Behind its rather emphatic title is a suitably sober entry in the 'Last Man On Earth' sub-genre. Harry Belafonte plays Ralph, a miner who was underground when an apocalypse occurs. As in many of these tales, for a while he truly believes he is the only human survivor and sets up his own little world in NYC; And, of course, he's usually wrong.
Sarah (Inger Stevens) arrives on the scene. Less understanding and tactful is Mel Ferrer as Benson. It's a racially charged triangle, but, it's handled fairly maturely by writer-director Ranald MacDougall (based on stories by M. P. Shiel and Ferdinand Reyher), even if too demurely. The actors apparently pushed MacDougall to be more open with the relationships, but the Director balked. Even with that cautious approach, the film didn't do well at the box office and it is said that some Southern theaters didn't even book it. The acting by all three helps with Belafonte showing off his considerable screen charm. Why is it, that when there is a "last trio" on earth it always seems to be two men and a woman?
The stark empty streets of New York are shot in Cinemascope by Harold Marzorati and the great Miklos Rosza provides the rousing score. THE WORLD, THE FLESH, AND THE DEVIL isn't the definitive word on the last person trope, but, it's a solid late 50s example.
