Forbidden Planet
The more I have delved into ’50s science fiction, the richer it has become. That’s not surprising, but seeing a genre start to define itself before our eyes is exciting. In the beginning of the decade, we got “Flight to Mars” and “The Day the Earth Stood Still,” and by the end of the decade, movies like “Godzilla” and “Forbidden Planet” began exploring territory and a level of visual effects unheard of when Georges Méliès created his “Trip to the Moon” at the dawn of cinema. Yes, there is a lot of schlock, but the genre was maturing, paving the way to the journeys of the ’60s and beyond.
Fred M. Wilcox’s “Forbidden Planet” might be one of the finest films the genre produced in the ’50s. A film that feels very familiar in structure, but produced with the best production design and effects money could buy, “Forbidden Planet” takes us on a journey into the unknown as only the best films in the genre do, and explores the conflict between human ambition and technological responsibility. This is a concept that continues to this day, and is often the source of some of the finest drama in the genre.
When the film begins, Commander Adams (Leslie Neilsen) is leading a crew to Altair IV to try and determine the fate of the ship, Bellerophon, which was sent there two decades before, and has not been heard from since. They manage to get a hold of Dr. Edward Morbius (Walter Pidgeon), one of the expeditions scientists, who assures them that he is alive, but warns them against landing. They insist on landing, but are not prepared for what they find. Dr. Morbius is the lone survivor of the original expedition, and has company in his daughter, Altaira (Anne Francis), a mechanical helper in Robby the Robot, and a menagerie of animals he has made. What might he be hiding on this planet? There’s always something.
The screenplay by Cyril Hume is based on a story by Irving Block and Allen Adler, and is said to take inspiration from Shakespeare’s The Tempest. I do not know about that, but the film’s narrative certainly plays on well worn tropes of powerful men, sheltered children, and what happens when a peaceful life is intruded upon by outsiders. We learn that the elements on Altair IV are responsible for the deaths of the rest of the crew, but that is not the biggest danger on the planet. There is a secret that Morbius is hiding- well, two- that hint at both the reason humanity is able to comfortably inhabit this planet, and why Morbius is hesitant to have the planet visited. There is intelligence and thoughtfulness in the ideas presented in the film; this is not simply a piece of schlock that pretends to have ideas at its center- it is very much a product of an age where humanity’s sense of power to push itself, and destroy itself, is fundamental to the narrative.
Robby the Robot is an iconic image in science fiction history; next to C-3PO and R2-D2, he’s maybe the most recognizable robot in the history of movies. This is not a robot where their personality is meant to mirror humanity, but he is a functionary for Morbius and his daughter. Yes, there are a lot of impracticalities associated with Robby, but he also has more personality than most of Commander Adams’s crew does. And the art direction and visual effects- which won an Oscar- are breathtaking to see. This isn’t just a case of feeling like we’re watching actors on a set in front of a matte painting- although that is very probably all we’re looking at- but it feels like Wilcox and his collaborators are truly building a world off the Earth. Adding to that is the otherworldly score by Louis and Bebe Barron. The first purely electronic score, it is a singular auditory experience, and feels as alive and original as it must have 70 years ago. It’s easy to see why “Forbidden Planet” remains a high water mark for science fiction cinema, both in the decade in which it was made, and all-time.
