Richard Matheson's terrific novel "I Am Legend" has been twice adapted for the big screen. The first adaptation was "The Last Man on Earth," an unsparingly grim'n'gloomy Italian mid 60's Gothic horror outing starring Vincent Price. "The Omega Man" on the other hand is a lively undead corpse of an altogether separate hue -- and it's one rip-roaringly loud, gaudy, tripped-out funky-a** blinding Day-Glow color at that. Yep, this American made sci-fi/action baby only retains the central premise of Matheson's book, embellishing greatly on the story so it can snazzily cater to all the hip'n'happening trends of the early 70's. The film serves as a wildly distorted and hugely entertaining funhouse mirror reflection of the heady early 70's and nowadays naturally represents a hopelessly dated, yet still oddly charming time capsule of a bygone era.
A terrible plague has wiped out most of mankind and turned the bulk of folks who are still alive into crazed albino mutants. Famed NRA spokesman and archetypal post-nuke sci-fi/action survivalist icon par excellence Charlton Heston portrays with his customary steely resolve and firm granite jaw one Robert Neville, an unattached, sardonically wisecracking, rough'n'tumble machine gun-toting bachelor scientist who lives in an eerily empty and desolate Los Angeles along with a lethal bunch of the evil albino mutants. Led by former TV newscaster turned Charles Manson-style cult leader Matthias (deliciously essayed with lip-smacking hammy relish by veteran villainous character actor Anthony Zerbe), the smart, calculating, shades-wearing nocturnal albino mutants call themselves "brother" and "sister," wear cowled black robes which make them resemble deranged monks, use bows and arrows as weapons, and wish to destroy all remnants of modern society so they can create a new technology-free medieval world. These gloriously gaga freaks come across like a marvelously malign cross between the Manson Family and the Black Panthers. Meanwhile our carefree and nonchalant human hero Heston tools around the barren ruins of LA in a fancy convertible while blasting the sappy theme of "A Summer Place" on his 8-track stereo (!), treats himself to countless free showings of "Woodstock," blithely blows away lots of mutants with his trusty machine gun, sips fine wine and plays chess with himself, and has a steamy interracial affair with a spunky black lady survivor (the delightful Rosalind Cash, sporting a jumbo Afro that would make Pam Grier blush). Heston runs across a handful of mellow hippie kids led by motorcycle-riding longhair Paul Koslo who have all somehow managed to avoid being infected by the disease.
It gets better. WARNING: Big old nasty *SPOILER* ahead. The film ends on a ridiculous optimistic note with Heston being done in by a spear-tossing Matthias; a serum made from his blood is left behind to cure the survivors. Best of all, Heston croaks with his arms outstretched in a cheesy Jesus Christ on the cross posture, a self-deifying image that's further hammered home by a tacky solarized final freeze frame. The closing visual reveals the entire picture to be nothing more than a silly, thinly veiled Christ allegory. Yep, the basic tone strongly adheres to an extremely conventional and conservative Christian mentality, a giddy upbeat mindset which in turn makes this amazing item an absolute four-star camp hoot of the highest order. The scenes of Heston roaming through the bleak and abandoned city streets are wonderfully bizarre and haunting, highlighted by Heston's extraordinary "the phone isn't ringing" crack-up scene. It's this pervasive straight-faced sense of total inside-out strangeness which gives this fabulously flipped-out film its peculiarly irresistible oddball appeal.
A terrible plague has wiped out most of mankind and turned the bulk of folks who are still alive into crazed albino mutants. Famed NRA spokesman and archetypal post-nuke sci-fi/action survivalist icon par excellence Charlton Heston portrays with his customary steely resolve and firm granite jaw one Robert Neville, an unattached, sardonically wisecracking, rough'n'tumble machine gun-toting bachelor scientist who lives in an eerily empty and desolate Los Angeles along with a lethal bunch of the evil albino mutants. Led by former TV newscaster turned Charles Manson-style cult leader Matthias (deliciously essayed with lip-smacking hammy relish by veteran villainous character actor Anthony Zerbe), the smart, calculating, shades-wearing nocturnal albino mutants call themselves "brother" and "sister," wear cowled black robes which make them resemble deranged monks, use bows and arrows as weapons, and wish to destroy all remnants of modern society so they can create a new technology-free medieval world. These gloriously gaga freaks come across like a marvelously malign cross between the Manson Family and the Black Panthers. Meanwhile our carefree and nonchalant human hero Heston tools around the barren ruins of LA in a fancy convertible while blasting the sappy theme of "A Summer Place" on his 8-track stereo (!), treats himself to countless free showings of "Woodstock," blithely blows away lots of mutants with his trusty machine gun, sips fine wine and plays chess with himself, and has a steamy interracial affair with a spunky black lady survivor (the delightful Rosalind Cash, sporting a jumbo Afro that would make Pam Grier blush). Heston runs across a handful of mellow hippie kids led by motorcycle-riding longhair Paul Koslo who have all somehow managed to avoid being infected by the disease.
It gets better. WARNING: Big old nasty *SPOILER* ahead. The film ends on a ridiculous optimistic note with Heston being done in by a spear-tossing Matthias; a serum made from his blood is left behind to cure the survivors. Best of all, Heston croaks with his arms outstretched in a cheesy Jesus Christ on the cross posture, a self-deifying image that's further hammered home by a tacky solarized final freeze frame. The closing visual reveals the entire picture to be nothing more than a silly, thinly veiled Christ allegory. Yep, the basic tone strongly adheres to an extremely conventional and conservative Christian mentality, a giddy upbeat mindset which in turn makes this amazing item an absolute four-star camp hoot of the highest order. The scenes of Heston roaming through the bleak and abandoned city streets are wonderfully bizarre and haunting, highlighted by Heston's extraordinary "the phone isn't ringing" crack-up scene. It's this pervasive straight-faced sense of total inside-out strangeness which gives this fabulously flipped-out film its peculiarly irresistible oddball appeal.