Let’s be honest: We all know what happens when a woman hits the 30-year mark (or thereabouts) in her chosen career. She turns into a vampire, and upon forced retirement, bloodily destroys every millennial who is coveting her position and every asshole mediocre-man boss who got away with shit back in the day that you’d at least consider bringing up on charges today. So it goes for Amy Marlowe (Caroline Williams), star radio personality whose show “Ten Minutes to Midnight” is in its final hour. When Amy shows up for work profusely bleeding from some kind of animal bite, not even the threat of rabies can deter her from taking the mic. Director Erik C. Bloomquist (who co-wrote the screenplay with his brother Carson Bloomquist) aims for a gore-drenched commentary on sexism, ageism, gender roles, and sexual harassment in the workplace. They succeed, partially. The problem is that the brothers Bloomquist rely heavily on some of the most egregiously misogynist cliches around: In this world, female colleagues would rather kill each other than work together. Further, it’s tough to say what bothers Amy most, the end of her radio gig or being told by men she isn’t attractive anymore. The emphasis on the latter speaks to an ancient trope rooted firmly in the male gaze: The worst thing that can happen to a woman is being rejected romantically by a man. Still, Ten Minutes to Midnight is an audaciously campy frolic paced like a manic bat-out-of-hell. Over the top? Bloomquist has the cast (and the dialogue) going into the stratosphere. From the two things can be true department: Ten Minutes to Midnight is both a whole lotta fun and annoyingly sexist. C’mon guys. Do better. Or at least, put a woman in the writing room next time.