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As the steward of ‘All Things Science Fiction’ for SciFiHistory.Net, I can tell you that there is a short list of motion pictures where I disagreed intellectually with those who know far more about genre filmmaking than I ever could.
For example, I’ve been dragged by a great many fans when I confessed to struggling to understand why Stanley Kubrick’s 1969 film 2001: A Space Odyssey retains the reputation it does so many years later. (I’d never deny its cultural significance or technical brilliance, but … as a flick? Well, it kinda/sorta confuses me and leaves me feeling empty.) Similarly, the absolutely God-awful pacing of Robert Wise’s The Andromeda Strain has that story limping and limping to the point of seeming tranquility until the final reel wherein the project redeems itself with a solid conclusion. And James Cameron’s groundbreaking Avatar (2009)? Have we not seen this story told, at least, dozens of times with similar narrative results? Must we – as a genre – remain so committed to central themes that we merely revisit them every few years?
I know, I know, I know, and I’ve heard all of the complaints before, especially that my dislike of a universally revered classic says more about me than it does the filmmakers. (I’m not in this for a ‘reputation,’ folks, and I remain committed to celebrating all projects whether they’re my cup of tea or not.) Regardless, I’ve always insisted that each of us is allowed to like what we like for whatever reasons we maintain; and that’s why you’ll find me recommending an older picture like Forbidden Planet (1956) more often than I do a few of those more trendy titles. Frankly, Planet is a flick that accomplished more ‘firsts’ than any individual production should; and maybe that’s a better barometer by which to register greatness than box office returns and critical clout. It’s a film that endures, one that continues to have relevance to the genre, and it’s never looked so good as it does in glorious 4K thanks for Arrow Films.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A starship crew in the 23rd century goes to investigate the silence of a distant planet's colony, only to find just two survivors, a powerful robot, and the deadly secret of a lost civilization.”
If you’re done any bit of research into director Fred M. Wilcox’s Forbidden Planet, then you’ve like learned a great deal of minutiae. It’s this space-based rescue mission wherein the crew of United Planets’ Cruiser C-57D head out to investigate what happened to a colony ship dispatched years before to Altair IV. Once there, Commander Adams (played by Leslie Nielsen) finds the expedition’s sole survivor – Dr. Edward Morbius (Walter Pidgeon) – adjusted to life out in the stars with his sole companions, his daughter Altaira (Anne Francis) and Robby The Robot. It isn’t until Adams’ suggestion that Morbius return home to Earth that the doctor alerts the ship’s captain that all is not what it seems on Altair, and the monstrous entity that destroyed the first crew to arrive there makes a deadly return appearance.
Of course, if any of sounds somewhat familiar, that could be because it’s the basic premise behind a good handful of stories told by such shows as Lost In Space, Star Trek, and/or Battlestar Galactica during their respective heydays. The difference is that Planet did it first – established the idea that a space-faring civilization could and would encounter challenges in exploring the unknown; and no less than Gene Roddenberry himself – Trek’s creator – who has been suggested as to picking up the baton from Planet and running with it in his weekly serial. Still, let’s not mince words: this film did it first, and for that SciFi will be forever indebted.
Furthermore, there have been plenty of robots featured in earlier projects; but it was Planet that truly established what future robots might look like. Indeed, Robby was originally built for his introduction into the picture, but the automaton has a reasonably long history turning up as a guest star in plenty of other enterprises. Science fiction author Isaac Asimov has been credited with creating the 3 laws of robotics (Google it), but a great many film scholars that it was Planet to first display precisely how they would function with a working model. The level of craftmanship to bring him to screen life hadn’t been seen before; and pairing the creation up with a unique personality all of his own definitely pushed the boundaries of what Artificial Intelligence could look like well before the term had been coined.
Additionally, MGM set out to give Planet its own unique identity beyond just the visuals when the studio contracted Louis and Bebe Barron to compose the first electronic score. The duo jettisoned the idea of using any conventional instruments, instead opting to built custom circuits by hand that would be played at key moments within the picture to give these sequences their own identity. There’s a bit of legal bugaboo behind the whole affair – i.e. the studio couldn’t call it a movie soundtrack as no card-carrying musicians were employed – but the bottom line is that these ‘tonalities’ helped establish that the picture was even more different than anything attempted on record. (Mind you: I personally find the tones annoying in spots, but that doesn’t diminish their historical relevance at all.)
Of course, the single greatest asset to Planet might very well be its central story, one that has been often defined as ‘modern era’ translation of William Shakespeare’s play, The Tempest. Once you transpose the idea of a ‘magical island’ with the ‘magical planet,’ there are a handful of other similarities between the two works involving the main characters and even the events as the unfold leading up to the climax. It’s been years since I read the play, so I can’t effectively comment on it other than to say that screenwriters Cyril Hume, Irving Block, and Allen Adler were geniuses for even considering such a feat as this association alone puts Planet on its own planet within what had been done in SciFi up to the point. As for me, I always drew on greatest association between the film to Robert Louis Stephenson’s ‘Strange Case Of Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde’ as it’s Morbius’ own angry subconscious that brings the dreaded glowing ogre to reality.
Now, I can assure you that there is even more to Planet that tags along as ‘firsts,’ but I’ve tried to mention the most universally agreed upon ones because they’re honestly reason enough to strongly suggest the film be a part of any serious SciFi enthusiast’s collection. While it certainly isn’t my favorite from that era, I will say that it’s still one of the few 1950’s projects I hold in the highest possible esteem. As I’ve said, without it coming to life when it did the genre would’ve likely vanished to near obscurity because they just didn’t make money (remember that these early projects effectively had to invent special effects, and that didn’t come cheap), not in the way conventional features did. But even that deep-rooted admiration won’t keep me from pointing out that, yes, it’s a bit tortuous in spots – pacing is particularly awful in its set-up; there’s a somewhat antiseptic depiction of a space navy as no officer has much individual personality (save the cook, which is mostly comic); and the dated exchanges between the men and the sole woman are more than a bit cartoonish. We’re also ‘told’ a great deal of history (regarding the planet’s alien species) instead of shown, and that can make the whole affair a bit dry.
Despite what you may’ve read elsewhere or been told over the years, Forbidden Planet – like a great many SciFi films during their original theatrical runs – was not a sensation. In fact, Google.com indicates that the film barely scraped along at the box office long enough to make back its production budget, distribution costs, and marketing charges. Furthermore, I’ve read that the picture’s underperformance resulted in MGM approaching like-minded fare trepidatiously for some time, a development that some say set SciFi back (as a theatrical genre) until it found greater success in the late 1960’s. Thankfully, Planet is a picture that endured regardless of those early receipts; and it is one of those projects that was deservedly inducted into the U.S.’s National Film Registry (for preservation) back in 2013.
Forbidden Planet (1956) was produced by Loew’s and Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that this film looks and sounds about as good as it ever has. The practical effects hold up quite well, and the creature animation is definitely the precursor to CGI that fills so many flicks with life these days. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? This is a two-disc set – one including a second film, 1957’s The Invisible Boy – which I still need to check out along with an assortment of what looks to be largely archival extras which have been available previously. There is an all-new commentary from scholars from Kim Newman and Barry Forshaw: it’s a bit too chatty in spots, but they keep it animated quite well with tidbits and trivia that mostly underscore was a special treat Planet continues to be for those of us who love it.
Strongly Recommended.
Succinctly, Forbidden Planet (1956) deserves a whole lot of respect for what it accomplished in the time and place of its original presentation. It was the first film of its kind of position men boldly going where no one had gone before – into deep, deep space – while other stories were content with exploring strange new worlds well within our solar system. Also, it was the first of its kind of require some kind of structured space travelling organization – what with a captain, crew, and command structure – while lesser flicks stayed focused on a lone commander calling the shots for everyone. Lastly, it was one of the first features of its type to cast of the kid-friendly shackles – SciFi was largely treated as entertainment for simple folks – and place the human condition at the center of a morality tale, the type of which paved the way for Star Trek, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and a great deal other descendants. Sure, it’s a bit slow. Of course, it’s a bit predictable. But it established a storytelling mold that’s largely worked every time it’s been tried.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Forbidden Planet (1956) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
For example, I’ve been dragged by a great many fans when I confessed to struggling to understand why Stanley Kubrick’s 1969 film 2001: A Space Odyssey retains the reputation it does so many years later. (I’d never deny its cultural significance or technical brilliance, but … as a flick? Well, it kinda/sorta confuses me and leaves me feeling empty.) Similarly, the absolutely God-awful pacing of Robert Wise’s The Andromeda Strain has that story limping and limping to the point of seeming tranquility until the final reel wherein the project redeems itself with a solid conclusion. And James Cameron’s groundbreaking Avatar (2009)? Have we not seen this story told, at least, dozens of times with similar narrative results? Must we – as a genre – remain so committed to central themes that we merely revisit them every few years?
I know, I know, I know, and I’ve heard all of the complaints before, especially that my dislike of a universally revered classic says more about me than it does the filmmakers. (I’m not in this for a ‘reputation,’ folks, and I remain committed to celebrating all projects whether they’re my cup of tea or not.) Regardless, I’ve always insisted that each of us is allowed to like what we like for whatever reasons we maintain; and that’s why you’ll find me recommending an older picture like Forbidden Planet (1956) more often than I do a few of those more trendy titles. Frankly, Planet is a flick that accomplished more ‘firsts’ than any individual production should; and maybe that’s a better barometer by which to register greatness than box office returns and critical clout. It’s a film that endures, one that continues to have relevance to the genre, and it’s never looked so good as it does in glorious 4K thanks for Arrow Films.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A starship crew in the 23rd century goes to investigate the silence of a distant planet's colony, only to find just two survivors, a powerful robot, and the deadly secret of a lost civilization.”
If you’re done any bit of research into director Fred M. Wilcox’s Forbidden Planet, then you’ve like learned a great deal of minutiae. It’s this space-based rescue mission wherein the crew of United Planets’ Cruiser C-57D head out to investigate what happened to a colony ship dispatched years before to Altair IV. Once there, Commander Adams (played by Leslie Nielsen) finds the expedition’s sole survivor – Dr. Edward Morbius (Walter Pidgeon) – adjusted to life out in the stars with his sole companions, his daughter Altaira (Anne Francis) and Robby The Robot. It isn’t until Adams’ suggestion that Morbius return home to Earth that the doctor alerts the ship’s captain that all is not what it seems on Altair, and the monstrous entity that destroyed the first crew to arrive there makes a deadly return appearance.
Of course, if any of sounds somewhat familiar, that could be because it’s the basic premise behind a good handful of stories told by such shows as Lost In Space, Star Trek, and/or Battlestar Galactica during their respective heydays. The difference is that Planet did it first – established the idea that a space-faring civilization could and would encounter challenges in exploring the unknown; and no less than Gene Roddenberry himself – Trek’s creator – who has been suggested as to picking up the baton from Planet and running with it in his weekly serial. Still, let’s not mince words: this film did it first, and for that SciFi will be forever indebted.
Furthermore, there have been plenty of robots featured in earlier projects; but it was Planet that truly established what future robots might look like. Indeed, Robby was originally built for his introduction into the picture, but the automaton has a reasonably long history turning up as a guest star in plenty of other enterprises. Science fiction author Isaac Asimov has been credited with creating the 3 laws of robotics (Google it), but a great many film scholars that it was Planet to first display precisely how they would function with a working model. The level of craftmanship to bring him to screen life hadn’t been seen before; and pairing the creation up with a unique personality all of his own definitely pushed the boundaries of what Artificial Intelligence could look like well before the term had been coined.
Additionally, MGM set out to give Planet its own unique identity beyond just the visuals when the studio contracted Louis and Bebe Barron to compose the first electronic score. The duo jettisoned the idea of using any conventional instruments, instead opting to built custom circuits by hand that would be played at key moments within the picture to give these sequences their own identity. There’s a bit of legal bugaboo behind the whole affair – i.e. the studio couldn’t call it a movie soundtrack as no card-carrying musicians were employed – but the bottom line is that these ‘tonalities’ helped establish that the picture was even more different than anything attempted on record. (Mind you: I personally find the tones annoying in spots, but that doesn’t diminish their historical relevance at all.)
Of course, the single greatest asset to Planet might very well be its central story, one that has been often defined as ‘modern era’ translation of William Shakespeare’s play, The Tempest. Once you transpose the idea of a ‘magical island’ with the ‘magical planet,’ there are a handful of other similarities between the two works involving the main characters and even the events as the unfold leading up to the climax. It’s been years since I read the play, so I can’t effectively comment on it other than to say that screenwriters Cyril Hume, Irving Block, and Allen Adler were geniuses for even considering such a feat as this association alone puts Planet on its own planet within what had been done in SciFi up to the point. As for me, I always drew on greatest association between the film to Robert Louis Stephenson’s ‘Strange Case Of Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde’ as it’s Morbius’ own angry subconscious that brings the dreaded glowing ogre to reality.
Now, I can assure you that there is even more to Planet that tags along as ‘firsts,’ but I’ve tried to mention the most universally agreed upon ones because they’re honestly reason enough to strongly suggest the film be a part of any serious SciFi enthusiast’s collection. While it certainly isn’t my favorite from that era, I will say that it’s still one of the few 1950’s projects I hold in the highest possible esteem. As I’ve said, without it coming to life when it did the genre would’ve likely vanished to near obscurity because they just didn’t make money (remember that these early projects effectively had to invent special effects, and that didn’t come cheap), not in the way conventional features did. But even that deep-rooted admiration won’t keep me from pointing out that, yes, it’s a bit tortuous in spots – pacing is particularly awful in its set-up; there’s a somewhat antiseptic depiction of a space navy as no officer has much individual personality (save the cook, which is mostly comic); and the dated exchanges between the men and the sole woman are more than a bit cartoonish. We’re also ‘told’ a great deal of history (regarding the planet’s alien species) instead of shown, and that can make the whole affair a bit dry.
Despite what you may’ve read elsewhere or been told over the years, Forbidden Planet – like a great many SciFi films during their original theatrical runs – was not a sensation. In fact, Google.com indicates that the film barely scraped along at the box office long enough to make back its production budget, distribution costs, and marketing charges. Furthermore, I’ve read that the picture’s underperformance resulted in MGM approaching like-minded fare trepidatiously for some time, a development that some say set SciFi back (as a theatrical genre) until it found greater success in the late 1960’s. Thankfully, Planet is a picture that endured regardless of those early receipts; and it is one of those projects that was deservedly inducted into the U.S.’s National Film Registry (for preservation) back in 2013.
Forbidden Planet (1956) was produced by Loew’s and Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that this film looks and sounds about as good as it ever has. The practical effects hold up quite well, and the creature animation is definitely the precursor to CGI that fills so many flicks with life these days. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? This is a two-disc set – one including a second film, 1957’s The Invisible Boy – which I still need to check out along with an assortment of what looks to be largely archival extras which have been available previously. There is an all-new commentary from scholars from Kim Newman and Barry Forshaw: it’s a bit too chatty in spots, but they keep it animated quite well with tidbits and trivia that mostly underscore was a special treat Planet continues to be for those of us who love it.
Strongly Recommended.
Succinctly, Forbidden Planet (1956) deserves a whole lot of respect for what it accomplished in the time and place of its original presentation. It was the first film of its kind of position men boldly going where no one had gone before – into deep, deep space – while other stories were content with exploring strange new worlds well within our solar system. Also, it was the first of its kind of require some kind of structured space travelling organization – what with a captain, crew, and command structure – while lesser flicks stayed focused on a lone commander calling the shots for everyone. Lastly, it was one of the first features of its type to cast of the kid-friendly shackles – SciFi was largely treated as entertainment for simple folks – and place the human condition at the center of a morality tale, the type of which paved the way for Star Trek, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and a great deal other descendants. Sure, it’s a bit slow. Of course, it’s a bit predictable. But it established a storytelling mold that’s largely worked every time it’s been tried.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Forbidden Planet (1956) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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