They hear voices in a lonely night: a frantic call, an unseen caller, an elderly woman with an impossible story.
And something else, a sound without a comfortable explanation.
The film concerns a young disc jockey and a teenage switchboard operator who become aware of a possible extraterrestrial presence in a small town in the late 1950s. Imagine a time-warped indie director made Close Encounters of the Third Kind as an episode of The Twilight Zone. Andrew Patterson filmed his feature debut in 2016 in Whitney, Texas, spending about $700,000. It would not be completed (after extensive post-production) and released until 2019, when it became a film festival hit, and bounced around a few theatres before landing on Amazon Prime.
It begins with a framing device suggesting we're watching a Twilight Zone knock-off called Paradox Theater. We fade into Cayuga, New Mexico, and follow the preparations for the big game at the high school, and then walk with our protagonists the length of the town as they head to work. I see some merit in the gradual setting of the stage and the exploration of the film's central relationship, the friendship between young radio Everett Sloan and his protégé, the part-time operator Fay Crocker (a sixteen-year-old could get such a job in the late 1950s, especially in a small town). But in this film, it's mostly unnecessary. And to demonstrate it isn't necessary, I asked someone who hadn't seen the movie to watch it as I rewatched it, skipping seventeen minutes from the opening frame to Fay's arrival at her station. It works. Most of what we need to learn we pick up later.
Fay's compelling, isolated scene at the switchboard feels like the start of the movie. As for the town, we see all we need (including something in the sky) in the extraordinary sequence that follows, one that unveils the night. A careening, travelling camera takes us from the switchboard to the basketball game and over to the radio station where we hear... Things.
We hear a lot in this film. It plays like a wedding of radio drama with sharp visuals. The Vast of Night's sound design matches and exceeds anything I've encountered in films with several times the budget.
The movie's low-budget effects work. The lighting, in particular, serves the movie, which relies on suggestion rather than overt presentation. The film builds an intense, suspenseful mood that leads to... An entirely predictable conclusion.
The Vast of Night, however, isn't about that conclusion. It concerns the journey that takes us from a small night in a small town to a cosmic mystery, both terrifying and wondrous. Flaws notwithstanding, Patterson's inventive debut establishes him as director whose future work I eagerly await.
Directed by Andrew Patterson
Written by Andrew Patterson and Craig W. Sanger
Videography by M.I. Littin-Menz
Sierra McCormick as Fay Crocker
Jake Horowitz as Everett Sloan
Gail Cronauer as Mabel Blanche
Bruce Davis as Billy
Gregory Peyton as Benny Wade
Cheyenne Barton as Bertsie
Mark Banik as Gerald
Adam Dietrich as Rodkey Oliver
Mallorie Rodak as Susan Oliver
Mollie Milligan as Marjorie Seward
Ingrid Fease as Gretchen Hankins
Brandon Stewart as Sam
Kirk Griffith as Lon Stemmons
Nika Sage McKenna as Daisy Oliver
Brett Brock as Fred Seward
Pam Dougherty as McBroom/Winifred/Jane
Brianna Beasley as Ethel
For whatever reason, Andrews used his name as director, but originally wrote and produced under a pseudonym, James Montague.