Excited to be reunited, Alyssa and James get back on the road, where their outlaw status is put to the test.
James and Alyssa make it to her father's place. But after the initial euphoria, cracks begin to show. As the outside world threatens to close in, will James and Alyssa make it as a couple? Angsty Alyssa finds a potential partner-in-crime in James, oblivious to his dark intentions This episode is audio described Very strong language, violence and scenes that some viewers may find distressing This episode is subtitled 18 mins.
Alyssa and James hit the road with a bang, but they soon realise how little they know each other This episode is audio described Strong language, violence and scenes some viewers may find distressing This episode is subtitled 21 mins. The "end" of the "world" is pretty badly defined by most supernatural predictions. The rapture , for instance, is really just the beginning of the end, and signals civilization being sent back to the Stone Age for a bit. During all this The Chosen are whisked up to heaven.
Meanwhile, predictions of the end of the world in were wide-ranging, from a comet just tearing Earth in half the rest of the universe spinning on as usual to the complete and total end of everything ever. The latter is less scary because it's not like anything will be around afterwards to care. In the case of some of the science -based predictions for how the universe will go on according to our knowledge of physics , there's no "end" as such. Matter and energy still exist, but in their lowest energy and most uniform state: the rub being that this state precludes the interactions needed to produce emergent structures.
This includes stars , planets , and intelligent entities capable of experiencing the universe. It is widely believed that there were prophecies in the 10th century CE that the world would end in CE or CE. However, this seems to have been first mentioned by Johannes Trithemius around and popularised in the 17th and 18th centuries by Cardinal Baronius , William Robertson , Charles Mackay , Jules Michelet , and others; sources from the 10th and 11th century show little evidence of a panic. Jump to: navigation , search. But of that day and hour knoweth no man , no, not the angels of heaven, but my Father only.
What's important is the story. That Jesus. Apocalyps in Apocalypsim , he put the date and time at 3 rd October at 8 am. When the world did not end, he was ejected from his quarters and flogged in the streets. Paulk, pp 14— Note that this gives as a predicted date of Armageddon, whereas this was merely the year the prediction was made. Until then it had been purely conceptual, first designed as a semi-abstract cover image for the June edition of the Bulletin, by landscape painter Martyl Langsdorf.
The physicist who extracted the first speck of plutonium from the cyclotron, he profoundly objected to its use in the bomb later dropped on Nagasaki and co-founded the Bulletin as a means of opposing nuclear proliferation. His wife was recruited to design a neat piece of iconography that would cut a clean line through a complex of related technical, political, and ethical issues.
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She initially set the hands at seven to midnight for aesthetic effect. It has never been further from midnight than seventeen minutes in the sunny post-Soviet year of , nor closer than it is right now. In early , the hands were wound to the same position that they last held in , when the United States and USSR detonated their first hydrogen bombs: two minutes to midnight. The device still works, said Bronson, in terms of drawing attention. And young people are just not as focused as a cohort on nuclear weapons, with so many other things to worry about.
'The End of the F***ing World' Soundtrack - EOTFW Music and Score
We need new images to engage and motivate them. And film-makers have a role to play in that, like Stanley Kubrick and Nicholas Meyer did. The former capitalized on the heightened mood of the period—Kubrick himself proposed marketing Dr. But viewing habits and platforms have since changed beyond recognition, and movies about nuclear war were never much of a commercial proposition anyway. No such film has ever been a huge box office hit, unless you count Terminator 2: Judgement Day , in which the war is only rendered as a brief, shocking dream sequence, and the real apocalypse is averted, or deferred.
These explosions turn out to be faked, and the actual weapons are chased down and defused—the last one at the last second by Tom Cruise, hanging by his fingertips from a Kashmiri cliff. These are not films about the end of everything, but about the opposite: salvation, or redemption. At the worst time, the end time, a savior will come. I contacted Broderick, a professor of media analysis, at Murdoch University in Perth, one of the most isolated major cities on the planet. He was famously afraid to fly, and the thought of sharing a bathroom on a six-week sea voyage apparently put him off.
The empty city has been common to these movies since the advent of the bomb, from early s drive-in fodder to latter-day megabudget sci-fi productions such as Blade Runner: Tracking and cataloguing on-screen warheads like a weapons inspector, he has identified other storytelling patterns, and made notes on audience preferences. They also tend to enjoy parables and allegories that take place long after the worst already happened.
People burned to charcoal, glass shearing out of windows to perforate children.
Now if you tried to do that mimetically, in a photorealistic drama, it would be incredibly confronting. This is where Kubrick realized he needed to use humor, to move beyond the human tendency toward denial and disavowal. So, Kubrick ended his movie, and the world, in a musical montage of mushroom clouds.
The End of the World (song by Arthur Kent and Sylvia Dee)
He used original footage shot by U. That perspective—aloof, rueful, ethereal—allows for beauty too. In the course of his research, Broderick has interviewed observers from various bomb test sites, and many told him that they were glad, for lack of a better word, to have seen these things go off. What comes after is horrible burns and sickness, razed cities, firestorms. That attraction speaks to my own fascination with the bomb. My Catholic education never really took—the priests were too vague on the details to make dying sound appealing.
But not in the event of a nuclear war. Only the bleakest film ever made would refuse us even the cold comfort of oblivion and force us to watch the slow, painful expiration of human culture, or what remains of it, over generations of post-war trauma and misery. And that film is Threads The American effort, however, plays like a singalong with Elmo and some Muppet penguins by comparison. Threads was and is something else. Novelist Barry Hines wrote the screenplay with diligent reference to existing civil defense plans, consulting with doctors, physicists, psychologists, agronomists.
Mick Jackson directed in a neutral, neorealist style, reusing some of the material he had used in the popular science program QED: A Guide To Armageddon The threads of the title are the bonds of family, community, society, severed by a megaton missile strike against the UK, as experienced by a couple of lower and middle-class households in the industrial city of Sheffield. It begins with the escalation to conflict in the Persian Gulf, as witnessed by way of nervous glances toward television news bulletins at home or in the pub, and it ends with the daughter of the only survivor delivering a stillborn baby in the depths of nuclear winter, her stunted grasp of language giving way to a final howl.
Everyone who saw it was scarred. Thirty-five years later, Scottish journalist Julie McDowall told me that the broadcast was one of her earliest memories.
The End of the F***ing World
In particular she recalled the sight of glass milk bottles melting on the doorstep of a suburban house. She was three at the time. The world can end, and none of these adults are able to stop it? No one can save me, not even my Gran? McDowall now calls herself the Atomic Hobo, the name also given to her popular podcast on the bomb and its cultural history.
She travels to bunkers and shelters from the farmlands of Scotland to the tunnels under Budapest, reports from the Chernobyl exclusion zone, and records serio-comic editorials on the chillingly banal official literature issued by national defense ministries obliged to misinform their publics that a nuclear exchange would be survivable. I share her preoccupations, and I admire her readiness to talk about how they have affected her mental health. I asked McDowall if immersion in the subject provided any kind of protection. She said that working on the podcast, and a forthcoming book, had merely replaced her sense of terror with a feeling of hopelessness.
Maybe it is?