Few films in recent years have stuck with me days after seeing them the way 'I am Legend' has, and that's why I've chosen to talk about it this week...

Based on a 1954 science fiction novel by Richard Matheson, the film depicts a future in which a deadly (and human-created) plague wipes out most of mankind. Those who do not succumb and die from the plaque turn into violent zombie-things that resemble rabid vampires, their skin so sensitive to U.V. light that they can only come out after dark. A tiny percentage of people are immune to the disease...food for the zombies. Wil Smith plays a military scientist who is involved with containing the virus, and failing that, he chooses to lock himself down in a New York City 'bunker' and seek a cure, even as the rest of civilisation is crumbling around him.

To be fair, the film is fairly preposterous in terms of plot devices and loopholes. For a more expert dissection along those lines, check out Roger Ebert's even-handed review. One of the key reasons you overlook any serious weak spots is Wil Smith, who really does do an excellent job of generating sympathy for his character. I hope he receives an Academy nomination for this. And, the film is tense and scary. It helps to have a dog in the storyline--an almost surefire way to make some of us dog lovers bite our nails in anticipation of what would happen next.

However, what got me, and has kept me thinking about it was the hauntingly effective depictions of New York City in ruins (and in the process of destruction). The most frightening scene of all was when we see American fighter jets intentionally destroy the bridges to Manhattan Island in a futile effort to contain the virus. Years ago, before 9-11, such a scene would have been as preposterous as the zombies...but not any more.

Without sounding too dramatic, I just cannot get some of the images in that film out of my mind. Perhaps it's all the doom and gloom talk in the news lately, most of which I believe. In fact, if anything, I am starting to think that the ticking time bombs of peak oil, global warming, famine, bird flus and renegade nukes are minimized in the news. Nobody likes a downer story, especially not one where we all die. Britney Spears is much more fun. Let's talk about her.

There is a connection to New Zealand in all of this (I know you've been waiting for it, eh?)

I just finished reading a fine novel called 'The Chrysalids' by John Wyndham, probably most famous for bringing us 'The Day of the Triffids'. (Pals James and Alice gave me the book for Christmas--THANKS guys! I enjoyed it!)

In the Chrysalids, Wyndham describes a post-apocalyptic world where humanity has self-destructed in what sounds like nuclear holocaust (the Tribulation). Aberrations and mutations are rampant, and some bands of surviving human settlements have adopted strict religious codes that strictly forbid the presence of mutants among them. Any sign of abnormality is labeled a Deviation, not human, and banished to the wilderness fringes. Thus they protect themselves from possible impurities (which, in fairness, is necessary in this scenario) but in the process become heartless monsters without compassion for the innocent. Without recapping the entire book, let me just say that it's a compelling story and worth picking up.

What I really wanted to mention was the connection to New Zealand. In the Chrysalids, a distant land is mentioned...a place called Sealand that consists of two islands. The opening paragraphs of the book clearly describe, in sharp detail, what could easily be Wellington. Sealand is a pocket of survival, and though it was not immune to the effects of the Tribulation, it's clear that Wyndam's belief was that Aotearoa would fare better than most other countries in such a cataclysmic event.

This thought intrigued me. Is Aotearoa a safer place to be? Some people think so, and some may even choose to come here because of the idea. Other people are already here and preparing for the worst. Some of the statistics are in NZ's favour. We're geographically distant, yes. We also grow more than enough food to sustain our population if it ever came to that. Of course, we seriously lack the industrial capacity to support mass-produced food processing and packaging. Petroleum is involved in making everything--everything. Without it, we are in the dark ages inside of a decade. We also lack sufficient military strength to defend our shores from enemy invasion, or even the hordes of refugees that would likely turn up from Asia and Australia. Thankfully, the question is purely speculative, for now...and none of us have to become like the people in the Chrysalids.

I cannot help but wonder if I'm one of the stupid people, sitting here watching Survivor instead of learning how to actually survive. Its not the first time I have felt this way. Now, I'm not suggesting that I want to go and build a bunker and start stocking up on saltine crackers. But I really would like to follow in the footsteps of people like No Impact Man and the residents of Otamatea Evo Village.

Why? Well, I think it would be so awesome to live off the grid, grow much of our own food, and reduce our consumerism. Regardless of the disaster stuff--living more sustainably is just the right thing to do (and I get a lot of pride out of seeing what comes up in my garden!). But breaking the addiction of the modern lifestyle is tough, really tough. It's who we are. Yeah, we recycle and we have a compost bin. Big Deal. I know it's better than nothing, but in the grand scheme of things I know we could do a lot more. Just how do you make such a transition without everyone around you either thinking you are a freak or a fanatic?

I close with a photo taken at Palmyra, Syria. I visited this amazing place back in 2001, and remember thinking about the people of this magnificent city as I wandered the deserted streets. During ancient Roman times, Palmyra was a gem in the desert - a fabulously rich and powerful caravan city. Did those people ever imagine their temples and buildings would someday be in ruins? Probably not. Like us today, the thought was probably inconceivable. And yet, there it is...a silent reminder that nothing lasts forever.