After a test pilot lands his plane, he discovers everyone on the ground is dead. He doesn’t goon out, but rather heads for a motel in a small England village and pours himself a drink. Clearly he has survival skills.
Then other somehow alive douche bags start showing up. It’s theorized that aliens gassed the Earth, killing everyone. So how is it these people still exist?
Lame excuses abound: the pilot was up in the atmosphere where the gas couldn’t get him. Another couple, bored at a party, go hang out in a hermetically-sealed laboratory. Another woman was in an oxygen tent at the hospital. They all stand around until one frantic broad notices two “people” walking through the quaint town: silver-suited robot aliens looking like something you’d pull out of the back of your 1959 television set.
When the woman rushes outside to greet them, they touch her head, said head glows, and she falls down deader than the plot. Her body covered in ceremonial hotel sheets, she later rises from the dead, her eyes all white and zombified. The aliens are making dead bodies get up and then get down. New plan – get the hell outta town.
But first, the pilot has to triangulate (I love that word) where the alien signal is being broadcast. Discovering a radio tower not far away, he goes to blow it up with a box marked “High Hxplosives.” I don’t know what was in it, but clearly the box itself was a weapon of mass destruction. Without signals by which to slowly clunk around, the robot aliens fall over in complete boredom.
Made in 1964, the Earth does not die screaming, it just yawns itself to death.