Forbidden Planet [Warner Brothers,50th Anniversary Edition]

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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 brand-new, restored widescreen transfer, with a remastered Dolby Digital 5.1 soundtrack, and a two-disc, special-edition set to celebrate its fiftieth anniversary.

"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," of all things, 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, banished to a deserted isle with his daughter and their experiences with enemies, spirits, beasts, slaves, and conjurations. In our movie, it's the year 2200 A.D., and Dr. Edward Morbius (Walter Pidgeon) and his daughter Altaira (Anne Francis) have been 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 corny 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 it, 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 melodramatic.

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