What would happen if Garth Marenghi's Darkplace got a nasty bump on the head and woke up thinking it was Black Mirror?
The high concept premise of Await further instructions is actually a bit of a lark; take the opening scene from an episode of Casualty, where a stilted ensemble sketch out one dimensional characters and relationships. Then, just when grandma would have accidentally ignited the calor gas cylinder to roast an unsuspecting family member, substitute in an alien invasion.
People, we got a movie right here!
Poundland Jason Isaacs plays a sneeringly psychotic patriarch who's effete son brings back a minimally ethnic girlfriend, much to the chagrin of irredeemably racist grandfather. Minimally ethnic girlfriend isn't having any of his old-timey Price-Philipping though and stands up for herself by monotoning her way through a few turgid facebook updates about equality, before sitting down.
There's tension too between effete son and furrow-browed idiot sister, she has an inferiority complex due to being inferior, but she is at least loved and protected by her manly(?) baby daddy, played here by Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel.
Poor, long suffering, much simpering, martyr-mother rounds out the group, attempting to keep the peace by whimpering like a kicked dog.
When the house is inexplicably encased in some form of packing material, paper thin characters meet unconvincing scissors and shoddy carnage ensues.
There is, undoubtedly, a version of this premise which could make a tight and gripping, if somewhat unoriginal thriller. This, however, fails to be that film by every conceivable measure.
