Do not adjust your computer screen ... we control the horizontal and the vertical ...
And some other positions, too, on Sundays and my birthday!
And that's all I have.
Enjoy our review of "The Omega Man," if not the movie itself. Tonight is our first double feature, with "Metropolis!" Thanks again for reading!
The Omega Man: Directd by Boris Sagal. Starring Charlton Heston, Anthony Zerbe, Paul Koslo, Rosalind Cash and Eric Lanueville.
The Skinny: In 1975, the Sino-Russian War escalates into germ warfare and a massive plague wipes out 200 million people, leaving only a bad-ass scientist and a hot black chick to either save or repopulate the goddamn world.
The Real Deal: This was the third film in professional badass Charlton Heston's sci-fi trifecta, along with "Planet of the Apes" and "Soylent Green." In each of these films, he essentially plays the same character - that is, he's Charlton "I'm The NR-fucking-A" Heston. Only this time, instead of battling apes or an oppressive government, it's a group of post-plague victims who call themselves "The Family," with albino skin, mirror shades and shimmery black robes. They shun all technology and kill anyone who doesn't bear "the marks," which in this case is a cool pair of Marilyn Manson contact lenses.
Heston manages to avoid the plague by jabbing himself with the antidote at the last minute, leaving everyone else to either drop dead or turn into a semi-zombie freak. So what does Heston do? He cruises the city streets in his red convertible Pussy Wagon, shooting Family members with his M76 and watching "Woodstock: The Movie" for the ten millionth time (in the theater, folks, because this is long before the age of home video). In between all thatm he laughs at corpses lying in the street and makes quips to himself that he finds quite amusing. At home, he sips top shelf liquor and chitchats with his bust of Caesar while taking sniper shots at Family members below.
In short, he's living the life every man wants. It's like "Grand Theft Auto," only it's fucking real and instead of some lowlife thug, we get to be Charlton Heston. There's just one vital thing I just don't understand. In the midst of all this macho, who does the man pick for his pretend companion? A fucking bust of Caesar. I don't know about the rest of you dudes out there living this vicarious fantasy, but if I were Heston, I'd have found me a convincing blow up doll or a mannequin - something to remind me of the female form. And potentially have private relations with that would be perfectly normal for a man to commit if he were to find himself alone in a massive city. I mean come on, right? Am I right? Yeah, I'm right you sickos.
Is It Worth My Time: That's hard to say. The film falls into that "Dystopian Future" category and has been remade twice - one we covered in a previous blog, and one we'll get to in a few weeks. This is definitely the worse of the three, and is probably something you should only watch is you a) dig Heston and his whole thing, b) you like douchy "message pictures" with ridiculously obvious social and religious undertones, or c) you love the cheesy science fiction films that the 70s managed to produce. I fall into the third category for the most part, although I have grown to appreciate Heston more in my later years and I do enjoy his ridiculous delivery and blatant manliness. It's a reflection of my own utter lack of manhood.
Best Scene Ever: It's hard to top the opening scenes of Heston in cruising mode, machine gun at his side, while we catch glimpses of post-apocalyptic Los Angeles. Dried corpses recline in tattered lawn chairs while stacks and money and gold bricks lie useless in the streets. It's so hard to top that much of the rest of the movie is kind of a bore, even when he does finally score with the hot black chick.
Quotable Stuff: "He is part of the dead. He has no place here. He has the stink of oil, maletrical circitry about him. He is obsolete!" - Crazy Cult Leader Mathias.