This is a film to which the genre owes a considerable debt. Upon just my first viewing of Forbidden Planet, I saw elements used by 2001: A Space Odyssey, Star Trek (some say the series never would have existed if it wasn't for this film), Star Wars, and Solaris (1972, and thus the 2002 version as well), and even less important ones such as Sphere. If such evidence of influence and inspiration is also proof of a film's quality, there you have it. If you don't necessarily buy that, then you should see it anyway because this is one great movie.

The film could have begun in no better way: a view of space, and into our view flies a vintage flying saucer. This flying saucer, however, is piloted by humans. The crew, led by Commander John J. Adams (played by Leslie Nielsen, no less) and Lieutenants "Doc" Ostrow and Jerry Farman, is nearing the end of a year-long voyage to Altair-4. Their voyage is in fact a rescue-reconnaissance mission for the crew of the Belerophon, which was sent to the planet twenty years ago and has not since been heard from. They are "greeted" by Belerophon crewmember Dr. Edward Morbius, who fervently advises them not to land, explaining that his hands are clean of whatever might befall them if they do. I don't have to tell you whether they take his advice.

The story then turns gradually and almost slyly into a classic Babylonian tale. Morbius, the only surviving crew member, has learned that the planet was eons ago inhabited by a race of beings called the Krell, a race so ancient that they walked our Earth long before the existence of man (but not before the existence of animals). They even took some samples of the specimens they found. The Krell came infinitely close to technologically reaching the apex of humanity, even nearing the divine, at which point they suddenly and inexplicably became extinct. How did Morbius survive the "terrible, incomprehensible force" to which the other crew members fell? Morbius' answer is not entirely clear. Why did the Krell disappear ages ago? He doesn't know yet. It might comfort you, though, to know that the answer actually lies entirely in logic -- the linearity of what this extent of technological achievement would mean. This is something that other Babylon stories do not give us.

You've probably noticed that the film's title, too, is a religious reference (forbidden planet, forbidden fruit). Remember that the Biblical forbidden fruit was of the tree of knowledge -- a pre-Babylon Babylonian story itself ("[I]n the day ye eat thereof," the serpent said to Eve, "then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods"¹). And Forbidden Planet is all about knowledge. The crew's mission, after all, is to gather knowledge as to the fate of the Belerophon's crew. This creates in the film a double warning, as both technological advancement and space exploration are presented as two separate, though related, proofs of mankind's lust for knowledge. This understanding of the film can redeem the childlike bumbling of the cook, who, the first time we see him, complains, "Another one of them new worlds. No beer, no women, no pool parlors. Nothing." Unlike the Babylonians, the cook is content with simply living and having fun.

All of this also leads to the tragedy of Dr. Morbius. His astonishing intelligence made him a devil, and he never even realized it. It is ultimately for the same reason, which would be a spoiler to fully explain, that Altair-4 is referred to, albeit only in the title, as a "forbidden planet." Morbius found the forbidden tree, the Krell technology, and dove in, an act which was almost fatal the second it happened, and was fatal to others before long. Our main characters are luckily unable to effectively pick from the tree, so they are spared the fate. In the end, Morbius does realize what he has become, so he willfully redeems himself at the natural cost of his transgression.

Among all of this are two more elements that greatly contribute to the pleasure of the film: the setting and the score. The setting is simply stunning. The lush colors of the planet's environment, even the sky and its contrast with the planet itself, are gorgeous and are not over-the-top vibrant or simply weird. The score works a little differently. It's a little hard to pinpoint just what sort of feeling it should evoke. The distant, eerie, and, at times, liquid-sounding score is the outer space version of classical music. And a small point in the plot gives it even more immediacy later in the film. It is very much like space itself: It is vast and empty but undeniably intriguing.

Movies also have to entertain us, though. A movie as thematically and philosophically loaded as this one would seem to leave little room for fun. Somehow, though, it provides that, too. In fact, for someone looking at only the film's superficial elements, it might be expected that this is pure sci-fi camp. There are laser guns, teleportation beams, a robot (which would become famous), an invisible monster, a flying saucer -- how could it not be fun? This also shapes it to fit into that for-all-ages category that can be so difficult to accomplish. It's fun and innocent on the outside but dangerously insightful on the inside. I first watched Forbidden Planet expecting a mildly entertaining space romp. What I got was much more. Whatever you're looking for, if you like science fiction, Forbidden Planet delivers, in classic 1950s style.