MOTHER MORTAR, FATHER PESTLE (or the nocturnal panic of 2008)

A film, in celluloid, described in this way:

The sun disappears. Is it a result of an astronomical disturbance or is it an act of god? The two sides face off, but the spokes-people have problems of their own. The theologian is having trouble with his sedan, the homeless man with homeland security. The religious woman may worry herself into the hospital, while the secularist can’t find an audience. The government tries to keep up appearances and the gods try to make a dent in their busy agenda. Although the dying landlord will go to a better place, no one has made much of an impression that the geologist can note in his study of an indifferent universe. By the time the dust settles and the sun reappears, no one is more exhausted than they were before, some have gone, some have gone to jail, and we all go on perhaps to have learned that perspectives are fallible, relative and of minimal importance in geologic time.

OR if you prefer:

a sweaty, claustrophobic noir and a weekend seminar on the irrelevance of human achievement in geologic time. And a 4-night-step program seeking to correct the behavioral dysfunction known as “religiambition.”