Directed by Thom Eberhardt | Starring Catherine Mary Stewart, Kelli Maroney, Robert Beltran
The apocalypse has never looked so good.
Night of the Comet is a gloriously weird slice of 1980s cinema that dares to ask: what if the end of the world came with shoulder pads, zombie mall cops, and a killer synth-pop soundtrack? This is the kind of film where the fate of humanity rests in the manicured hands of two valley girls armed with Uzis and a complete disregard for subtlety. And it works. Beautifully.
If George Romero had a sleepover with John Hughes and they decided to remake The Omega Man after snorting Pixy Stix, you might get something like Night of the Comet. It’s a cult film for a reason—because it’s too fun to die.
The Plot: A Comet, Some Dust, and a Whole Lotta Dead People
The Earth is passing through the tail of a comet, and the world is throwing a party to celebrate. Too bad the comet’s real gift isn’t fireworks or glowing skies, but instant human vaporization. Anyone caught outside gets turned into orange dust. Anyone inside steel enclosures survives. Everyone else? Well, they’re not dead… yet—they’re mutating into red-eyed cannibalistic ghouls who look like they shoplifted from the Thriller video.
Enter Regina Belmont (Catherine Mary Stewart), a movie theater usher and arcade wizard, who wakes up after a night in the projection booth to find the city eerily quiet and covered in piles of clothes and ash like a laundry explosion in hell. Her younger sister Samantha (Kelli Maroney), a cheerleader with a perky attitude and surprisingly solid trigger discipline, also survives thanks to a steel shed and some well-timed teenage angst.
Together, they do what anyone would do in an apocalyptic wasteland: they go shopping.
And then they fight zombies, evade a creepy government facility, flirt with a hunky trucker named Hector (Robert Beltran), and basically carry the entire weight of humanity in their fashionable, feathered-hair heads.
The Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves (and Humanity)
Regina and Sam are what make this movie tick. Catherine Mary Stewart gives Regina a tough, capable presence—she’s a mix of Final Girl grit and mall rat nonchalance. She can shoot a gun and roll her eyes at the same time, and she knows how to handle a zombie and a joystick with equal confidence. She’s basically Sarah Connor if Sarah also read Cosmopolitan.
Kelli Maroney’s Sam, on the other hand, is pure 80s energy: all bubbly sarcasm and valley girl cadence, but with just enough vulnerability to make you root for her. She has one of the best monologues in teen horror history—a rambling, cheerfully homicidal fantasy about her sister stealing her dream guy. It’s like Heathers, but with fewer corpses (initially).
Together, they’re an oddball dream team. You believe they love each other. You believe they’d kill for each other. And you believe they’d look damn good doing it.
Zombies, Scientists, and Other Minor Issues
The film does feature zombies, but they’re almost an afterthought. These are the slow-rotting, chain-wielding, half-mad remnants of those unlucky enough to be partially exposed. They’re creepy, sure, but also kind of pathetic—think sad mall Santa on meth.
More insidious are the scientists from a secret underground bunker who realize too late that their fancy air filters didn’t work, and now they’re slowly dying while still conducting experiments like everything’s fine. One of them is Mary Woronov, whose dry wit and dead-eyed calm scream, “Yes, I’ll kill a teenager, but only if I don’t have a meeting.” These are your classic government goons with clipboards and no souls.
The Aesthetic: Apocalypse With Lip Gloss
Let’s be honest—Night of the Comet is more about style than substance, but oh, what style. The deserted streets of L.A. are bathed in eerie red filters and neon glow. Shopping malls become battlefields. Abandoned radio stations become post-apocalyptic bachelor pads. And every scene is dripping with that uniquely ’80s combination of pop music, bad decisions, and hairspray.
The film balances its tone like a drunken gymnast. One minute it’s a lighthearted romp through an abandoned department store—complete with a soundtrack that’s one John Hughes short of a mixtape. The next, it’s reminding you that almost everyone on Earth is dead, and the survivors are being hunted by people with decaying brains and questionable hygiene.
But it never loses its sense of fun. It’s the end of the world, but at least there’s still music.
Dialogue That Deserves a Comet of Its Own
The script is full of quotable gold:
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“The stars are up, Daddy. It’s time for the E.T. people to come.”
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“You were born with an asshole, Doris, you don’t need Chuck.”
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“Let’s play a game. It’s called Scary Noises in the Dark.”
It’s absurd and occasionally brilliant. You don’t expect sharp one-liners in a movie that also features zombie stock boys with lead pipes, but Night of the Comet is full of surprises.
Final Thoughts: Apocalypse Now (With Shopping Bags)
Night of the Comet is a cult classic that earns its stripes with a rare blend of charm, camp, and post-apocalyptic sass. It’s funny without being dumb, creepy without being grim, and feminist without being preachy. It’s also probably the only movie where survivors celebrate humanity’s near-extinction by trying on new outfits and dry-humping to rock ballads.
It’s not high art, and it’s definitely not scary in the traditional sense. But it is pure 1980s movie magic—a genre-bending mashup that still feels fresh in its own ridiculous way. If you grew up in the ’80s, it’s a time capsule. If you didn’t, it’s a masterclass in how to end the world with style.
Final Score: 8.5/10
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+2 for Catherine Mary Stewart’s badass energy
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+2 for Kelli Maroney’s ditzy-killer combo
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+1.5 for neon apocalypse aesthetics
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+1 for the most cheerful use of Uzis in cinematic history
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+2 for being fun, weird, and unapologetically itself
Whether you’re into B-movies, mall culture, or just looking for a good time at the end of the world—Night of the Comet is the best comet-based apocalypse you’ll ever have.
