The Death of Radio

Dead Air

Those mean terrorists are at it again, this time coordinating a bio-attack at filled sports stadiums, where people come to drink $15 beers and eat $12 hot dogs to subsidize bloated athlete salaries.

Dead Air

Bumbling the job, a toxin is released from a Thermos™ that should’ve been filled with vodka and orange juice. Once the toxin was sucked into the ventilating system, it was just a matter of time before everyone breathing turned into raving freaks with bleeding eyes, tearing at each other’s throats and ripping each other’s shirts. Yep, sounds like a typical major league sporting event.

Dead Air

Meanwhile, shock jock Logan Burnhardt is on the air, stirring up the airwaves with his own brand of toxicity – his inflammatory retorts. But as the calls come in, he discovers something is not right in his city, and that people are slaughtering each other. Leave it to the TV for validation.

Dead Air

All the other radio stations have switched over to the EBS – Emergency Broadcast System. Not Logan. He wants to be the “voice of reason” while people are calling in and panicking. Logan turns out to be not as tough as his on-air persona, stammering and making upside down faces as he hears all the chaos in the background.

Dead Air

If this sounds familiar, you’re dialed in. It’s almost the same plot as Pontypool (2008), the other disappointing “shock jock on the air while people go nuts” movie. The impression is the entire city is overrun with maniacs (they don’t call ’em zombies), but really, you only see a dozen people attacking a woman, tearing her blouse and exposing her boob. (EBS — Elated Boobie Squeezing. Heh.)

Dead Air

Dead Air (2009) has barely any blood and no entrails being scooped up and worn like steaming scarves, just a lot of angry people with bleeding eyeballs. Slightly better than Pontypool (dumb name for a horror movie), there are dead (sorry) spots that chump the plot’s inertia. That, and all the time spent waiting around for something apocalyptic to happen, and all we get is some moralist pontificating at the end. You can do that on the toilet. And you won’t need a toxin to do it, although high-fiber certainly helps.

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