This short film made me think of both the Strugatsky Brothers’ Roadside Picnic and Campbell’s Music of the Spheres. But also raised a deeper dread: one of being doubly insignificant.
The planet approaches and everything starts to resonate. Destruction looms.
Yet, the items that rise up drop again, suggesting the effect – and thus the planet itself – passes away again. This is no awakening when the stars are right, this is a glance at the clock in the tattered hours before dawn before rolling over. Ghroth has swung toward Earth, yet turned from us again before his song draws our nemesis forth. What would make Ghroth withdraw?
Are we, as Lumley naïvely suggests, protected by some beneficent gods. Or is this the truest cosmic horror, to be unworthy even of accidental destruction.