In *I Am Legend* (2007), director Francis Lawrence crafts a post-apocalyptic elegy that lingers like a half-remembered dream, its power rooted in Will Smith’s commanding performance and the desolate beauty of a forsaken New York City. Smith, as virologist Robert Neville, carries the film with a raw, introspective intensity, his solitude palpable in every glance toward his dog, Sam, his only companion. The screenplay, adapted from Richard Matheson’s novel by Mark Protosevich and Akiva Goldsman, falters in its third act, trading nuanced existential dread for a rushed, conventional resolution. Yet, the film’s earlier moments shine, particularly in its depiction of isolation as both a physical and psychological labyrinth. Lawrence’s direction transforms Manhattan into a character its overgrown streets and silent skyscrapers evoke a world reclaimed by nature, a visual metaphor for humanity’s fragility. Cinematographer Andrew Lesnie’s work is striking, using muted greens and grays to paint a city suspended in time, with wide shots that dwarf Neville against the urban ruins. The use of light, especially in scenes where Neville hunts in daylight to avoid the nocturnal infected, underscores the film’s ticking-clock tension. U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” in a pivotal moment adds a layer of yearning, though James Newton Howard’s understated score sometimes struggles to match the emotional weight of the visuals. The infected, while visually unsettling, lack depth as antagonists, their CGI rendering occasionally pulling the viewer out of the story’s immersive despair. What elevates *I Am Legend* is its meditation on hope’s persistence amid collapse Smith’s Neville clings to routine, broadcasting pleas for survivors, not out of naivety but as a defiant act of faith. The film’s alternate ending, available on some releases, offers a more introspective closure, hinting at what might have been had the screenplay leaned into ambiguity rather than resolution. Despite its flaws, *I Am Legend* remains a poignant study of survival, not as triumph but as an act of enduring the unbearable quiet.