Don McKellar made a movie in 1998 called Last Night, and honestly, it’s a bit of a miracle it exists. Most disaster movies are obsessed with the "how." How did the asteroid get here? How do we blow up the moon? How do we survive? McKellar didn't care about any of that. He made a film where the world is ending at midnight, everyone knows it, and there is absolutely nothing anyone can do to stop it. It’s quiet. It’s Canadian. It’s deeply weird.
The movie Last Night 1998 remains a cult masterpiece because it skips the CGI explosions to focus on the awkward, messy reality of being a human being with only six hours left on the clock. You’ve got people trying to have the "perfect" final dinner, people trying to complete sex marathons, and people just sitting in their apartments waiting for the lights to go out. It’s relatable in a way that Armageddon or Deep Impact—both released around the same time—never could be.
What Actually Happens in Last Night?
The premise is stripped down. The sun is staying out later and later. It's bright at midnight. We don’t know why, and the characters don't really ask. Don McKellar plays Patrick, a guy who just wants to spend his final hours alone in his apartment with a bottle of wine and some records. He’s grieving his wife and has zero interest in the "End of the World" parties happening in the streets of Toronto.
Then you have Sandra Oh, playing Sandra (obviously), who is stranded and trying to get across town to her husband so they can fulfill a suicide pact. Their meeting isn't some grand romantic destiny. It's just two people who happen to be in the same place when the world is literal minutes away from dissolving.
The cast is a "who’s who" of Canadian indie royalty. You have David Cronenberg—yes, the director of The Fly—playing a gas company executive who is spending his final hours calling every single customer to thank them for their business. It’s chillingly polite. It’s also funny. That’s the thing about Last Night 1998; it manages to be hilarious while being profoundly depressing.
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The Loneliness of the Final Countdown
McKellar captures a very specific type of urban loneliness. In one scene, Patrick’s friend Craig (played by Callum Keith Rennie) is trying to check off every sexual fantasy he’s ever had before the clock strikes twelve. He’s not a monster; he’s just desperate to feel something before he ceases to exist. It’s a frantic, pathetic, and deeply human subplot.
Geneviève Bujold shows up as a teacher who just wants to listen to her favorite music. The streets are filled with a mix of rioters and people just... walking. There’s a scene involving a lonely piano player in the middle of a street that sticks with you long after the credits roll. It feels like a dream. Or a nightmare you’ve accepted.
Why the "No Explanation" Approach Works
Most sci-fi fails because it tries to explain the science. The moment a scientist in a lab coat starts talking about "neutrinos" or "tectonic shifts," the tension dies. Last Night 1998 refuses to give you that satisfaction. The sky is just bright. The end is coming. Deal with it.
By removing the "why," McKellar forces the audience to focus on the "who."
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- How would you treat your parents if you knew you'd never see them again?
- Would you finally tell that one person you love them, or is it too late for it to even matter?
- Does a "suicide pact" even make sense when you're going to die anyway?
The film explores these questions without being preachy. It’s cynical but has a warm, beating heart underneath the grey Toronto exterior. It’s a movie about the importance of companionship, even if that companionship only lasts for an hour.
The Significance of the Soundtrack
Music is a character here. From the "Last Night" song itself to the various records Patrick flips through, the soundscape defines the mood. It’s tactile. You can almost smell the dust on the vinyl. In a world that's about to be vaporized, these physical objects—a record, a bottle of wine, a gas line—take on a holy significance.
Comparing 1998's Last Night to Modern Apocalypse Cinema
If you look at something like Melancholia by Lars von Trier or Don't Look Up, you can see the DNA of McKellar’s work. But those films often feel heavy-handed. Melancholia is a metaphor for depression (and a beautiful one), but Last Night 1998 feels more like a snapshot of reality. It’s less about the metaphor and more about the logistics of goodbye.
The film won the Prix de la Jeunesse at Cannes for a reason. It captured a pre-millennium tension that was palpable in the late 90s. We were all worried about Y2K and the turn of the century, and this movie leaned into that existential dread with a shrug and a smile.
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The Ending That Everyone Still Debates
Without spoiling the exact final frame for those who haven't seen it, the ending of Last Night 1998 is one of the most perfectly calibrated moments in cinema. It involves a rooftop, a gun, and a choice. It asks if human connection is enough to justify the pain of existence.
It doesn't give you a happy ending. It gives you an honest one.
How to Watch and What to Look For
If you’re going to track this down—and you should—keep an eye out for the small details.
- The Gas Company Subplot: Watch Cronenberg’s performance closely. It’s a biting satire on corporate loyalty and the absurdity of "business as usual" in the face of annihilation.
- The Lighting: Notice how the film gets progressively brighter. It’s a reverse of the usual "going into the dark" trope. Here, the end is blindingly white.
- Sandra Oh’s Performance: Long before Grey's Anatomy or Killing Eve, Oh was proving she was one of the best actors of her generation. Her frantic energy is the perfect foil to McKellar’s lethargy.
Last Night 1998 isn't just a movie for cinephiles or sci-fi nerds. It's a movie for anyone who has ever wondered what they would do if they knew the world was ending tonight. It suggests that maybe, just maybe, we wouldn't be heroes. We’d just be ourselves. And that’s enough.
To get the most out of your viewing, try to watch it in a single sitting, preferably at night, with as few distractions as possible. Pay attention to the silence between the dialogue; that’s where the real story lives. After watching, look for Don McKellar’s interviews regarding the production—the film was shot on a shoestring budget, which forced the creative team to rely on atmosphere and acting rather than expensive effects. This lack of polish is exactly what gives the film its enduring, haunting power.