The post-apocalyptic word is far more awful than Milla Jovovich and her friends camped in an underground bunker while zombies run amok. In the wake of mass death there is only stunned silence, cities jagged and bleached white like the bones of a great animal, the only thing that moves in the shadows is ghosts, the only thing that runs is water. Much like in Lopushansky's Dead Man’s Letters, the horror of war is followed by the long winter of the soul. Cities can be rebuilt, wounds stitched, but the human psyche is not so easily mended. Angel's Egg, like Lopushansky's relentlessly bleak soviet classic, demonstrates a fate much worse than bombs or starvation: too weak to make sense of what has happened, we raise our weapons to that last embryo of hope, and smash it.