The third adaptation of Richard Mathesons classic novel and the only one to keep the name, I Am Legend sets its stall out early as a truly post-apocalyptic movie. Will Smiths Robert Neville, as with Vincent Prices Robert Morgan in 1964s The Last Man On Earth and Charlton Heston as Robert Neville in 1971s The Omega Man, is alone in a broken down cityscape, the last healthy human being alive. The opening scenes are brilliant stuff, intermittent flashbacks reminding us of the world Nevilles world that was, and of everything thats been lost. New York is creepy as hell, while retaining that majestic sense of alienation that comes with observing the ruin of a civilisation: "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair! Will Smith is never better than in this opening first act, perfectly personifying the good man papering over the cracks, but on the verge of allowing those crack to rip open through loneliness, isolation and grief. Alienation, loneliness, isolation thats the engine of the first third of I Am Legend, and its sadly unsustainable if the story is to move on. As soon as Neville begins interacting with others as soon as he discovers hes not alone the electric atmosphere of the film crumbles, and were left with a simple sci-fi action movie. Worse, were left with that most cowardly of all armageddon narratives: the viral apocalypse, the end of the world with its own built-in reset button. Now that Nevilles not alone, now that there are more survivors, the successful search for a cure will save the world. Civilisation is not lost after all. The irony of Ozymandias in the first act is wasted, as is the whole point of the title of the novel that the film appropriates. The novels Robert Neville recognises that the human race is over with, that the new vampiric strain are the inheritors of the earth. He has become a superstition, a boogeyman, just as the vampire once was for humanity. Smiths Neville is legend simply because he did a few blood tests and saved the world. Also, they should never have killed the dog. That's just bad Hollywood voodoo, right there.
Professional writer, punk werewolf and nesting place for starfish. Obsessed with squid, spirals and story. I publish short weird fiction online at desincarne.com, and tweet nonsense under the name Jack The Bodiless. You can follow me all you like, just don't touch my stuff.
