William T. O’Niel (Sean Connery) is a space marshal who’s been assigned to a mining outpost on IO, one of the many moons of Jupiter. His wife has left him, disillusioned with the space life. Whereas most boys hide girlie mags under the bed, their son has been caught hiding pictures of Earth.

Peter Boyle plays Mark Sheppard, the crooked operations manager. When the marshal introduces himself to Sheppard’s crew, he’s welcomed by the roughnecks warmly. Sheppard, on the other hand, makes it clear he intends to be the one calling the shots. Meanwhile, some of the miners have been experiencing deadly hallucinations. The marshal discovers an import drug is to blame and, surprise-surprise, Sheppard may be involved in the scheme.

As the investigation unfolds, the marshal makes friends with the infirmary’s head doctor, played by the extremely likable Francis Sternhagen. The banter between these two is often funny and very endearing. Peter Boyle is exceptional, too. “If you’re after more money,” he tells the marshal, “you’re very smart. But if you’re serious, you’re very stupid.” The marshal isn’t after money at all, of course. While the film doesn’t make it clear why he’s so motivated, it doesn’t need to because it uses the shorthand of classic westerns. He’s simply a man with a strong sense of right and wrong; the audience doesn’t question it because he’s played by Sean Connery.

And the marshal really puts his life on the line. In the last quarter of the movie, hitmen are on their way to assassinate the marshal. The minutes to their shuttle’s arrival are counting down on the loud flip clocks that are stationed throughout the facility, grating on the marshal’s anxiety with every click and clack. The marshal fails to deputize any help because the odds he’s facing are suicidal. No, it isn’t a rip-off of High Noon. It’s a loving remake.

Director Peter Hyams is very good at making solid films like Outland. Mechanical plots have always been one of his strong suits and his technical abilities provided him steady work in Hollywood. Some filmmakers are simply good at working within the system while others can only exist outside of it. Both are admirable when they produce films as good as this. Think about it: Hyams managed to make a good sequel to 2001: A Space Odyssey, which must have been a job no one envied. So maybe he isn’t what anybody would call an artist with a capital A, but he’s often the right guy for the job.

In the otherwise utopian future of Logan’s Run, humans are required to die at the ripe old age of thirty. Most people who reach the cut-off age believe the execution ritual is in fact transferring their immortal souls to a higher plane of existence even though all the spectators can clearly see their bodies fucking explode. Those who try to escape their birthday spankings are called runners. The men who hunt them down are called sandmen.

One such sandman is Logan Five (Micheal York). Logan loves the chase. He and his work partner toy with terrified targets before dispatching them violently. The glee on Logan’s face is truly vile; the way he dispenses the word “runner” is analogous to the way white supremacists scream their favorite slur.

One day Logan is forced to go undercover in order to find Sanctuary, the safe haven where runners attempt to go. Unfortunately, Logan’s partner thinks he really went on the lam so Logan must actually run. (I believe Spielberg’s Minority Report owes some unpaid homage to this.) The next thing you know there’s an oddly placed cameo by Farrah Fawcett, a lot of fiery deaths (because sandmen use flare guns instead of pistols), and a “big reveal” that pales in comparison to the one in Planet of the Apes. As you probably guessed, Logan will slowly have the wool pulled from his eyes.

Logan’s Run posits that people under the age of thirty are idiots. The film’s young and insanely attractive citizens mill about their dome city in slinky costumes with sex-crazed mindsets. I’ll be the first to admit these kind of movies are an acquired taste, but I just love this kind of shit. As far as movies go, it’s the closest you can get to the kind of bizarre science fiction that truly insane novelists like Philip Jose Farmer and Roger Zelzany unleashed in yellow DAW paperbacks. You’re going to see an unbelievable amount of sex, violence, and gratuitous nudity for a PG-rated film, and sheer awesomeness in the truest sense of the word.

It’s a hell of a spectacle, yes, but not a seamless one. Analog future technology is adorable when watched in the digital age. The miniature effects look as realistic as toys. There’s a robot effect so painfully obvious you can actually see the lips of the actor who’s wearing the costume.

Logan’s Run is far too goofy to be considered a classic, but you’ll probably grin an awful lot.

Dr. Neville (Charlton Heston) is driving his convertible through deserted Los Angeles. It’s a pleasant day and he’s just vibing, listening to Theme from a Summer Place on an 8-track player. When Heston spots movement in a window, the machine gun comes out and he releases a barrage of bullets. This is two years after a biological apocalypse has rendered nearly everyone else on the planet dead. According to the poster, “The last man alive… is not alone!” That’s because most of the people who survived the plague are now mutants who specifically want to kill Neville.

If this sounds vaguely familiar, it’s because it’s a 1970s retelling of Richard Matheson’s 1954 classic novel, I Am Legend, in which the bad guys are vampires, not mutants. It also served as the basis for Vincent Price’s The Last Man on Earth, which is a fairly standard but watchable B-movie, and a 2007 Will Smith vehicle which bore the same title as the novel even though it entirely missed the point. Matheson’s novel depicted Dr. Neville as a man so badly isolated that when the vampires came to his home to taunt him nightly, he often fantasized about opening the door and stepping out.

The Omega Man scales back the isolation-horror and becomes one of the very first tough guy films, complete with witty one-liners (which mega Omega Man fan Tim Burton has pointed out in interviews). While browsing a car lot, Neville has a humorous conversation with an imaginary car salesman who’s trying to screw him over. After being captured by the bad guys, Heston asks, “Are you fellas really with the Internal Revenue Service?” When it’s revealed that Neville is not, in fact, the last person alive, his love interest decides to go shopping, referring to her shotgun as a “credit card.”

The film’s so hip, in fact, the mutant ghouls wear mirrored shades with their sacramental robes. This may have seemed a little silly in the 70s, but in the time since it’s managed to age like a fine wine. The last woman alive is sassy black Lisa (Rosalind Cash), who’s not the only prominent character in the film who wears a bitchin’ afro. The first time she meets Heston it’s with perfect comedic timing: she catches him caressing the curves of a department store mannequin.

The Blu-Ray looks great, though it’s painfully obvious whenever motorcycle-driving Charlton Heston transforms into a stunt double with a bad toupee. Also shitty is the inclusion of the same special features which appeared on a DVD version ten years ago. Nonetheless, I haven’t enjoyed the picture more. Watch it before Tim Burton inevitably remakes it.