Apocalypse-cinema is not only the end of time that has so often been staged as spectacle in films like 2012,<em>The Day After Tomorrow</em>, and <em>The Terminator</em>. By looking at blockbusters that play with general annihilation while also paying close attention to films like<em>Melancholia, Cloverfield,</em> <em>Blade Runner</em>, and <em>Twelve Monkeys</em>,<strong>this book suggests that in the apocalyptic genre, film gnaws at its own limit</strong>.<br><br><strong>Apocalypse-cinema is, at the same time and with the same double blow, the end of the world and the end of the film.</strong> It is the consummation and the (self-)consumption of cinema, in the form of an acinema that Lyotard evoked as the nihilistic horizon of filmic economy. The innumerable countdowns, dazzling radiations, freeze-overs, and seismic cracks and crevices are but other names and pretexts for staging film itself, with its economy of time and its rewinds, its overexposed images and fades to white, its freeze-frames and digital touch-ups.<br><br><strong>The apocalyptic genre is not just one genre among others: It plays with the very conditions of possibility of cinema.</strong>And it bears witness to the fact that, every time, in each and every film, what Jean-Luc Nancy called the cine-world is exposed on the verge of disappearing.<br><br>In a Postface specially written for the English edition, Szendy extends his argument into a debate with speculative materialism. Apocalypse-cinema, he argues, announces itself as cinders that question the &quot;ultratestimonial&quot; structure of the filmic gaze. The cine-eye, he argues, eludes the correlationism and anthropomorphic structure that speculative materialists have placed under critique, allowing only the ashes it bears to be heard.