Killing You Where You Sleep

I Am Legend and the Spectacle of Familiarity
by M.A. Fedeli



My mother and I went to the IMAX theater in the Tropicana Hotel & Casino in Atlantic City to see I Am Legend. She really wanted to see a feature film on IMAX and I really wanted to see Big Willie be as big as possible. After about 5 minutes of establishing shots showing the vacant island of Manhattan and all of its landmarks, my mother whispered (quite loudly) "where does this film take place?" I saw a few heads around me roll and giggle. Nevertheless, the generation (and location) gap was apparent. I am inundated daily by promotion for this film and even walked through Washington Square while they were preparing a scene; all she knew was Will Smith and IMAX. This contrast went along with recent thoughts I've had on how blowing up well-known landmarks has single-handedly saved the action-adventure, more specifically, disaster epic. In my parent's day, The Towering Inferno could be any old building in any old city. In my day, it had better be the Sears Tower or the Empire State for it to mean anything to the audience.

The film was decent for the first two acts, and there is nothing in the plot you couldn't guess from watching a trailer or two. It was a treat to see the city as barren wasteland. Bucking the latest trends, its running time wasn't long at all, probably too short, in fact. Mr. Smith's character's name is Robert Neville, a scientist and the last man standing on Manhattan Island. I could have easily done with another 15 minutes worth of scenes showing his descent into a lonely, paranoid madness (something that is portrayed inconsistently and not alltogether very believably). To take an even darker tone with the character's mental state would have ensured the Fresh Prince some major Oscar consideration, if he does not have it already. Overall, I had a great time, aside from some early hand-held shaky cam work that brought me to the threshold of nausea (see, when you're watching an IMAX film and can't focus your eye on something because everything in the frame is constantly moving, well, vomit is induced). One small detail I loved was in Robert Neville's Washington Square apartment, where he had great works of art from NYC musuems hanging about, including the MoMA's Starry Night, which was prominently placed above his fire place; a nice touch.

About two-thirds of the way through the film, though, just as our hero is seemingly about to meet his tragic end, all rationale and reason to care about the plot is lost. I know this film is based on a novel, but that's the writer's problem, not mine. A completely unbelievable and ridiculously contrived measure is taken to save his life and move forward the third and final act. Alas, I still enjoyed myself despite the absurdity and commented to moms, "it really is amazing what crap you'll let slide for the pleasure of spectacle and incredible special effects."

So, as someone who quite detests CGI and most special effects, how can I say that? Because seeing my city in such a dramatic and unreal condition is the ultimate roller coaster ride. It is experiencing the thrill without the risk or danger. All it took to make me happy was seeing on that big screen the Union Square subway stop I frequently use, or the sign for Fanelli's Cafe in SoHo where I recently ate. Seeing your home in a movie has the same feeling as seeing a famous person on the street (except for my father, who apparently bumped hard into Jerry Seinfeld crossing a street and then told my mom he thought "that guy looked familiar.")

The only thing we love more than seeing our home is seeing it blown to fucking smithereens (which is actually a real word). We can thank Will Smith again for that, with Independence Day. ID4 started the landmark-smashing craze that has been featured prominently in almost every respectable disaster epic since. New York City has bared the brunt of this destruction (but hey, that's because a destroyed NYC is devastating and regrettable, as opposed to a destroyed LA, which we all secretly hope for everyday anyway). The fascination with exploding White Houses and pummeled Empire States is the same exact emotion and attraction that had us watching the twin towers collapse over and over again. To this day, when the World Trade Center towers are shown falling on our TVs, who can ever turn away or change the channel? No disrespect intended, but viscerally, it is like a scene in the ultimate disaster film.

Will Smith is Hollywood's new leading man, taking over for middle-aged white men named Tom. That is a very good thing. He also has a gift for inducing tearful empathy in the audience, as he did to me in certain flashback scenes in I Am Legend (he also had me bawling at the end of The Pursuit of Happyness). The bar for disaster films has been raised, and that's a very good thing too. Now, if only the producers would pay the writers as much as they pay the special effects guys, maybe we could get some plots that can hold up beyond the spectacle.