TCM Greatest Classic Films: Sci-FI (2001, Soylent Green, Forbidden Planet, The Time Machine) (DVD)

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As I've said before, Warner Bros. own what is probably the most extensive back catalogue of great older films on Earth, and they never tire of devising new ways to repackage them. In 2009 they began a series of sets they call the "TCM (Turner Classic Movies) Greatest Classic Films Collection," which package four classic movies per set. Although the studio released all of the films separately before, the collections are a relatively easy way for fans to acquire a large number of great motion pictures for very little money. Indeed, these sets are among the best values in the history of DVDs.

The set reviewed here, "Sci-Fi," is in WB's third wave of collections and offers one so-so sci-fi film, one good sci-fi film, one excellent sci-fi film, and one genuine sci-fi ultimate classic. (For the other collections in WB's third wave, see the closing paragraph.) Each set contains two double-sided DVDs, one movie per side, enclosed in a double slim-line keep case, with a slipcover and unique bonus materials. If there is any concern at all with the set, it's an issue we can all live with: That is having to mention "2001: A Space Odyssey" and "Soylent Green" in the breath. Nevertheless, let's look at the movies chronologically.

FORBIDDEN PLANET
Critics often cite MGM's 1956 release "Forbidden Planet" as the most-important science-fiction movie up until its time, and I won't argue. I was in the sixth grade when it appeared and couldn't wait to see it. It was the "Star Wars" of its time. The studio advertised it on cereal boxes and lunch pails, and Robby the Robot became a household name. If today it doesn't quite live up to its reputation, it's through no fault of Warner Bros., who have done it up in a restored widescreen transfer, with a remastered Dolby Digital 5.1 soundtrack.

"Forbidden Planet" boasted better special effects than Hollywood had bestowed upon any science-fiction movie before it, and I remember being wowed by them as a kid. In fact, it would not be until Stanley Kubrick's groundbreaking "2001: A Space Odyssey" over a dozen years later that any movie would surpass its visual magic. Then, of course, once Kubrick topped everything that came before it with uncanny realism, all bets were off. "Forbidden Planet" didn't look quite so spectacular anymore. Nevertheless, in this new Cinemascope color restoration, it still looks pretty good.

Based on a fanciful reworking of Shakespeare's "The Tempest," plus a psychological treatise on the id, "Forbidden Planet" is a forerunner of things like "Star Trek," "Star Wars," and "Lost in Space." Surely, there is more than coincidence involved in the "Trek" ship's crew and the one in this film, and surely the androids in Lucas's movie originated somewhere around here. The less said about "Lost in Space," the better. The psychology and Shakespeare angles, though, are ones where "Forbidden Planet" must concede a good deal to Freud and the Bard, but at least the film had sense enough to echo the best.

You may remember Shakespeare's tale of Prospero the magician and his daughter, banished to a deserted isle, and their experiences with enemies, spirits, beasts, slaves, and conjurations. In the movie, it's the year 2200 A.D., and Dr. Edward Morbius (Walter Pidgeon) and his daughter Altaira (Anne Francis) find themselves stranded for twenty years on a desolate planet in a faraway solar system, waited upon by the doctor's trusted servant, the robot he has created, Robby. Coming to their rescue is Captain J.J. Adams (Leslie Nielson, in his pre-funnyman days) and a crew of intrepid outer-space explorers. Interestingly, space explorers of the twenty-third century are all white males between the ages of twenty-five and thirty. Must be a law they passed.

Morbius isn't too keen on being rescued. He says it's too dangerous to land, but Capt. Adams is insistent. They haven't come all this way for nothing. Morbius tells them that there is "some dark, terrible, incomprehensible force" holding the planet in its grip, and that "some devilish thing that never once showed itself" tore his companions apart limb from limb many years before. Ever since, Morbius has sensed the creature close at hand and in his dreams.

The first half of the movie goes by rather slowly, mostly plodding talk, but director Fred M. Wilcox ("Lassie Come Home," "The Secret Garden") finally brings the second half to life. Here, we learn about the Krell, the advanced but long-extinct civilization that once inhabited the planet, and their fantastic technology. It's here, too, that not only does the id come into play but a good dose of Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" as well.

In its favor, Pidgeon's acting embellishes the story by the seriousness of his approach, which tends to raise the film's level from melodramatic sci-fi to a higher intellectualism. There is also a wonderfully spacey, atmospheric musical score, called "electronic tonalities," by Louis and Bebe Barron; some very impressive scenes in the Krell's underground facilities; and, of course, Robby the Robot (voiced by actor Marvin Miller), who steals the show, upstaging everybody in every scene he's in.

Tending to work against the movie, at least, I would guess, for many of today's younger audience, are the movie's costumes, color schemes, and set designs, all of which reflect the hard, angular, ultramodern styles of the 1950s. Then, too, the outdoor scenes often suffer from being too stage bound, not always looking like the vast planet-scapes they're depicting. Ms. Francis's skimpy skirts, a romantic rivalry between the Captain and his Executive Officer (Jack Kelly), the inevitably wise ship's doctor (Warren Stevens), and a cook (Earl Holliman) whom the filmmakers clearly intended as light comic relief may also come across as more than a bit corny.

But despite elements that can seem clichéd today, "Forbidden Planet" has a strong sense of maturity about it, a kind of moral imperative that "Star Trek" episodes would often emulate years later. The movie asks the fundamental question raised by "The Tempest": If you had all the power in the universe, how would you exercise it against your foes? Besides that, the film is still pleasant on the eyes. It's best to enjoy it for what it is and not for what you might want it to be.

Film rating: 7/10

THE TIME MACHINE
Among the opportunities that home video has afforded us is the chance to revisit some of the favorite sci-fi fantasy films of our youth. To a young imagination, one of the true classics was George Pal's 1960 production of H.G. Wells's "The Time Machine." It may not hold up to close scrutiny today, but it is always good to welcome back an old friend, timeworn or not.

As far as the story goes, the filmmakers managed to mislay most of Mr. Wells' eloquent language and philosophical questions in favor of a simplified "Classics Illustrated" approach. Rod Taylor ("The Birds," "Do Not Disturb") stars as H.G. Wells himself, only he's not a writer in the story, he's an inventor. Australian-born but thoroughly Americanized Taylor does his best to effect an English accent, but, regrettably, it comes and goes. The year is just before the turn of the twentieth century, and Wells has contrived his famous "time machine." In fact, the machine itself is the best part of the picture, all ornate mahogany, brass, velvet, and crystal, looking very much the Victorian artifact it's supposed to be. Taylor uses it to propel himself through two World Wars, a nuclear holocaust, and on to the year 802701. There he discovers that civilization has degenerated into two classes of people--the Eloi, beautiful, young, and passive, and the Morlocks, ugly and destructive. The names tell the story. The Eloi live above ground in a virtual paradise, but they have no culture, do no work, and have practically no minds; they are mere vegetables. The troglodyte Morlocks live underground and feed off the Eloi. In fact, they breed the Eloi as food, much as we breed cattle and sheep, taking them down into their subterranean caverns to butcher and eat them. Needless to say, this societal split gives the story some small room for moralizing and some room for Taylor heroically to show the Eloi a better way of living. Yeah, like not dying. Besides Taylor, the cast includes Alan Young as the hero's best friend; Yvette Mimeux as the hero's Eloi love interest; and Sebastian Cabot as a doctor who scoffs at the idea of time travel.

I appreciate that screenwriter David Duncan and director George Pal chose to keep the initial time frame in Wells's own day, 1899, as well as keep the place setting, England, rather than try to modernize the story or put it somewhere else. In the two major film versions of Wells's "The War of the World" (1953 and 2005), for instance, the filmmakers updated the time setting and relocated the physical setting to America. "The Time Machine" remains more true to Wells's intentions and retains its period charm. However, I could have done without some of the filmmakers' plot changes, especially the nuclear war they placed in 1966. Maybe before video tape and DVDs, filmmakers thought less about the longevity of their products, in this case figuring that at the height of the Cold War in 1960 it would be a good topical touch to show a devastating holocaust just a few years in the future. Viewed today it just seems silly. I mean, the filmmakers had thousands of years to play with, yet they chose 1966 to destroy the world; obviously, they didn't figure audiences might still be watching their movie fifty years on.

Other picky faults stand out today in "The Time Machine" that I hadn't noticed as a kid. The several fight scenes between Taylor and the Morlocks look badly choreographed, Taylor's punches clearly missing their targets by a foot or more while the soundtrack supplies some feeble contact noise. The filmmakers use cheap, five-and-dime-store toy cars in a scene where lava envelops a city street. Exceptionally phony miniatures attempt to replicate the Morlock's underground empire being destroyed. We see a Morlock set afire wearing a blazing sweater that we suppose to be his skin. OK, admittedly these criticisms were products of the film's budget constraints; what I always thought of as a lavish production turns out on closer inspection to be a low-budget affair, the whole project coming in, according the accompanying documentary, at about $750,000. Nowadays you couldn't hire a leading actor for that money. There's little excuse for the detail oversights, though. For example, where do the Eloi, who do no work, get their perfectly fitting clothes? Surely not from the Morlocks, who don't even appear capable of clothing themselves properly. And how do the Eloi women manage such meticulous hair styles, and who supplies their makeup and their false eyelashes? And how do the men shave or cut their hair without knives, razors, or electricity? And, worst of all, how can we believe that the English language would remain unchanged for over three-quarters of a million years? Most of us can't even understand what our kids are saying today. But I harp on trivialities. This is a comic-book adaptation with comic-book sensibilities.

Film rating: 6/10

2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY
"2001" does nothing less than attempt to deal with some of the ultimate questions of the universe: Who are we, where did we come from, and where are we going? The movie deals with the evolution of the human race and then muses on the probability that not only is Mankind not alone in the universe, but that we may have had outside help with our development. The screenplay, co-authored by Kubrick and science-fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke, contains little plot and even less dialogue. Yet it conveys through its eloquent, often majestic images and creative inferences answers to age-old mysteries. Clarke said the film was "...an attempt to convey the probable place of Man in the hierarchy of the universe." Clarke went on to write three more books about the continuing adventure, in the process providing too much banal explanation for the far more imaginative possibilities he and Kubrick first proposed in "2001." Yet if one can put aside the author's later over-clarifications, one can revel in the film's endless mysteries and argue interpretations until the suns come up. Alternatively, if viewers prefer not to think about any of it at all, they can take pleasure in just watching the gorgeous scenery and listening to the atmospheric music. Again and again.