It would also be wrong to deny that the film failed to pulled on my own heartstrings a bit. When Robert Neville loses his canine friend and tears course down the lonely man's cheeks, I felt sorry for him, and his failure to find a cure for the plague which has decimated the population frightened me not a little with its reminder of what scientific hubris may one day unwittingly create.

No, the difficulty for me lies in exactly where this film decided to pin its big heart--on its sleeve.

Everything about this film is worn on the outside, which is what so troubles this particular fan of the novella on which the film was based. Richard Matheson's original tale, published in 1954, takes us deep into the psyche of a man unable to cope with the fact that he has been abandoned by Fate. Between the loss of his wife to a disease that turns her into a vampire hungry for his blood instead of his love, regular incursions made against his boarded up house by the neighborhood undead, and the dwindling supply of various fresh foods and portable generators necessary to power the lights and frig, Robert barely survives the long months following the decimation of the population. He struggles with self-destructive thoughts, alcoholism, and overpowering sexual desire without the promise of true release. More than a few times, he almost yields to the open arms of the undulating, provocatively dressed vampires outside whose fangs would quickly replace flesh were he to venture outside.

Robert's case could not be more desperate. He spends his days making longer and longer journeys into the city to forage for supplies and canned foods, burns many an hour hauling fresh corpses off his front lawn each morning to a local pit, and exhausts any remaining time searching neighboring buildings for nesting vampires to stake. With little free time available, he can only slowly educate himself in the basic scientific knowledge necessary to understand how this disease has infected so many, and so rapidly. After a few years of research, he discovers a more effective way of killing the vampires, solves the problem of why he was never infected, and learns to love instead of curse his loneliness. He also decides that the cross (and, sometimes, the Torah) scare vampires due to the Judeo-Christian myths with which they were inculcated at a young age, not because the symbol itself actually has any supernatural significance.

Identifying with Robert Neville requires a reader willing to descend imaginatively into desperation, despair, and, finally, a profound disinterest in intimacy of any kind. It's not a pleasant journey, but it makes some useful observations about the power of others to shape not only our actions but our expectations, and it articulates the universal fear we share of being forced to face who we really are when friends and family are not around to distract us from self-reflection. And, though I disagree with the narrative's conclusions about the divine, I appreciate its willingness to tackle the issue of how tragedy sometimes radically reshapes our thoughts about the nature of the universe.

Lawrence's adaptation grossly simplifies matters by offering up a Robert Neville with whom it is much more enjoyable to sympathize. The heartache of Will Smith's character springs from the loss of a beautiful family and perfect life. This new, improved Robert Neville is also lonely, but a cache of impressive skills and tools dull the edge of his loss. In his previous life, Robert was a medical doctor with--apparently--training in the arms of war as well as the art of healing: he has a syringe or sniper rifle for every contingency. He drives a muscle car swiftly through the deserted streets of New York (instead of the practical station wagon preferred by the novel's protagonist), sports plenty of muscles of his own (Matheson's Robert is active, but is nowhere near as buff as Will Smith's recent characters), and has an elaborate research laboratory in his home basement (the original hero completed most of his experiments in research centers reached only by a few hours' travel). And, of course, he has a well-groomed German Shepherd who helps him hunt throughout most of the movie. (Matheson's Robert does find an uninfected dog, but barely has an opportunity to befriend the mangy animal before it dies.) Admittedly, he too has a crisis of faith (note the Christian iconography strategically scattered throughout the film), but his disbelief is neatly eradicated by extraordinary circumstances just prior to the conclusion.

Who wouldn't want to spend a couple hours palling around with Will Smith? Even when he's in danger, there's no real sense of peril. All that's in jeopardy here are the good looks that might get marred by a vampire's teeth if he slips up.