Novelization by Bill S. Ballinger.
From a screenplay by Robert Clouse.
Published by Warner Books in November of 1975.
. . .
"There are times when a man must look at another and trust him with his life, or something even more valuable. He cannot ask that man whether he is a good man . . . or if he is going to betray him. He has to look at him and decide."
. . .
Review by William D. Tucker.
In a nameless city-well, it probably used to be New York, so it's not a 'nameless' city, it actually/probably lost the name it had for so long-
In a city that lost its name due to all the cataclysms-nuclear war, famine, economic collapse, petroleum exhaustion, civil wars in every bedroom and on every block-humans have sealed off different groupings of what used to be apartment and office buildings and set up communes where people have rooftop urban agriculture and rainwater catchers so they can continue to eat and drink. One might assume they're also still using whatever's left of the aquifers, but it's best not to think about that. People horde canned goods, but those are going away, along with all the other delights and conveniences of the mass produced highly disposable societies of yore. The narrative is vague, but we are well past the 1980s. No more cars are being manufactured. Later for nation states-the logic of nationalism was so self-consuming. Later for religion-no great loss. Money don't mean shit-the logic of capitalism was so self-consuming. No electricity, no air conditioning-no Pac-Man, no Space Invaders, no Death Race 2000, no Missile Command-well, shit and fuck! Outside the communes are the 'Street People,' roving gangs of bandits'n'cannibals that allow the commune dwellers to feel superior to the unhoused and, also, terrified of same. I got the impression that some Street People groups were better organized than others, but this was not fully elaborated in the text. We are observing the action from the perspective of a commune known as the Barony.
Wouldn't you know it-the Barony is led by a man called . . . the Baron. The Baron isn't actual nobility, nor do the people of the commune actually believe in ranks or titles or noble this'that'or'the'other. They believe in jobs to be done, and Leader is a job which must be filled. The Baron was just a name picked on a whim to denote the job/role of a leader, and it somehow stuck. The Barony, by a similar process, became the name which these particular commune dwellers adopted to distinguish their turf from everybody else's turf. Nor does the Baron himself think he's anything special. He's old, but I got the impression he's been the Baron for a long time partly against his will and partly by his own choice, so we are not necessarily dealing with a cut-and-dried case of gerontocracy here.
The Baron's gig isn't so bad, really. He gets his own office. He's got lots of books and maps to pour over. He fantasizes about leaving the city-just like many New Yorkers of yore did-and he's got a private stash of delicious cigars. Perhaps, once he's smoked his way through all those stogies, his mouth and teeth will fall off, and he can die of dehydration-or starvation if he can still take fluids.The downside is that the Baron has to make a lot of tough decisions: crime, punishment, security, street combat. If someone steals or kills or rapes within the Barony, the Baron is the guy who has to make the decision to exile that person into the urban wasteland with a vest of jingle bells to draw a cannibal mob of Street People. If the Barony's running low on supplies, the Baron's the one to lead foraging expeditions out into the creepy ruins of the blighted city. If there's a war with a gang of Street People or a hostile commune, the Baron is dutybound to lead the charge. But, if all is calm, the Baron can sit in his office, puffing a cigar, and re-reading The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire(where did it all go wrong?) or Day of Trinity(who thought nukes were a good idea?) or Thirteen Days(how do you slick your way out of a doomsday standoff?) or Earth Abides(oh, that's what they thought would happen) or The Story of O(just some leisure reading) or whatever. Better than Wal-Mart or McDonald's.
The Barony has a scientific greenthumb named Cal who has bred a strain of famine-resistant seeds. The Baron sees these seeds as a potential way out of extinction, but he has no faith in the ability of the people of the Barony or the larger city to put these seeds to good use. The Baron knows the cruelty and vindictiveness of his people all-too-well even when measured against the bloodthirsty Street People. The commune dwellers are just a little more comfortable and self-absorbed than their unhoused fellow humans is all. But what can the Baron do? He has been put into his job/role not to demonstrate moral leadership or elevate people's ethics or sense of social justice but merely to maintain status quo. The Baron knows not how to speak to the hearts of his people.
There's a kinda-sorta no man's land outside of the communes that serves as a public square to facilitate barter and other forms of exchange. A muscular man appears here, all alone, standing shirtless, eyes closed, presenting himself to the highest bidder. This is Carson, the titular Ultimate Warrior, who is very good at killing people with his hands, his feet, and his big-ass knife. Carson makes such a ritual display to signify both his strength and his mercenary status, though it was not clear to me why a gang of cannibals would be put off from converting his impressive physique to nutritional purposes. The point is that Carson is a wandering badass motherfucker-like Shane, like Yojimbo, like the Man With No Name-and he's going to provide the action sequences for the next seventy or so pages. The Ultimate Warrior is a Wild West melodrama in post-apocalyptic drag.
The Baron hires on Carson. The Baron had hired a mercenary previously, and there's a great speech describing the tragedy of such a life: accumulated wounds leading to escalating disability ending in suicide. Carson knows all of this already, and either doesn't care or sees no other way to live in a post-civilizational world. I interpreted Carson as a guy who preferred to die on his feet, but the narrative makes it clear that such a desire might be nothing more than a macho fantasy in a life that wears you down with a million cuts. All the same, Carson has plenty of opportunity to demonstrate his killing prowess against Street People and a particularly nasty bunch of goons led by a dude named Carrot, who turns out to be Carson's nemesis. The action stuff is somewhat perfunctory, and lacks the gruesome panache of later post-apocalyptic fantasias such as The Road Warrior, Fist of the North Star, and Fury Road, but it does lead to an acceptable payoff. The Ultimate Warrior doesn't completely back down from its bleak premises even as it indulges in one-against-all battle fantasies.
The Baron has a secret mission in mind for Carson, one based on the hardy seeds cultivated by Cal. The Baron is also looking to get his pregnant daughter, Melinda, to safer climes. But in a key moment, the Baron tells Carson to choose the seeds over Melinda if he can't save both. I appreciated the bleakness and cynicism of these machinations. But from another perspective the Baron is extending his sense of care beyond his own comfort and position since this secret mission will fatefully put him at odds with his own people. The Baron trusts a stranger over his 'family,' in a sense, and I find this fascinating to think about. It's like the Baron is developing a more global outlook even if it's too little or too late.
A last minute twist suggests that maybe one of the core malfunctions of this world is breakdown of communications. Everybody's retreated into communes and gangs and aggression and paranoia-not wholly without reason-but the appearance of some friendly strangers suggests that the city isn't so dead after all. This is right at the end, so it must be significant, right?
The Ultimate Warrior is no masterpiece. It's movie tie-in product. You get about one hundred thirty pages of entertainment. I read it in one go on a Sunday night. The cover features a cheesy drawing of Yul Brynner as Carson and Max von Sydow as the Baron. Don't ask me about the actual movie, I've never seen it. If I was living in a post-apocalyptic world, this book would be the only option for enjoying this story. I could've even smoked a gross cigar like some asshole while reading it, but I didn't. I had some strong black coffee and that was good enough for me.
