hamzabear This is the type of slow-burn horror movie that relies on excellent storytelling and good acting, rather than jump scares or special effects. A compelling story that hooks you and doesn't let you go.

Kozeniewski Last week I had the opportunity to see "I'm Dreaming of a White Doomsday," the first feature-length film from friend, roustabout, and director Mike Lombardo. I'm pleased to report that the film is an unqualified success in every way.Clocking in at a lean 71 minutes, the movie is tight and almost every minute of the running time is devoted to ratcheting up the tension. As such, the plot is bare bones. An unexplained apocalypse has left the planet a nightmarish deathscape, and the air breathable only through a gas mask. Three survivors: a mother, father, and their eight-year- old son have taken shelter in some sort of fallout bunker. When the father never returns from a supply run, the mother tries to get by and finally, after a series of impossible decisions, plans to give her boy the merriest Christmas circumstances will allow.And aside from the ending (which will leave even the most jaded viewer saying "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus") that's about it for the story. The rest of the movie is comprised of flashbacks, dreams, and visions (or are they?) There are only five actors in the movie and they all do yeoman's work, but I'd be remiss if I didn't point out the contributions of Hope Bikle, in the role of the mother. All of the actors are outstanding, but the mother has the most screen time and the biggest emotional gamut to traverse. Many of the scenes are just an examination of her face, sometimes behind a gas mask (!), trying to work out what to do in an impossible situation, putting on a brave face for her son, and almost always screaming soundlessly inside. Not once did I find her wanting. Not once was I bored or anything less than riveted. A stunning achievement for a film made for $10,000.Perhaps most interesting to me is I don't think baby Jesus, Bethlehem, "the reason for the season," or a single religious icon was ever mentioned or shown. This is as purely secular as a Christmas movie can be, which is certainly a deliberate decision. This film is a Hiroshima bombing which ends "The War on Christmas" with an unquestionable victory for commercialism; a feature-length answer of "Never" to the question "When are we going to put Christ back in Christmas?""I'm Dreaming of a White Doomsday" is a bleak, suffocating throat- punch of a movie, destined to become a new holiday staple. (How about playing this on repeat for 24 hours instead of Ralphie, TNT?)

sorrylessletters Good writing is what gets you through a coffee break. Great writing is what gets you through everything else. Mike Lombardo's talented pen proves quite adept at achieving both. His latest work is proof positive that when talent meets passion . . it's a fire starter, because he is bringing some serious heat with this tale. I'm Dreaming of a White Doomsday marries the traditional plate of merry with an unconventional serving of horrific splendor. Told from a seat at the table inside the end of times, Doomsday leads us on a journey where hope exists in earnest sips. At the onset, we're introduced to a young family struggling to survive an apocalyptic event inside the din of a bomb shelter. Inside this world of black and white conclusions, the three attempt to color up their future in more hopeful palettes; buoyed by a yesterday whose promise seems a fleeting, wicked tease. Inside the misery of horrible consequences, Lombardo sprinkles seeds of hope: A father's promise to his young son reads like a sonnet. A mother's vow to return from the wreckage feeds us with the warmth of stolen days. And then there's Santa, trudging through the wasteland in his gas mask, fending off the inevitable tides whilst lugging a sack of mysterious yuletide. Doomsday reminds us why cinema will never go away. Because there is a magic to the gathering swell of strangers who lose themselves inside the whispers and hush of magical stories. Stories like this.

tomanddawnclark 10 Cloverfield Lane meets Black Christmas, with a side helping of The Mist. The last four minutes of this movie will stomp your childhood into little pieces. It makes The Road look like a feel good, family film. This movie is so bleak, emo kids could theoretically get more depressed watching it. It really needs to have a series of disclaimers or warnings. For example: If you watch this with your children, DSS should take them from you. Or... Do not watch this with any sharp objects nearby, or while under the influence of depressants. With all that being said, I loved it.