Commander John J. Adams (Leslie Nielsen) and his crew travel to Altair-IV aboard their flying saucer to investigate the disappearance of the ship, Bellerophon, years earlier. They find that only Dr Edward Morbius (Walter Pidgeon) and his innocent daughter, Altaira (Anne Francis), have survived. Morbius is studying the advanced machinery of a dead race, the Krell, and has constructed a powerful robot, Robby, to be his servant. As the new arrivals vie for Altaira’s affections, a crewman is killed, indicating that the force that wiped out most of the Bellerophon’s crew may be active again.
While Forbidden Planet didn’t make my Top 10 Important Science Fiction Films list, it was a near miss, coming in somewhere around twelfth or thirteenth. It was one of the first pictures that had humans roaming outside of our solar system; it suggested wonders out in space, and it created the iconic Robby the Robot. It strongly influenced both Star Wars and Star Trek (the three officers could be Kirk, Spock, and McCoy with few changes, and their mission to check out what happened to some “colonists” was used repeatedly on the various Star Trek series; plus the alien landscape looks a bit too much like the Styrofoam rock worlds the Enterprise crew kept finding).
Praised with near religious intensity by many, Forbidden Planet demonstrates that the importance of a film does not correspond to its quality. The basic plot is a step above almost all ’50s Sci-Fi flicks, and the background of the Krell and their great and tragic advance is top notch, but everything in the film isn’t so impressive. The acting varies from acceptable (Walter Pidgeon in a non taxing role) to atrocious (a pre-comedic Leslie Nielsen with his macho man rating turned to 11). The special effects are sad, particularly the flying saucer (yes, in the future, we travel in saucers) which looks like a photo of a cheap model kit, or maybe a painted Frisbee—and this was five years after War of the Worlds showed how it could be done. Then there is the space clothing that is a mixture of pajamas and baseball uniforms, and the squirt-gun ray-guns. The exterior scenes are obviously shot on a set, one that anyone with some polystyrene and a paint gun could make. The map-paintings hold up much better, with the great Krell generators looking pretty impressive.
I can’t forget the painfully intrusive, computer tonal music; it won’t let you forget while watching. After it first pops up over the credits (and under them and on every side—Ah! Turn it off!), the spacemen make their hyperspace jump. This jump must be hard on mental and emotional stability, as it’s the only way to explain the following scene, where Adams becomes worried about something on the display screen and that the ship is warm. As nothing happens, I assume there was no problem, but then I wonder why we had to watch Adam’s mistaken concern.
What really pulls the film down is the embarrassing ’50s attitudes that are plopped on the screen without comment. There’s no imagination used in seeing the future. Instead, we’re presented with an all male, manly-men crew, which just stop short of howling when they see a girl. Apparently, women are incapable of operating the big complex machines used in space travel. The sexist and prudish comments come fast and furious, implying that two hundred years from now, all women will be housewives (Robby is a “housewife’s dream”). While Altaira is playing hard-to-get (all women do, you know), Commander Adams berates her for being too alluring, stating if she gets molested by the crew, it’s her fault for not being demure enough. But it’s all said in nice, censor-approved ’50s film-speak.
Good news for the Arian Nation. It looks like either the “white race” has formed its own government, or the pale folks have killed off all those lesser people as there isn’t dark skin to be seen. No blacks. No Asians. Not even a southern European gets to board the lily-white ships of the future.
There’s also some pretty silly combat. A man, armed with a pulse weapon, runs up to the monster (because the weapon works better 20 ft closer?) and is flung aside to his death. Naturally, another follows and dies. This, of course, persuades a third to run at the monster. Not exactly the brightest of men. I guess all that inbreeding to keep the race pure hasn’t done good things for mental development.
Much is made of Forbidden Planet’s connection to The Tempest. Yes, there is a loose similarity in the story and characters. Morbius is the magus Prospero, Altaira is Miranda, and Adams is both the love interest, Ferdinand, and King Alonso as he has official power. Robby is the sprite Ariel, and with the ship’ s cook, he is also one half of the clown team of drunken Stephano and Trinculo. The rest of the spaceship’s crew are the other shipwreck survivors. Critics often equate the id monster with Caliban, but outside of both of them being “bad,” there is no connection. However, lining up these characters means little. Shakespeare wasn’t the greatest writer of the English language because of his plots or his characters. It was his words, and none of those are used in Forbidden Planet.
The movie is at its best when Adams and his crew shut up. Then the story of the ancient Krell and their machines can unfold. What Morbius has done, both known and unknown, is interesting. Robby isn’t bad for comic relief, and as long as Altaira isn’t involved with the contrived romance with Adams, she is also engaging.
I have a low opinion of the concept of remakes, but here is an exception. Forbidden Planet has a lot going for it. If produced with good actors across the board, some non-distracting special effects, and the absence of sexism and racism, it could be a great movie. For now, watch it for its historical interest.