As sirens wail to warn citizens that missiles are flying, the inpatients of a large mental institution, along with a few of the facility's administrators, take cover in a massive subterranean bomb shelter. After the bombing has subsided, it becomes clear that the person entrusted with remembering the code which opens the door has, in fact, forgotten it. The life-saving bunker is now a prison, and that prison will ultimately serve as a tomb for those inside. As days roll by, all attempts to communicate with the outside world fail. Stabilizing medications for the less docile patients run dry, and mounting tensions give rise to a fiery power struggle.
**spoilers**
The doors ultimately do reopen, and the survivors step into a lifeless, ruined world. They realize that they are what's left of humanity, and that they'll be free to govern themselves as they see fit...once the authority figures have been duly exterminated.
This beggarly slice of near-future cynicism was long thought lost, or at least inexplicably unattainable, having never seen the world beyond its native Australia. It's not a particularly exciting rediscovery, quite honestly, though it's certainly no worse than a lot of junk which somehow manages to achieve wide distribution(if only in a home-viewing capacity). It's passably superintended where the various rudiments of production are concerned, but very talky and poorly paced, and it's scored with the infernal noise of an inharmoniously partnered bass guitar and church organ. Too, it fails to effectuate a mien of global catastrophe, and opts to focus squarely on a few people from a very large group, the rest of whom serve as little more than nameless background filler. This might have worked more efficiently as a short subject, but at feature length it feels diffused and unfurnished, and seemingly determined to put forth some nebulous sociopolitical message(as did many sci-fi films of its time).
4/10...at the ass-end of average, and likely to remain obscure.
