8 Days: Giant clichés are hurtling towards the Earth — so sit back and enjoy the chaos

In the German thriller 8 Days, the end is nigh.

The title is a deadline, so the drama doesn’t mess around. It has eight parts for eight days. It feels like a zombie movie without the zombies (fans of flesh-eating videogame jeopardy are directed to Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later, which showed the aftermath of a London in which the congestion charge was no longer required).

What’s up? There’s an asteroid on the way, called Horus. Presumably the system for naming apocalyptic asteroids is like the one that decided to humanise British storms by calling them things like Nigel and Abigail.

Classically speaking, Horus is a god in the form of a falcon with an all-seeing eye, and is generally thought to be a good thing. But the asteroid Horus seems to have a dark sense of humour, because it is going to land in France, making most of western Europe the “kill zone”. Possibly Nigel would have been a more appropriate name.

What does this ending of everything mean? Panic, mostly, but in a way that acts like an upside-down version of our current world, because suddenly everyone wants to get out of Europe.

And, just as suddenly, Europe’s borders have become solid, as the citizens try to flee, and those who can afford it hire smugglers to drive them through the forests to safety, whole motorways are closed, martial law is imposed, and rumours circulate that the German government is trying to seek sanctuary in the United States.

It’s appealingly done, this terrible jeopardy. The impending void prompts looting, candlelit vigils, drinking, the burning of furniture in the street.

Some leading policemen start to reconsider their commitment to a life of rule-taking. There’s a pregnant woman who has thoughts beyond her own safety, and wonders aloud: “How’s our kid going to live if he can’t see the sun?”