The Vast of Night

We’re told at the beginning of Andrew Patterson’s debut feature The Vast of Night, that its title refers to a 1950s TV show along the lines of The Twilight Zone. The opening shot zooms into a vintage black & white Philco Predicta chassis-style television showing this program’s opening credits as a Rod Serling sound-a-like narrator lays the groundwork. While this might lead viewers to expect one of those retro-movies that mimics the style and form of a film or program from the era in which the story takes place, what we get is entirely different. The Vast of Night utilizes contemporary filmmaking techniques to tell an old-fashioned sci-fi story that subtly intersects with modern thematic concerns.

Essentially a two-hander, though there is a whole town of characters here, the story centers on a fast-talking twenty-something disc jockey named Everett and a fresh-faced, eager young switchboard operator named Fay—played by relative newcomers Jake Horowitz and Sierra McCormick. Though they might seem nerdy and naïve to modern eyes, it’s clear that in this 1950s New Mexico small town, they’re well-liked and respected. Everyone listens to Everett’s show, and when he’s called in to assist with the audio equipment for a big high school basketball game, most everyone treats him like the local celebrity he clearly is.

After dealing with the equipment and teasing Fay for not trying out the reel-to-reel tape recorder she’s just acquired, Everett escorts her to her night shift at the switchboard before heading to the radio station to begin his show. It should be a quiet evening for both of them. This is the kind of small town where practically all residents attend the high school basketball games, so there won’t be too many phone calls to put through or listeners to the radio station, WOTW. The nod to sci-fi history of those call-letters is a nice subtle touch because soon, in the quiet solitary darkness Fay and Everett soon discover a mysterious audio frequency they believe might be of extraterrestrial origin. 

Shot in long, often complexly choreographed takes, The Vast of Night feels like one of those movies that unfold in real-time and is photographed in long one unbroken shot—though it is neither. And while the widescreen cinematography by M. I. Littin-Menz is impressive, this is a rare suspense mystery movie where one could turn off the picture and experience it as a radio play without losing anything that makes the story compelling.

Ultimately, neither the premise nor the resolution is any more notable than what you’d find in a typical ‘50s B-movie or in any of the countless Twilight Zone imitators. What’s special here is the execution. Working from a script he co-wrote (under the pseudonym James Montague) with Craig W. Sanger, Patterson creates a riveting, immersive, tight little ultra-low-budget sci-fi period piece that is equally effective when viewed alone at home or at a crowded theater (or a drive-in, as the case may be since the COVID-19 lockdown made this tiny release a minor hit during the 2020 summer drive-in resurgence).