Taylor (Charlton Heston), Landon (Robert Gunner), and Dodge (Jeff Burton) survive the crash of their spaceship on an alien world in the far future. They quickly discover that apes are the intelligent and dominate life form, and the primitive, mute humans are thought of as pests. Taylor is taken captive, where chimpanzee scientist Zira (Kim Hunter) takes an interest in him, to the dismay of her fiancée, Cornelius (Roddy McDowall) who knows it will lead to trouble. And it does, in the form of their superior, orangutan Dr. Zaius (Maurice Evans), who is both the head scientist and the keeper of the faith, and is not about to allow a talking human to contradict the holy texts.
What is seeing Planet of the Apes like now, seeing it for the first time? It can’t be like it was in 1968. Soylent Green and Psycho share the same fate—their success has lessened them. Everyone knows Planet of the Apes, even if they don’t know they know it. Few endings stand so high in pop culture. I can think of a few that stand with it, but none higher. No one can go into Plant of the Apes now in ignorance. And it isn’t just the ending.
“It’s a mad house! A mad house!”
“Take your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape!”
It’s been transformed into a series of memes, which not only makes it impossible to see it totally fresh, but also leads those who know it to forget how good it is. Familiarity has bred contempt. I am one of the lucky ones who went into it blank—in the early ‘70s—and even I was started to forget how good it is. Because however you rate it from those memes and Simpsons episodes and improv routines, it’s better. It’s a great film, not just one with a couple of good quote and an iconic ending.
Let’s start with the music. Jerry Goldsmith, one of the best modern film composers (my list here), creates something stunningly original, part futuristic, part primitive, and part nightmare. I’ve been told it’s the first American atonal film score. I’ve read that it isn’t atonal but microtonal. What that means is that it’s filled with sounds no one had heard before in a Hollywood picture. There’s just enough of the expected orchestral music there to string us along before Goldsmith cuts us off at the knees. Strange timings. Odd tones. And the instruments he added to his orchestra: a ram’s horn, log drums, conch shell, electric harp, and a Brazilian tunable friction drum to name a few. He didn’t create a score to sit in the background. He made a soundscape. He created the world of the apes before a nail was struck to build the sets.
Let’s talk about Taylor. People forget about all the time spent at the beginning of the film, pre-apes, on Taylor. We get to know him. He’s not a hero. He’s not a villain either. He a cynic who laughs at flags and hope. He’s brave because he doesn’t care. He’s a bit of an ass. It isn’t clear what his abilities are—who knows what space travelers need in the world they come from?—but for the leader of the group, he sure doesn’t have people skills. He pokes at his fellow survivor just for the hell of it. He’s not too smart. Not too nice. He had no real goals before the mission. He disliked people but didn’t know what it was he did like, and wasn’t all that thrilled with himself. There’s a touch of cruelty to him, but he can be introspective, at least when forced to be. He’s also smart enough, nice enough, and thoughtful enough. He’s exactly who I want to see in this world. Planet of the Apes would lose so much with a hero boldly striding in to do the right thing. This isn’t a film about action, but about comparisons and Taylor is just the guy needed. Charlton Heston wasn’t a great actor, at least in scope. He was limited, which is fine. If I need a nail, I care that it’s a really good nail, not if it could also be a fine cup holder. Heston was a fantastic nail, a walking charisma machine—big and loud and powerful. Find him the right part and no one could do better. I’ve thought for some time that Moses was his perfect part, but no, it’s Taylor. Moses is all bombast. Taylor is a combination of strengths and frailties, a macho-man who knows that he’s wrong, but whose ego is pumped by the knowledge that everyone else is wrong too. I don’t like Taylor. You shouldn’t like him. But I sympathize with him.
I could go on about the makeup, but I’ll keep it simple: it was revolutionary and probably the best work done since Jack Pierce.
Let’s look at the structure. It starts in standard ‘50s scifi space-mode but drops that as soon as they crash, and we find ourselves in an adventure film. Not action, but adventure. It gets our blood pumping, till the rug is pulled out from under us as we’re switched to a prison picture, where it hovers until it is almost painful, and then we’re back to adventure. It’s one of the quickest paced films I can recall, but the changes in form hide that. That structure comes straight from the script, so…
Let’s look at the script. I’ve read the book by Pierre Boulee. It’s fine. Not great, but fine (and doesn’t having the ending of the film). Heston wasn’t that impressed by it either, but thought it could be made into more. He was right. It was, by Rod Serling and Michael Wilson, two of the best screen writers of their generation, and their fingerprints are both clear to see. Serling is best known for The Twilight Zone, where he wrote science fiction fables to comment on and satirize American society and the human race. And he loved irony and twist endings, though ones that were clear if you knew what to look for. Planet of the Apes is the ultimate Twilight Zone episode. There’s more commentary on mankind than you’ll find in three philosophy texts. Taylor and Landon are used to compare humans in the first section. Then we go to the ape city, where everything is a satiric look at America. I’ve heard people complain that this isn’t real science fiction because there is close to no chance that ape society would have developed like that. Well, science fiction isn’t about predicting the future, but examining the present, and that’s what Planet of the Apes is all about. And then there is the ending—the perfect Twilight Zone ending. He dropped his glasses. It’s a cookbook. And they blew it up. Wilson’s additions are equally visible. Serling was an excellent wordsmith. Wilson, a screenwriter for Lawrence of Arabia, was even better. He made words pop, and so the dialog does. Wilson was also a critic of US policies, a Marxist, and had been called by the House Un-American Activities Committee and was blacklisted. Now what does the ape court case, where Taylor is not allowed to speak, remind you off? Planet of the Apes has an exceptionally dense screenplay touching on almost every issue of the time, most of which are still unfortunately relevant: The Cold War, militarism, race relations, slavery, Vietnam, religious fanaticism, disrespect for science, unjust courts, individual rights and freedoms, capitalism v Marxism, and self destruction.
As for the rest, Planet of the Apes is a well shot, exceptionally edited, and solidly directed film. But it Taylor’s journey that sells it all. He’s a man who does not identify with humanity. He holds himself apart, but through his trials, he takes on the mantle of humanity and is proud of it… Until he isn’t.