Brad Armstrong has officially become the Michael Bay of porn. He’s cornered the market on the other side of the hill from Hollywood in glitzy, large-scale action pics for the popcorn-and-lube set (we suppose). And with this latest megaproduction’s obvious similarities to Bay’s Armageddon, the parallel is now fully cemented.

Like Armageddon, Countdown zeroes in on a scattering of characters attempting to make the best of their final days as a large asteroid hurtles toward earth, spelling certain doom for mankind. Unlike Armageddon, however—or any other disaster movie we’ve ever seen, for that matter—everybody in this one exhibits an almost hilarious nonchalance about the coming apocalypse.

Newspeople spout off lines in blasé monotone such as, “Los Angeles, Phoenix, Las Vegas and surrounding areas will no doubt be in complete chaos … now we leave you to your regular programming,” while an Obama-esque Tyler Knight matter-of-factly offers the nation presidential advisories like, “We are facing an extinction-level event. In times like these we do not need mass hysteria or rioting. So go home, be with your families … enjoy the little things in life.”

Ridiculous as such a proclamation may seem on the eve of global annihilation, that’s exactly what the various seemingly unconcerned players here do, with a few surprisingly tender moments bubbling out of it.

There first of these involves Kaylani Lei and Xander Corvus nervously admitting their mutual crush on one another, which precipitates a warm embrace, a deep kiss, and then a sweet consummation of their puppy love on the hood of a convertible under the night sky.

Later, in probably his greatest performance ever, veteran non-sex actor Frank Bukkwyd delivers a touching monologue at the grave of his departed lady. It’s one of those ultra-rare instances of genuine poignancy in an adult feature.

It’s nice to see Lezley Zen back in front of Wicked cameras, looking very, very good in her role as an older waitress who makes busboy Seth Gamble’s end-of-days dream come true by taking his virginity right at the counter of the roadside diner where they work—definitely one of the movie’s hottest scenes.

If the Mayan prophecies turn out to have been spot-on and we’re all dust a couple months from now, this is probably not the movie for which Brad Armstrong will want to be remembered (by any beings left to remember Brad Armstrong’s movies), but it’s a reasonably impressive effort nonetheless, sure to pick up some nods this awards season.

What we really want to know, though, is if Brad plans to keep rolling with this Michael Bay thing, when are we getting our Transformers XXX?