So, there was this movie, Night of the Comet, in 1984 or so.
Decent flick about a couple of teen sisters who appear to be the only survivors after a comet turns most of the population of planet Earth to dust. I liked the film. In fact, I probably watched it 30 times...but I haven't seen it again for a long time, to be honest. Years later, I have my misgivings about the whole thing.
I'm willing to accept that somehow both sisters lived...that Sam (the ultra-hot Kelli Maroney) spending the night in the utility shed kept her alive, and she didn't turn into a zombie from the radiation. Fair enough, I'm willing to go there. But the mystery "DMK", the person who frustrated Sam by making the high scores on the video game, also survives, and is a hunky teen boy Sam's age? And he has "DMK" vanity plates on the Mercedes he acquires after the zombie apocalypse? Hope I didn't ruin the surprise ending for you, but that was pretty much it.
I think it made me bitter that Sam was doomed to spend the rest of her life with what was essentially the last single guy on Earth, and she'd spend forever trying to beat this jerk at stupid video games instead of with me, since I was presumably also killed by the comet. It's not fair, dammit.
For me, the most illogical part of the film is what doesn't happen after everyone on Earth dies. The power stays on. The street lights still work. Radio stations still operate (though completely voice-tracked, making the film more relevant than ever).
But what about fast-food restaurants? In Los Angeles, even in 1984, there were 24-hour fast food joints. Stick with me on this. You'd assume that doomed restaurant employees were, at the very moment the comet turned everyone to dust, cooking and preparing food using grills, ovens, and deep fryers. These people vanished. The food did not. And with the power left on this food would burn, these fryers would overheat, and fires would start. With all firemen and police officers dead, these small fires would quickly get out of control. By the end of this film the entire city of Los Angeles should be in flames. It is not. There is nothing on fire, anywhere.
Except my burning lust for Kelli Maroney.
Look. I know it's just a movie. Maybe all these years later I'm just bitter about Sam's ultimately unsatisfying stripping sequence in the middle of the film. In an R-rated cut, it could have been so much better. Luckily (for me) she replicated the scene and got topless about a decade later in Scream Queens Hot Tub Party.
What? You think it wasn't all about the boobs for me? Haven't you been reading this blog?
