What we got right here is a prime sampling of Charlton Heston's 1970s renaissance, that's what. Prime Chuck. The Hest. The MAN. In all his ageing, fading glory. From the very beginning we see a sweaty, swarthy and downright bad Chuck rollin' in his five-oh (a la Vanilla Ice, I suppose), scouring the streets of a skeletal near-future Los Angeles. And as the last man on earth, it's the least he can do. Only this is the future with a demonic hitch - Chuck must defend himself at every darkening turn from an evil cult of postwar mutants, led by the maniacal cool-as-ice Matthias. This aggrevated Luddite soul-brother crew's primary aim it seems, is to rid the world of Chuck - while they're not oozing cool and spouting kitschy new-age philosophies. In response, what we as viewers receive is Chuck at his absolute baddest (take that how you wish). In a film where Hest's teeth practically take second billing, we hear him say all the things Chuck was born to say: Damn, bastards, God, SOB and so on.
It's one hell of a ride, dated badly from the first moment we see Chuck pop a tape in the 8-Track. Thus, when you feel the need for cheese, simply mix in "The Omega Man" - and a little prime Chuck.
It's one hell of a ride, dated badly from the first moment we see Chuck pop a tape in the 8-Track. Thus, when you feel the need for cheese, simply mix in "The Omega Man" - and a little prime Chuck.