake Horowitz) and a young phone operator named Fay Crocker (Sierra McCormick)--overhear a strange sound over the radio and telephone lines. While trying to make sense of it, they become tangled in an enigmatic web of ominous tales, all about the mysterious "people from the sky" and their equally mysterious motives.
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After watching The Vast of Night, my first impulse was to listen to the satirical sci-fi radio podcast, "Welcome to Night Vale". This is meant as a compliment, because The Vast of Night is fully tuned into the frequency of "desert science fiction/horror", in the same way "Night Vale" coyly subverts it. One could draw a line to this collective discomfort all the way back to Roswell--coincidentally also in New Mexico--and the infamous UFO incident of 1947. In the wake of World War II, Americans were disquieted at the horrors that seemed to flank them from across the oceans--the Axis powers of Japan and Nazi Germany--and the atrocities that were discovered in the aftermath. From there, the only place left to look in tense desperation was into the night skies, and whatever beings lurked in the shadows of space, and those that might be quietly manipulating us from on high. This is the paranoid anxiety in which The Vast of Night is steeped, even in comparatively placid moments of innocence and peace, like the preparations underway for the local high school basketball game, which promises to attract almost the entire town. It is in this prelude where the audience is introduced to Everett and Fay; Everett strides confidently through the gymnasium, attracting the attention of many, including Fay, enthusiastic to get her start in amateur broadcasting with her brand new tape recorder. The Vast of Night moves with a deliberate pace, most evident in these early scenes. This is not a movie that will jump out at you with cheap thrills or cheesy monster costumes. Instead, it maintains a consistent simmer of tension and unease--from the lengthy monologues by those describing their experiences with the "people in the sky", or the sly tracking shots that make it appear that some force stalks the streets of Cayuga like an old god or other being beyond the realm of our comprehension.
The Vast of Night is emblematic of what makes a movie revolutionary, ironically by embracing its limitations while also distracting its audience from some of the unfortunate earmarks of the "indie movie". There are precious few moments where there is any visual evidence of aliens; the film deliberately avoids calling its extra-terrestrials as such, preferring to obliquely refer to them as "people in the sky". And because of scenes designed to build tension--like Fay's work on the phone board--there are very few sets to manage. Those that are present are intimate and simple, which adds to the ambiance. It is evident that The Vast of Space is no Hollywood blockbuster, but then again, aren't those movies often all too predictable? They never really satisfy one's appetite for something special that stays with you long after the credits roll. The Vast of Night is framed like it were an episode of "Paradox Theater", but it achieves something more by making it appear that we, the audience, are watching it from an old-fashioned television set, and are absorbed into the images on the cathode ray tube television set. In this way, The Vast of Night is a kind of "movie within a movie", something that might have crept through the static-ridden UHF channels of yesteryear--a forgotten fistful of celluloid. Like "Paradox Theater", the transmission Everett and Fay pick up is something that--because it is riddled with static and other corruption--sounds like something forbidden...not for human consumption. (This brings to mind another unnerving science fiction classic about destructive and invisible media signals, namely Videodrome.) Radio and telephone communication is a major part of The Vast of Night, to an extent that it would not surprise me to hear that the movie was originally designed to be a radio play. (There is also an element of "A Prairie Home Companion" to the movie, from the small town setting to the folksy, rural vibe of the characters.) The film intimates that language itself has the capacity to control us at a fundamental level, with or without our understanding of what is being said. Consider when Everett and Fay visit an elderly woman named Mabel Blanche (Gail Cronauer), first seen reciting a series of gibberish words which she claims were uttered by her son as he would stare off into the night skies. Language itself--or the dialogue in The Vast of Night, really--is primarily used to establish tone. Everett carries on with people in a thick, Southern drawl; Fay observes that he abandons it when he is on the radio. Fay herself prattles on at high speed when she excitedly tells Everett about the wild inventions in the future yet to come--like pocket-sized television/telephone combos. (Just imagine!) Their conversations with the townsfolk of Cayuga and each other is largely empty small talk or inconsequential to the plot itself, but it is a kind of "white noise"--the "pulse" of the small, dusty town. While most everyone else is at the basketball game, this becomes a golden opportunity for those mysterious agents in the sky to set their inscrutable plans into motion. And because Cayuga is relatively abandoned, it makes Everett and Fay's adventure seem like a waking nightmare--the kind where you find yourself in an abandoned town, and something is watching you. Only in this case, what's watching our heroes is us.
Recommended for: Fans of a nostalgic brand of science fiction, one that pays homage to "The Twilight Zone". The Vast of Night explores themes of language and media in a nuanced way--as a hypnotic force capable of depriving us of our free will, wielded by unscrupulous forces beyond our comprehension.
The Vast of Night is emblematic of what makes a movie revolutionary, ironically by embracing its limitations while also distracting its audience from some of the unfortunate earmarks of the "indie movie". There are precious few moments where there is any visual evidence of aliens; the film deliberately avoids calling its extra-terrestrials as such, preferring to obliquely refer to them as "people in the sky". And because of scenes designed to build tension--like Fay's work on the phone board--there are very few sets to manage. Those that are present are intimate and simple, which adds to the ambiance. It is evident that The Vast of Space is no Hollywood blockbuster, but then again, aren't those movies often all too predictable? They never really satisfy one's appetite for something special that stays with you long after the credits roll. The Vast of Night is framed like it were an episode of "Paradox Theater", but it achieves something more by making it appear that we, the audience, are watching it from an old-fashioned television set, and are absorbed into the images on the cathode ray tube television set. In this way, The Vast of Night is a kind of "movie within a movie", something that might have crept through the static-ridden UHF channels of yesteryear--a forgotten fistful of celluloid. Like "Paradox Theater", the transmission Everett and Fay pick up is something that--because it is riddled with static and other corruption--sounds like something forbidden...not for human consumption. (This brings to mind another unnerving science fiction classic about destructive and invisible media signals, namely Videodrome.) Radio and telephone communication is a major part of The Vast of Night, to an extent that it would not surprise me to hear that the movie was originally designed to be a radio play. (There is also an element of "A Prairie Home Companion" to the movie, from the small town setting to the folksy, rural vibe of the characters.) The film intimates that language itself has the capacity to control us at a fundamental level, with or without our understanding of what is being said. Consider when Everett and Fay visit an elderly woman named Mabel Blanche (Gail Cronauer), first seen reciting a series of gibberish words which she claims were uttered by her son as he would stare off into the night skies. Language itself--or the dialogue in The Vast of Night, really--is primarily used to establish tone. Everett carries on with people in a thick, Southern drawl; Fay observes that he abandons it when he is on the radio. Fay herself prattles on at high speed when she excitedly tells Everett about the wild inventions in the future yet to come--like pocket-sized television/telephone combos. (Just imagine!) Their conversations with the townsfolk of Cayuga and each other is largely empty small talk or inconsequential to the plot itself, but it is a kind of "white noise"--the "pulse" of the small, dusty town. While most everyone else is at the basketball game, this becomes a golden opportunity for those mysterious agents in the sky to set their inscrutable plans into motion. And because Cayuga is relatively abandoned, it makes Everett and Fay's adventure seem like a waking nightmare--the kind where you find yourself in an abandoned town, and something is watching you. Only in this case, what's watching our heroes is us.
Recommended for: Fans of a nostalgic brand of science fiction, one that pays homage to "The Twilight Zone". The Vast of Night explores themes of language and media in a nuanced way--as a hypnotic force capable of depriving us of our free will, wielded by unscrupulous forces beyond our comprehension.