COVID Made Me Rethink "The Omega Man"

The Omega Man (1971)

Most of us reading this article have survived our own version of an "end of days because of a virus" scare.

Growing up in the 1970s, I can think of four major virus-related events that hit the headlines in North America since then—AIDS, EBOLA, SARS, and of course, COVID. Re-watching The Omega Man in 2025 is a very different experience than it was for audiences in 1971. Seeing bodies piling up in hospitals, people coughing, the frantic news reports—it all feels eerily familiar now.

Based on Richard Matheson's novel I Am Legend, the story has been adapted into three different films: the black-and-white Vincent Price version (The Last Man on Earth), this one (The Omega Man), and the sleek, Will Smith CGI-fest, I Am Legend.

Having watched all three, I have to say: this 1971 version starring Charlton Heston is my personal favourite.

Sure, it's dated and a bit grimy—but that’s exactly what gives it an edge. The makeup and SFX might come off as a bit hokey today, but they have a certain charm, not unlike the blue-faced zombies of Dawn of the Dead. (Night of the Living Dead is, of course, the granddaddy of them all.)

This isn’t the creepy, haunted-house atmosphere of the Price film, or the Will Smith, sleek, CGI-fest. This version has a '70s patina that makes it feel raw and dangerous. The “zombies” in ‘Omega Man’ aren’t mindless; they talk, they run, and they’re organized, like a Doomsday cult in black robes and hoods—part witch-trial, part eco-warriors.

The opening scene, with Heston cruising through a deserted L.A. in a convertible, is just plain cool. It predates the eerie desolation of 28 Days Later by decades—and without the British bleakness. Chuck acts like he owns the place, and in this world, he probably does. He makes it clear he’s not someone to mess with—and he’s got the automatic weapons to back it up.

When he loses track of time during one of his many solo screenings of Woodstock at the local abandoned cinema, the tension ramps up. As night falls, so does the hammer—Heston tearing through the streets as the ghoulish cult wakes up, only able to come out at night due to their sensitivity to light.

What really makes the film stand out, though, is its politics. We’re initially meant to identify with Heston as the ultimate “man of science”—guns, cars, and American know-how. But as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that, to the survivors lurking in the shadows, he is the real monster. He is the symbol of everything they hate about the “old world”.

And then there’s the progressive gun-wielding sexy Black woman on a motorcycle (played by the amazing Rosalind Cash), laying down the law and telling Heston exactly what to do. When he says “Yes, ma’am,” and she orders him to drive through the zombies, it’s clear who’s really in charge.

It’s the kind of movie John Carpenter might’ve made after Dark Star, but instead, he made Assault on Precinct 13, which I feel has a similar tone.

So, if you’re into survival horror, zombies, cults and classic '70s downer endings, give this one a shot. You won’t be disappointed.