You’re probably sick of being told that there’s a pandemic imminent and that we’re all going to die. But what if the virus was much swifter and gorier than the anticlimactic swine flu and the official channels were eerily silent? Bruce Donald’s tense thriller explores that situation via three radio workers caught in a soundproof booth with only listeners’ phone calls to update them about the strange situations developing outside.

Pontypool isn’t quite a zombie film, nor is it exactly a character study of Stephen McHattie’s grizzly DJ. It delves into some wonderfully unsettling territory – the virus is not airborne but transmitted through words. All your favourite phrases are potentially lethal and the English language itself is a dangerous thing. The pacing is good, the acting is strong and by the end you’ll be wishing that Esperanto had caught on after all.