FORBIDDEN PLANET: Blu-ray (MGM, 1956) Warner Home Video

Hollywood’s first intellectual stab at science-fiction, sporting that inimitable MGM ultra-gloss, to have reached its zenith in the mid-1950’s; over the intervening decades, director Fred M. Wilcox's Forbidden Planet (1956) has been hailed, either as an innovative masterpiece (not quite) or painfully ridiculed as the worst sci-fi movie ever made (hardly!). Viewed today, there is little to deny MGM was going for broke to legitimize sci-fi - then, the red-headed stepchild of the industry. The studio threw every last measure of their pinnacled power at the screen with an impressive budget of $1,968,000, of which the picture only made back $2,765,000 – not a blockbuster, though doing respectable business nonetheless.  Begun under the far-more ominous working title, ‘Fatal Planet’, scripted by Irving Block and Allen Adler (ably assisted by the premise in a ‘little known’ English author’s stagecraft, William Shakespeare’s The Tempest), Block and Adler’s work would be passed on to Cyril Hume for refinement and finesse. The picture looks ahead, all the way to the planet Mercury and year - 1976, by which time, rather optimistically, we were anticipated to be jetting around the galaxy under our own steam in gargantuan saucers that, until Forbidden Planet, had been reserved as the mode of transportation for alien creatures from another world. Ah me, the optimism that once reigned in American society in general, and American movies in particular. Viewed today, Forbidden Planet has that unmistakable ‘MGM look’ to have afflicted a good many of its Cinemascope productions - studio-bound on indoor sets; herein, designed by Cedric Gibbons and Arthur Lonergan, with a lot of matte process work to simulate the vast expanses of this otherwise foreign world. The sets are, in fact, an ingenious combination of full-scale and model work, practically made seamless - Altair IV, with its Dr. Seuss-ian tree-lined landscapes, colorfully coded and over-sized super-computers from the presumably extinct Krell civilization, very much looking like the visitor’s center at a World’s Fair.   

Forbidden Planet ought not to be judged – harshly or otherwise – for the ‘corn’ in its cornucopia; the sight of a luscious and kittenish Anne Francis, as virginal sexpot, Alta, appearing in thigh-high mini-skirts nearly a decade before they became the modish fashion craze, or the rather smart, but un-space-like outfits, sans breathing apparatus, worn by the manly crew exploring these farthest foreign regions, looking like the convention center garb sported by Disney employees working a Tomorrowland concession (Tomorrowland, not yet created at Walt’s renown Anaheim theme park, though already in the preliminary planning stages by the time Forbidden Planet had its premiere). And then there is Robby the Robot to consider; a bulbous-bodied hulk of metal and glass, with working gears and cogs that, for the very first time, lent sincere credence to at least the possibility of artificial intelligence.  No, a lot of time, money, ingenuity and movie-magic of the highest order went into the creation of Forbidden Planet – painted cycloramas wed to animated special effects, never intended to be ‘the whole’ story, but rather cleverly employed in service to it; something, today’s endeavoring film makers toiling in sci-fi might best reconsider. And, if appearing hopelessly dated to downright quaint by today’s jaundice-eyed standards, it is important to remember the quantum up-tick Forbidden Planet represented in 1956 for sci-fi lovers; shot in the flawed hues of Eastmancolor and Cinemascope, and afforded either ‘scope’s full range of 6-track stereophonic sound, or, when unavailable, re-engineered in Perspecta ‘directionalized’ faux stereo for the smaller theatrical venues, yet to have retooled their sound systems. From top to bottom, Forbidden Planet was an A-list feature, elevating the state of the art and starring one of MGM’s finest contract players – Walter Pigeon, as the ill-fated scientist, Morbius.   

Having spent a mint on Forbidden Planet’s creation, virtually all of its sets and costumes were endlessly recycled thereafter to absorb costs, serving as backdrop on various episodes of Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone (1959-64), including Robby the Robot (who also became the prototype for the design of ‘the robot’ in Irwin Allen’s beloved TV series, Lost in Space, 1965-68).  At a cost of roughly $125,000, Robby the Robot was Forbidden Planet’s costliest gamble, eating into almost 7% of the picture’s budget. Putting things into perspective: to build a fully functioning ‘prop’ of his magnitude today would cost approximately $1 million.  Indeed, the iconic Robby would go on to have a life of his own; the star of MGM’s more modestly budgeted, The Invisible Boy (1957) – a thinly veiled follow-up, though hardly considered ‘sequel’ to Forbidden Planet, as well as appearing, in slightly altered form, in several TV shows, including MGM’s own The Thin Man, and the aforementioned The Twilight Zone.  By the mid-1950s, America had entered the atomic age, under siege from the very real threat of the newly inaugurated atom bomb and a growing paranoia that either communist Russia or the United States would unleash its awesome energy, thus bringing about world-wide Armageddon. For certain, post-war animosities that had ushered in the era of the Cold War, also played upon our paranoia for mankind’s doomed future – a concept, feathered into Cyril Hume’s final draft of the screenplay for Forbidden Planet. These factors weighed heavily on most sci-fi plots throughout the 1950’s, with the movies serving as parables for our inability to find a common ground among nations. During the first half of the decade, the most notably sci-fi thriller to emerge in this vein was Robert Wise's masterful, The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), framed as a cautionary tale about man's tampering with the laws of the universe to his own detriment. Regrettably, most of the stuff to follow Wise’s opus magnum proved little more than lowbrow nonsense; structured around primitive narratives shot on shoestring budgets. So, to state Forbidden Planet marked a stark departure from the status quo is not overstating its importance; rather, underestimating the farther-reaching influences it would have on a new generation of eager young film-makers to emerge from film schools in the late 1960’s; George Lucas, Ridley Scott, Steven Spielberg and John Landis among them.

Under an agreement with Walt Disney, Forbidden Planet’s technical wizardry would be unleashed to a finite level of what was then considered the apex of movie-land’s collaborative evolution in special effects. A. Arnold Gillespie, Irving G. Ries and Wesley C. Miller's Oscar-nominated SFX employed time-honored techniques to break new ground. As startling, Forbidden Planet’s departure from the plush orchestral underscores popularized since the dawn of the movies, in favor of an electronic-based set of cues by Louis and Bebe Barron.  Nevertheless, the achievement to garner the most praise, and indeed, outlast the picture’s perceived folly – even, its subsequent longevity as a sci-fi classic - remains Robby the Robot. Voiced with wry comic brilliance by Marvin Miller, and with his various vacuum tubes, cogs and neon electronics, whirling, churning and glowing in the dark, Robby was the first mobile robotic giant built for a movie to appear as though he actually might work in real life. Forbidden Planet begins ambitiously in the 23rd century with a United Planets’ Cruiser catapulting through space en route to Altair IV, a large gleaming planet sixteen light years from earth. Commander John J. Adams (Leslie Nielsen) has been assigned to discover the fate of a human expedition sent to Altair twenty years earlier. Through radio transmission, Adams makes contact with Dr. Edward Morbius (Walter Pidgeon) – a member of the original party. Hardly congenial, Morbius urges Adams and his crew to turn back without landing on the planet. Naturally, this ominous message makes the prospect of visiting Altair IV irresistible.

Morbius makes his guests welcome, although there is a hint of foreboding about his futuristic abode - particularly after Adams and his first officer, Lieutenant Jerry Farman (Jack Kelly) and Lieutenant Doc Ostrow (Warren Stevens) learn that all of the original expedition - save Morbius and his late wife - were torn limb from limb by some invisible force. To restrain this unseen beast, Morbius destroyed his escape ship, the Bellerophon, and, has since found peace and relative tranquility on this private island. After being introduced to Robby the Robot, Adams and his men meet Altaira (Anne Francis); Morbius' intellectually savvy though worldly naive daughter. Jerry attempts to educate Altaira in the ways of all flesh - an enterprise thwarted by Adams who then assumes the responsibility of bringing Altaira up to speed on such earthly pursuits. Their relationship is standoffish at first and fraught with misunderstandings. Gradually, however, the two begin to fall in love. Morbius provides Adams with the necessary supplies to construct a transmitter that will contact earth with their findings. But this proves a fruitless endeavor when the same invisible creature that murdered his party so many years before, now sneaks onto Adams ship late at night, murdering one of his crew and destroying the broadcast device. Very reluctantly, Morbius tells Adams about the Krell - a superior race of now extinct beings who built an underground utopia on Altair IV only to vanish as a civilization shortly thereafter - leaving behind no clue as to the cause of their sudden extinction.

Morbius takes Adams, Jerry and Doc on a tour of the Krell's fantastic subterranean world, charged by thermonuclear reactors in support of a series of self-regulating laboratories. Next, Morbius shows Adams the 'plastic educator', an apparatus designed to unleash the intellectual powers of the mind. The educator killed the Captain of the Bellerophon instantly when he tried to use it. Undaunted, Morbius tapped the devise for his own use and was astounded when his own intellectual capacity doubled as a result. The next evening, despite having erected a force field around his ship, the invisible creature returns, killing Lt. Farman and several other crew members. At the same instance Morbius, who has fallen asleep in the Krell laboratory, hears Altaira screaming. Adams arrives at Morbius' house and confronts him about the monster while Ostrow sneaks away to the underground lab to use the plastic educator. The device fatally cripples Ostrow but not before he reveals to Adams that the underground thermonuclear reactors were constructed to materialize any object or ‘thing’ the Krell could imagine. As such, it is Morbius now who has been commanding the deadly invisible terror that murdered his fellow countrymen and, presently, is picking off Adam's crew, one member at a time.

Morbius scoffs at this notion. However, when Altaira defies her father by declaring her love for Adams, the monster reappears and comes after them. Terrified, Morbius commands Robby to destroy the creature. However, recognizing the monster as an extension of Morbius' thoughts, Robby - who has been programmed to respect human life - cannot kill it. Adams, Altaira and Morbius take refuge in the Krell laboratory. But the invincible creature dissolves the metal doors and enters behind them. Morbius renounces the creature and attempts to intervene. He is mortally wounded by the creature, who has destroyed its creator and by extension, itself. The dying Morbius gives his blessing to Adams and Altaira, then instructs Adams to detonate the planet thereby putting an end to the possibility that a future civilization will reactivate the monster through their own subconscious design. Adams, Altaira and Robby escape aboard Adam's ship and watch from a safe distance as Altair IV self-destructs.

Nearly 70 years removed from all its marketing hype, Forbidden Planet remains a questionable masterpiece in the sci-fi genre. Certainly, it possessed the financial and artistic cache of MGM – then, the grandest motion picture studio in the world. And furthermore, as a movie, it predicted the future trajectory of science-fiction in the decades yet to come; the genre’s elevation from disposable Saturday matinee B-grade fluff to legitimized A-grade blockbuster.  If for no other reason, Forbidden Planet endures because of Walter Pigeon’s principled and powerful presence as Morbius; one of cinema’s truly tragic figures to be sure, incapable of finding peace, even in this Utopian vacuum of lonely perfection he has created for himself. The more unsettled performance comes from co-star, Leslie Nielsen; then, taking himself rather too seriously, with a fatalist streak in Adams. Nielsen’s Captain is a solitary commander, too by-the-book to allow for any off-the-record fraternization with his crew, and too butch to pass upon the opportunity to seduce Altaira, the intergalactic sexpot who has, presumably, been waiting for him all her life. Anne Francis’ turn as the leggy Altaira has oft since been debated in feminist scholarship, either as a shameful example of the fifties’ interpretation of ‘the little woman’ or a woman coming into her own as she willfully migrates her loyalties from her own father to Adams; the intermediary whose love sways Morbius from his self-imposed exile and gradually reawakens Adam's otherwise distant heart. Let’s just say she’s very fun to look at and leave it at that! In the final analysis, Forbidden Planet is an interesting anomaly. At once, it marks the turning point, but also bridges the gap between low budget nonsense and high-concept melodrama; a sort of sci-fi horror story where kitschy things go bump in the night.

Warner Home Video's Blu-Ray of Forbidden Planet is now well over a decade old – released only several months after the deluxe DVD edition, and, during Blu-ray’s infancy. As such, the image quality herein leaves a good deal to be desired. This 1080p transfer is, arguably, not a true hi-def upgrade but merely an up-conversion of the remastered elements used for the DVD from 2007. As such, only marginal improvements exist. While given some obvious consideration, Warner likely never spent the dollars to do a complete restoration on this deep catalog release. Image quality is distinctly hampered by the fact Forbidden Planet was shot in Eastmancolor – cheaper than Technicolor, but also far less robust in achieving a consistent color palette. Over time, Eastman stock has also proven to be highly unstable, with vinegar syndrome (a virtual implosion of its monopack dye transfer) distinctly problematic. Forbidden Planet in hi-def reveals Eastmancolor’s shortcomings; one shot looking quite refined with good solid color density, followed by another appearing anemic, slightly out of focus, and, sporting muddy hues. Owing to their crudeness in compositing, special effects shots suffer from an amplification of film grain and even more image instability and wan colors. Overall, the image appears woefully undernourished. We will assume Warner Home Video did at least some preliminary work to ready this deep catalog title for hi-def. But again, this disc is more than 10 years old, and looks at least double the age of its master. Worse, there remains some baked-in age-related dirt and scratches – most, glaringly evident in the composites where miniatures and live-action footage interact. It would be prudent for Warner’s to revisit Forbidden Planet with a new hi-def scan, possibly in 4K, with more attention paid to achieve optimal quality for its optical effects’ shots. These were cutting edge in 1956. They certainly do not look it today! The 5.1 TruHD audio could certainly use a DTS upgrade as well.

Extras are all direct imports from the 2-disc Deluxe DVD edition, but have been crammed onto a single Blu-ray. If Forbidden Planet ever gets revisited, Warner should endeavor to maximize the disc’s bit rate entirely for the feature on one disc, and all of these intergalactic goodies on another. Honestly, would it break the bank to spend an extra 10 cents to include another disc for a 2-disc affair? Warner did not think so when it released the DVD edition. Extras are as follows: Robby the Robot's follow-up; The Invisible Boy (1957) - a bizarre sci-fi adventure in B&W that mixes playful homespun charm with ominous evil. We get trailers for this ‘sequel’ and Forbidden Planet too. There is also Robby's appearance on an episode of television's The Thin Man and a pair of documentaries; the first, ‘Keep Watching the Skies’ - a superb homage to science-fiction in the 1950s, with many noted film-makers from today weighing in; the second, a solid 'making of' Forbidden Planet. Tragically, none of these have been up-converted from their 720i DVD quality.  Again, it would be prudent of Warner Brothers to revisit Forbidden Planet in the future (no pun intended) with a new scan and master, and, remastered extras. All the content is already here. It just needs a bit more massaging, love and attention paid to it. Bottom line: recommended…for now. Keep watching the skies!

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

2.5

EXTRAS

5+