A thoughtful and absorbing post apocalyptic movie that has soul
Directed by Sidney Salkow, Ubaldo B. Ragona
Produced by Robert L. Lippert
Screenplay by Logan Swanson, William F. Leicester
Italian version: Furio M. Monetti, Ubaldo B. Ragona
Based on “I Am Legend” by Richard Matheson
Music by Paul Sawtell, Bert Shefter
Cinematography: Franco Delli Colli
Edited by Gene Ruggiero
Italian version: Franca Silvi
Production companies: Associated Producers Inc.; Produzioni La Regina
Distributed by American International Pictures (US), 20th Century Fox (International)
Running time: 86 minutes
Cast
Franca Bettoia as Ruth Collins
Carolyn De Fonseca dubbed for Franca Bettoia's voice in the English release of the film.
Emma Danieli as Virginia Morgan
Giacomo Rossi Stuart as Ben Cortman
Umberto Raho (billed as Umberto Rau) as Dr. Mercer
“By night they leave their graves, crawling, shambling, through empty streets, whimpering, pleading, begging for his blood!
Do you dare to imagine what it would be like to be... the last man on earth... or the last woman?
Alive among the lifeless... alone among the crawling creatures of evil that make the night hideous with their inhuman craving!”
“HOW MUCH HORROR CAN YOU FACE?
...where lifeless hands reach out for the warmth of human flesh
...where terror walks on tiptoe begging for the blood of...
The Last Man on Earth!”
A plague devastates life on Earth and turns all of humanity into the living dead!
Dr. Robert Morgan is the sole unscathed human survivor on the planet.
For three years his daily routine consists of killing the zombie-like creatures by night and fortifying his house for his own safety by day.
With his wife and daughter having been taken by the outbreak, Morgan faces a constant battle against loneliness while trying to preserve his sanity.
But is there any point to all this?
It seems that the odds are against this last remnant of humanity……
Trailer
Read on for more........
Spoilers follow below......
(Please excuse the imaginative fictional context I've used to place the film's story in! A bit of license taken I'm afraid.)
To Anna & Ethan:
I am preparing these documents for you both now in the year 2021 by the old calendar which very few of us still privately refer to. I, Robert Nevell-Collins have recently had passed on to me by my mother, Lisa Nevell-Collins an old journal which had been passed to her by her ‘foster’ mother, my grandmother, Ruth Collins who passed away several years ago, not long after grandfather died.
Among our people such an artifact from the old days is considered to be a profane and sacrilegious possession and therefore forbidden. I could be put on trial and sentenced to death or worse, banishment for possessing and concealing such an object.
The journal in question belonged to a Dr. Robert Morgan (“cursed be his name”). His name is invoked along with the added curse on occasion during sermons whenever mention is made of the old times as useful object lessons for all of us living now. But of course, you are both aware of this.
For some of us though who question the current orthodoxies, Morgan has become something of a legend. He is often referred to (in whispers of course) as “The Omega Man” – the last man on earth, the only true and pure human survivor of a devastating world-wide plague. He alone had immunity and alone he had to struggle for survival against the multitude of plague victims - the hellish undead army that thirsts for blood.
My grandmother knew Morgan back in the old times and like all of our people since then she too was infected. Back then we had managed to develop a serum that has since helped us control the disease by means of regular injections. These are dispensed by the Leaders and are used as a means of control over the brethren and enforcing their orthodoxy.
I am preparing these documents for you both now in the year 2021 by the old calendar which very few of us still privately refer to. I, Robert Nevell-Collins have recently had passed on to me by my mother, Lisa Nevell-Collins an old journal which had been passed to her by her ‘foster’ mother, my grandmother, Ruth Collins who passed away several years ago, not long after grandfather died.
Among our people such an artifact from the old days is considered to be a profane and sacrilegious possession and therefore forbidden. I could be put on trial and sentenced to death or worse, banishment for possessing and concealing such an object.
The journal in question belonged to a Dr. Robert Morgan (“cursed be his name”). His name is invoked along with the added curse on occasion during sermons whenever mention is made of the old times as useful object lessons for all of us living now. But of course, you are both aware of this.
For some of us though who question the current orthodoxies, Morgan has become something of a legend. He is often referred to (in whispers of course) as “The Omega Man” – the last man on earth, the only true and pure human survivor of a devastating world-wide plague. He alone had immunity and alone he had to struggle for survival against the multitude of plague victims - the hellish undead army that thirsts for blood.
My grandmother knew Morgan back in the old times and like all of our people since then she too was infected. Back then we had managed to develop a serum that has since helped us control the disease by means of regular injections. These are dispensed by the Leaders and are used as a means of control over the brethren and enforcing their orthodoxy.
The afflicted creatures still exist but in fewer and scattered numbers (so it is rumored) and fear of their presence is also used as a way for the Leaders to maintain their control over our people. Their numbers are culled from time to time during organized pogroms designed to bond our community together and release pent-up frustrations that might otherwise be directed in ways that could threaten the rule of the leaders. How different to the original ideas of rebuilding society anew and ridding the planet of the undead! This last point you are both probably not aware of.
Anything from the old times as represented by Morgan is considered to be tainted and a source of corruption and is therefore forbidden. Our own family is still regarded with some suspicion by virtue of grandmother Ruth’s link with Morgan and her receiving the source of future hope for humanity. She was forbidden to attempt to pass this hope on to others and as she couldn’t have children of her own she was left to live out her life as long as she didn’t attempt to upset the order of things.
Hopefully when you come of age my children you have received this journal and the story of The Last Man On Earth will spread further throughout our community along with the lessons that it contains. In it you will learn of what happened to your ancestors, why most of us abhor the mere mention of Morgan’s name and why we failed to grasp the hope he offered us. Read now and put aside the lies and myths you have been told by the fanatics and fundamentalists of our community and learn the truth of your history…..
Entry
“Another day to live through.” Soon be time to get started. “December, 1965. Is that all it has been since I inherited the world? Only three years. It seems like a hundred million.”
In the unlikely event that anyone comes to read these words of mine, I live in a world where everyone else has been infected by a plague that has turned them into undead, vampiric creatures that fear sunlight, recoil from their own reflection in mirrors, and are repelled by garlic. “Yeah, I own the world. An empty, dead, silent world.” I, alone.
“I protect myself against them, but only because there are so many. Individually, they're weak. Mentally incompetent, like animals after a long famine. If they weren't they surely would've found a way of breaking in here a long time ago.”
I might very well be the last man on earth, as far as I can tell. But why am I immune to the plague that has killed everyone else on the planet? The only theory I have that could explain my immunity is that it results from the bacteria from a bite by an infected vampire bat when I was stationed in Panama, which may possibly have introduced a diluted form of the plague into my blood. I can’t say for certain but how else to account for it?
Today like every other day I wake up to the never-ending routine of checking the generator, marking off yet another day on the calendar, fashioning and gathering together my wooden stakes and then heading off to hunt for the living dead.
Anything from the old times as represented by Morgan is considered to be tainted and a source of corruption and is therefore forbidden. Our own family is still regarded with some suspicion by virtue of grandmother Ruth’s link with Morgan and her receiving the source of future hope for humanity. She was forbidden to attempt to pass this hope on to others and as she couldn’t have children of her own she was left to live out her life as long as she didn’t attempt to upset the order of things.
Hopefully when you come of age my children you have received this journal and the story of The Last Man On Earth will spread further throughout our community along with the lessons that it contains. In it you will learn of what happened to your ancestors, why most of us abhor the mere mention of Morgan’s name and why we failed to grasp the hope he offered us. Read now and put aside the lies and myths you have been told by the fanatics and fundamentalists of our community and learn the truth of your history…..
From The Journal Of Dr. Robert Morgan
Entry
“Another day to live through.” Soon be time to get started. “December, 1965. Is that all it has been since I inherited the world? Only three years. It seems like a hundred million.”
In the unlikely event that anyone comes to read these words of mine, I live in a world where everyone else has been infected by a plague that has turned them into undead, vampiric creatures that fear sunlight, recoil from their own reflection in mirrors, and are repelled by garlic. “Yeah, I own the world. An empty, dead, silent world.” I, alone.
“I protect myself against them, but only because there are so many. Individually, they're weak. Mentally incompetent, like animals after a long famine. If they weren't they surely would've found a way of breaking in here a long time ago.”
I might very well be the last man on earth, as far as I can tell. But why am I immune to the plague that has killed everyone else on the planet? The only theory I have that could explain my immunity is that it results from the bacteria from a bite by an infected vampire bat when I was stationed in Panama, which may possibly have introduced a diluted form of the plague into my blood. I can’t say for certain but how else to account for it?
Today like every other day I wake up to the never-ending routine of checking the generator, marking off yet another day on the calendar, fashioning and gathering together my wooden stakes and then heading off to hunt for the living dead.
“I can't afford the luxury of anger. Anger can make me vulnerable. It can destroy my reason, and reason is the only advantage I have over them.”
Today I also hunt for more mirrors and more garlic. “There was a time when eating was pleasurable. Now it bores me. Just fuel for survival.” Yes, fuel for the important part of my survival: “find where they hide during the day. Uncover every one of them…..They want my blood; it's their lives or mine!”
Entry
I’m now back at home having completed my gruesome expedition of destroying the undead while they sleep and picking up my essential supplies from the abandoned city. Here I stay locked up at night in my home that’s slowly succumbing to atrophy, dilapidation and decay and the ever persistent assaults of undead hordes crying out for me to come out, come out, come out...These creatures that were once human routinely attack and chip away at my home, my life, my sanity, my humanity every night! “And now 12 long hours before the sun will rise and drive them back to darkness.”
Entry
“Another day. Another day to start all over again.” Is this to be my sole purpose – to fashion sharp wooden instruments of destruction on my lathe day after day? To hear the tormenting dead voice of my undead former friend Ben Cortman, as he chants every night for me to come out so he can kill me?
No, not today! For today I resolved to put it all aside and rush to be at my dead wife’s side. God how I miss her so! That decision was almost my undoing as I fell asleep only to discover when I awoke that the sun had already set. The vampires would be everywhere. I raced hone as quickly as I could while fending off the deadly grasping embrace of many repulsive creatures. When I arrived home there was Cortman and his hideous, persistent but slow-witted and slow-motion compatriots of death to great me. After running several of them down with my car, I was able to avoid their clutches and re-enter the sanctuary of my home.
I can feel the layers of my existence slowly peal away; first with the meaninglessness of the present, then with the futility of hope for the future. What is left? The past? With a flashback memory to a happier time with my wife, Virginia and daughter, Kathy? Images on a screen! Ghosts of parties past sent to mock me in my miserable isolation of the here and now!
There had been a time that's probably been shared by many others when I dreamed a dream of complete tranquil isolation. During such times I had actually wished that the rest of humanity would just disappear and take with it all of its crass pettiness, its avarice and greed, its destructive tendencies. What else was the human race but a blight on the planet and a despoiler of Nature? In such moments of reflection and reverie I considered human beings to be little more than an aberration, something akin to a pestilential plague that ought to be excised from the existence…..
And now that I in a real sense have that once fleeting wish fulfilled of being the last man on earth? How I long for human presence and contact in all its shades and forms just to remind me of my own humanity! How I miss the warmth and love of my darling wife and daughter…...
Ah, but the past! Therein lies a germ of truth. “Germ!” Ha! Ha! Ha! What were the headlines screaming at the time?
What was known for sure was that this virus could not be “destroyed by any process we've been able to uncover.”
It wasn’t long before an ill wind began to blow as both Virg and Kathy showed symptoms of the plague. All the more imperative for me to continue my work at the Mercer Institute Of Chemical Research to find a vaccine to combat this virus.
At the time I could only go by the facts and the evidence told me that an “unknown germ is being blown around the world. It's highly contagious, and it's reached plague proportions.” Nothing seemed to be working, communications were being disrupted, the streets were “swarming with truckloads of bodies” that were being thrown into “that God-awful pit” to keep the germ from spreading. Or so I thought.
My friend and lab-colleague, Ben had a different take on the situation. Being young, he was impatient with the slow methodical approach to finding a solution to the virus. He was willing to entertain the idea that the dead were coming back to life and that was why the bodies were being burned instead of buried. Ben also wondered “why are the infected people always so tired in the daytime? Why can't they stand the sunlight? Why are they only seen at night?” My answer consisted of appeals to reason and evidence. After all, I was a scientist.
To ask questions and to think outside the box: Isn’t that also supposed to be the job of a scientist?
It wasn’t long before the situation demanded an official response, starting with the Governor declaring the state to be a disaster area and informing the public that “public health is dependent on the bodies of the deceased being burned.” People were advised that they must notify the Health Department immediately if they have a plague victim in the home. Under no circumstances were people to gather publicly.
It wasn’t long before the situation demanded an official response, starting with the Governor declaring the state to be a disaster area and informing the public that “public health is dependent on the bodies of the deceased being burned.” People were advised that they must notify the Health Department immediately if they have a plague victim in the home. Under no circumstances were people to gather publicly.
As I left for work, a sight I will never forget served to confirm my worst fears. One of my neighbors was crying out to some soldiers who had come to take away the body of a family member. I can still hear her words: “No! No! No! Please! Please don't let him be buried in the pit. Please, for God's sake. Don't take him away like this. You can't! You can't!” Under the new conditions, they could and they did. It had come to pass that any reported case of plague would result in immediate pickup, death and cremation of the body. Notions of ‘right,’ ‘wrong.’ and ‘morality.’ Who can say what they constitute at any particular time, place and circumstance?
As for the strength of bonds of friendship, cooperation and cohesion that exist between individuals in a community? I soon found out how tenuous these can be when faced with such a crisis that was blanketing the earth when I next went to pick up Ben on the way to work. Garlic festooning his front door was the first thing that greeted me. When Ben finally showed his face he looked ill but would not consider calling a doctor. Instead, he demanded that I leave and said to me “You take care of your life. I'll take care of mine.” His hostile and frightened demeanor was much the same as my reaction to the unearthly abominations that nightly assail the crumbling defenses of my little fortress.
At the lab I found that apart from myself, only Dr Mercer had come in to work. Despite the grim prospect for humanity’s survival, this unassuming man still had hope that not everyone in the world would die before an answer to the virus problem was found. The fact that he and I were not afraid to continue working on the problem was sufficient enough to hope and believe that “mankind won’t be destroyed.”
What happened next is too horrible to relate. When I arrived home I spotted one of the government military trucks leaving. I soon discovered that Kathy was gone. Despite admonishing Virg not to call anyone, she was so tormented by her daughter's suffering and appeals for help that she as a mother could not help but try to seek assistance for her.
This was not a fate that I intended for Virg when she too succumbed to the plague. Rather than have her wind up in that cremation pit, I took her body and secretly buried her without the knowledge of the authorities.
Later when had I returned home I noticed that someone was trying to gain entry to the house via the front door. I cannot describe to you the horror I felt when I found myself confronted by the sight of Virg whom I had just buried! She had come back from the dead as a vampire and was advancing towards me with seemingly malign intent. But she had in fact returned to the one place she knew. From that moment I learned in the most horrifying manner what I had to do to put an end to the walking undead victims of the plague.
Entry
How does one apply the rules and codes of morality that are supposed to bind the individuals in a civilization together when that civilization no longer exists? In my society of one, the notion of private property is meaningless. Therefore, I can simply take what I need since it cannot be deemed to be an act of theft as there’s no-one left to own anything. So, I find myself at liberty to take a convertible and indulge my middle-life crisis fantasies., oops I mean my need for....comfort. But sadly, no. Sheer practicality in the face of dire circumstances has reduced my choice to that of a station wagon (a hearse) to replace my demolished car thanks to the destructive efforts of Cortman and his vampire vigilantes. Dull-witted morons.
Entry
How I’ve managed to last so long without companionship is a miracle. Loneliness is a silent stalker that preys on one’s sanity and eats away at the soul. What is the point of living if it amounts to mere existence without the possibility of sharing one’s thoughts, feelings and life with another human being? What is my purpose in life? To be the sole wielder of the sword of vengeance on behalf of an extinct species?
Perhaps hope has come in the form of a little dog I caught sight of today – a dog that’s alive! The little fella ran off as soon as he saw me and I chased after him in hot pursuit determined to search “every inch of this town” to find hind him.
Feverishly re-energized I have just finished trying to establish contact over my transmitter with someone-anyone-who I am now sure exists somewhere in this city and perhaps beyond!
Entry
To my amazement the dog I chased after earlier has reappeared on my doorstep. Poor little thing was injured and so I took it in and treated its wounds. I was so excited at the prospect of having company for the first time in three years. Suddenly in fear the dog took shelter under a table when it heard the vampires begin their assault on the house. The “poor driven thing.” My happiness was short-lived when I soon discovered that the dog was also infected by the plague. I clung to hope that it would get better and that we were “going to have lots of happy times together.” Then the futility of it all hit home. “What's the use?” I exclaimed to no-one in particular, except the only audience who could give a damn – me.
Entry
With the dog being infected there was no other choice for me but to kill it by impaling it with a wooden stake. Surrounded by a dark cloud of depression and loneliness, despite the bright sunny day, I began the grim task of burying my little ‘could’ve been’ pal.
Imagine my shock and surprise when I looked up to see the vision of a solitary woman walking through the park in the sunshine! When I re-gained my senses I quickly ran towards her calling out to her that I wasn’t going to hurt her, but she was intent on having nothing to do with me.
When I caught up to the woman I tried to get her to see reason and accept that I couldn’t be one of the undead as “I couldn't be out here in the daylight” if I was and “that they can't come out until sundown.” I also gave her the choice of coming with me or staying there and facing them.
Entry
The woman came back to my place and when she was sufficiently settled we talked – yes, talked – to each other. I found out that her name is Ruth Collins and that she had been married but had lost her husband.
Despite my desire to believe what Ruth was telling me about her survival, I remained suspicious and so I tested her out with a nice fresh garland of garlic cloves. Ruth’s reaction seemed to confirm my suspicions of her, despite her claims of having a weak stomach.
In her agitated state, Ruth blurted out that she had seen her husband killed, “torn to pieces” right in front of their house. Since then she had been wandering, “hiding at night; not eating more than scraps; sick with mourning; sick with fear; unable to sleep.”
Suddenly Ruth admonished me for shouting at her, chasing her across the field, dragging her into this house, shoving reeking garlic in her face and telling her that she is infected. With that Ruth made a move to bolt for the door and if I had not successfully prevented her, she might have escaped into the arms of the approaching night and succumbed to its ungodly denizens of death.
It turns out that Ruth is part of a group who are infected but are able to keep the disease under control by means of the serum they developed. It seems that Ruth was sent by them to ascertain if I know any more than they do. Their plan is “to reorganize society, do away with all those wretched creatures who are neither alive nor dead” and “start everything all over again.”
The sense of betrayal I felt was compounded by the sight of Ruth drawing a pistol on me and informing me that in addition to being sent to spy on me, she was also instructed to prevent me from resisting those of her group who are coming after me to kill me. She was charged with keeping me here until my executioners come for me. This new society of hers sounds very charming indeed!
***********************
At this point, Robert Morgan’s journal ends. I can only tell both of you now what has been passed down to me from my mother who heard it from grandmother Ruth.
When Ruth desperately tried to urge Morgan to flee, he inexplicably refused to. Later, while Ruth slept, Morgan began transferring his own blood into her. This transfusion gave Ruth immunity to the disease which was confirmed both by her tolerating the image of her face in a mirror and the distinctive aroma of garlic. This immediately had the effect of giving Morgan hope who now could see the possibility of being able to cure the rest of our people!
After dispatching a group of vampire creatures, our people set their sights on eliminating Morgan. Morgan managed to exchange gunfire with his pursuers and attempted to facilitate his escape by means of tear gas grenades he obtained from a police station armory.
Wounded by gunfire, Morgan retreated into a church. Standing at the altar, he was surrounded by several of our armed people and before Ruth could intervene and tell them that he had found a cure, he was struck a fatal blow from an iron spear launched at him by one of his assailants.
Points of Interest
“The last man On Earth" is based on the Richard Matheson's classic novel, "I Am Legend."
It is certainly the granddaddy forerunner of post-apocalyptic films such as “Night of the Living Dead,” (1968) “Omega Man” (1971), "Day of the Dead" (1985), "28 Days Later" (2002) and “I Am Legend,” (2007).
The film’s screenplay was written in part by Matheson, but being dissatisfied with the result he chose to be credited as "Logan Swanson" while William Leicester, Furio M. Monetti, and Ubaldo Ragona completed the script.
"The Last Man on Earth" was filmed in Rome with a predominantly Italian cast and crew, with scenes being completed at Esposizione Universale Roma.
Vincent Price effectively conveys the terror and despair of being the last living man on an Earth and he gives a moving and powerful performance as an isolated individual who is being continually menaced and besieged by hordes of zombies while having to contend with his own spiritual, mental and physical isolation. His character is less an action hero than a scientist struggling to solve a personal and global dilemma. It would not be too much of a stretch to suggest that this would have to be one of Price’s best on-screen performances.
The film and its subject matter lies somewhat close to home when viewed from the perspective of the current Covid Pandemic. This is particularly so when we witness the scenes involving the appearance of a new virus, the unraveling of normal life, reason and thought around the world, canvas-wrapped corpses being taken away destined for a pit, the effect on human relationships and society and the struggle to find a cure.
The low-budget constraints do not seem to detract from the film’s effectiveness at all. In fact, the scenes featuring empty streets and a deserted a city all shot in black and white combine to lend it a bleak, unsettling and eerie atmosphere.
The film and its subject matter lies somewhat close to home when viewed from the perspective of the current Covid Pandemic. This is particularly so when we witness the scenes involving the appearance of a new virus, the unraveling of normal life, reason and thought around the world, canvas-wrapped corpses being taken away destined for a pit, the effect on human relationships and society and the struggle to find a cure.
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