FORBIDDEN PLANET (1956)

An enduring genre fan favourite, Forbidden Planet had a huge influence on the cinema of science fiction that followed. Now, to mark its 70th anniversary, Arrow Video present a definitive 4K restoration on Limited Edition Ultra HD and Blu-ray. Sourced from the original 35mm negative and available for the first time on home media in its intended Cinemascope aspect ratio with original theatrical Perspecta stereo soundtrack.

Very much of its time and yet in many respects far ahead of it, Forbidden Planet changed the trajectory of sci-fi by combining a gorgeous Golden Age aesthetic with intelligent storytelling and elements of psychological horror. Nothing quite like it had been seen before. It was the first film to be set in a future where humans have become a space-borne, interplanetary civilisation with faster-than-light ships, and where none of the action occurs on Earth. Its legacy echoes through the classic television shows and movies that followed—-from The Twilight Zone (1959-1964) to Star Trek (1966-69), and from 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) to Star Wars (1977).

Made in 1950s America, the film reflects the societal values of that time and place: the cast is entirely white and subject to gendered stereotyping, particularly the sole female character. However, this creates an interesting dichotomy for today’s audiences; it reflects negative aspects that persist in many cultures while presenting an optimistic model of a possible future. It also delivers a caveat that’s even more pertinent now than it was then regarding rapid technological advancement without matching philosophical development. Such conflict only adds an extra layer to what remains one of the finest works of cinematic art in both aesthetics and themes.

No one can deny that, halfway through the 20th century, science fiction movies finally caught up with the level of intelligence already asserting itself in the genre’s literature. Perhaps Robert Wise’s The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) can be counted as one of the earlier examples, arriving a few years ahead of The War of the Worlds (1953), The Quatermass Xperiment (1955), and This Island Earth (1955)—the only notable precursors to Forbidden Planet.

After the lofty aspirations of pioneering fin de siècle novelists like Mary Shelley, Edgar Allan Poe, Jules Verne, and H.G Wells, science fiction’s popularity took it along the path to “pulp”. Seminal stories such as the Skylark series, by E.E ‘Doc’ Smith with Lee Hawkins Garby, and Buck Rogers, by Philip Francis Nowlan, were among those published in 1928 by Amazing Stories. The colourful cover art of the first periodical dedicated to thrilling tales of speculative science also established how sci-fi should look. Among the plethora of similar magazines that followed was the equally influential Astounding Stories which, under the editorial stewardship of John W. Campbell, is said to have heralded the Golden Age of science fiction. This era, defining the genre through the 1940s and 1950s, was typified by ambitious, space-spanning stories with profound, philosophically challenging content.

By contrast, monstrous metaphors for atomic-age paranoia had infested the world’s screens with massive mutants. The majority of these relied on a “look at the size of that thing” spectacle that invariably failed due to budgetary and technical shortcomings. Yet the post-war public loved them, so the studios churned out B-movies and drive-in fodder. There were a couple of notable exceptions from opposite sides of the globe. From those delivering the nuclear nightmare, we have the superior creature-feature Them! (1954), and from those suffering its legacy, Godzilla (1954)—both surprisingly sophisticated responses to a weighty issue.

Just as the genre was rooted in literary beginnings, Irving Block saw untapped potential in pulp periodicals and the proven popularity of the intellectual stories he’d read in print. As a special effects technician and scenic matte painter, he understood the cinematic possibilities and technical limitations of such fantastical world-building.

Block was already making a name for himself, despite his first notable job being buried under a lawsuit. He’d been art director, working with stop-frame animator Lou Bunin, on Alice in Wonderland (1949), which was pulled from US distribution following pressure from Disney, who feared it would pre-empt their own version. It was also refused distribution in Britain because the Queen of Hearts was thought to be an unpatriotic pastiche of Queen Victoria.

More relevantly, Irving Block was the matte artist for Kurt Neumann’s Rocket-Ship XM (1950), which claimed to be the first serious feature film about “man’s conquest of space.” The following year, he contributed special visual effects for B-movies of varied quality, including Flight to Mars (1951) and Invaders from Mars (1951). He then graduated to producer for Unknown World (1951), about a mission to explore the Earth’s depths to escape nuclear annihilation. After bemoaning the lack of sophistication in such films to colleague Allen Adler, the pair set themselves the challenge of writing a high-concept sci-fi story to redress the problem before audiences lost interest in the genre.

By 1954, they were pitching Fatal Planet to producer Nicholas Nayfack at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. They must have been unsure of their chances, as MGM had never made a science fiction film, but they also knew the studio offered the best hope of raising a sufficient budget. Block also had insider knowledge, having already worked with the studio’s matte painting crew.

Nayfack was expecting another monster movie he could easily dismiss but was immediately intrigued by the idea of an invisible monster. For one thing, he thought it would be cheap to shoot—and that was enough of a hook to seal the deal. He was aware of recent prestige productions like War of the Worlds for Paramount and This Island Earth for Universal, which had been critically well-received but still struggled to recoup their large budgets.

Irving Block was offered the role of associate producer but declined to accept unless it was shared with Allen Adler. Instead, he was re-hired as a concept artist and uncredited production designer, collaborating with art director Arthur Lonergan. He also had input into the story development, working with Cyril Hume, who was tasked with the screenplay.

Hume was a seasoned writer who’d entered the industry when his 1923 debut novel, The Wife of the Centaur, was filmed by King Vidor. His early draft was retitled Forbidden Planet to emphasise the mystery. This, alongside Block’s plentiful concept art and additional storyboarding by Mentor Huebner, secured the production.

Fred McLeod Wilcox was assigned as director. Though he had no sci-fi experience, he was considered a safe pair of hands, having directed three successful Lassie movies. Perhaps over-compensating for his lack of genre experience, he spent three months planning the shoot and consulting with physicists and engineers at Harvard and MIT to ensure the science sounded feasible.

Initially, Block envisaged something with the gravitas of a Wellsian classic. Apparently, it was Adler who suggested that instead of looking to “The Shakespeare of Science Fiction”, they go back further and borrow from the Bard himself. Thus, they decided to use The Tempest as their template.

Although some critics argue the connection is tenuous, there are enough blatant Shakespearean parallels for the movie to be considered an adaptation. In turn, Gene Roddenberry never openly admitted that Forbidden Planet directly influenced Star Trek, citing instead E.E ‘Doc’ Smith’s Skylark stories and NBC’s Wagon Train. However, Roddenberry’s biographer, David Alexander, noted a production memo acknowledging the film’s influence and advising the crew to avoid directly copying the film’s “mechanics”. He may not have been entirely successful; many view it as an unofficial pilot or a prequel set in the same universe.

The film opens on board the United Planets Starship C-57D, which seems to comply with the numbering convention later employed by Star Trek’s United Federation of Planets. Not only that, but in the first few lines of dialogue, the mark for their ship to drop out of faster-than-light (FTL) speed is “1701.” Coincidental? Probably. But it’s certainly noteworthy that this was the first time the concept of FTL travel appeared on screen with an awareness of the physical toll of acceleration. To overcome this, the crew steps into beams of green energy that look remarkably like Trek’s transporters.

The C-57D has arrived at Altair IV, where a scientific survey went missing 20 years prior. Commander Adams (Leslie Nielsen) is warned to stay away by Dr Morbius (Walter Pidgeon), but Adams continues his mission regardless. On landing, they’re greeted by the iconic Robby the Robot, who escorts the Commander and his lieutenants to the well-appointed home of Dr Morbius. Arthur Lonergan wanted a plush design inspired by the modernist architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright—a decision that looks very cool, even if it raises questions about the Doctor’s priorities.

Robby is arguably the star here. Beyond the beautiful design, he demonstrates Block’s familiarity with Isaac Asimov’s “three laws of robotics”. Dr Morbius demonstrates the robot’s compliance by ordering it to shoot the Commander; Robby, unable to harm a human, is locked in a logic loop that would destroy him if the order weren’t countermanded.

Robby was the result of a long design process costing around $125,000, making him one of the most expensive props ever created. Based on Block’s sketches, he was developed by Robert Kinoshita. The finished seven-foot-tall prop was so close to the wooden maquette Kinoshita carved that the model was used in the miniature sequences.

The seamless combination of full-size sets, miniatures, and superb scenic paintings gives the film its unique visual identity. Today, it still looks fantastic. The organic skill of the model makers and painters lends a richness that “look development” in today’s CG-dominated industry often lacks. Records from the era don’t explicitly credit all the crew, but it is assumed veteran matte artist Henri Hillinck created much of the illusion regarding the barren surface and the 20-mile-wide subterranean Krell machines.

Of course, these visuals are sold by the accompanying sound design by Bebe and Louis Barron, who composed the first-ever entirely electronic score. They avoided calling it music, preferring the term “electronic tonalities”.

Dr Morbius explains that the rest of his team were killed by a formless planetary force. He strongly suggests the newcomers leave before they fall victim to the same fate. However, he neglects to tell them about the vast machines abandoned by the ancient, long-vanished Krell.

The three men are readying to depart when they’re surprised by the entrance of the Doctor’s daughter, Altaira (Anne Francis). Comedic sexist interactions litter the second act as the officers compete for her affections. The Commander berates her for showing too much skin, telling her to cover up because it would be her fault if anything “untoward” happened. Nevertheless, a romance blossoms—a necessity for 1950s audiences. This also explains the “comedy drunk” character of the Cook (Earl Holliman), who convinces Robby to produce gallons of bourbon.

The swimming pool was added to the set to facilitate a scene where Altaira’s skinny-dipping flusters Commander Adams. She is portrayed as an innocent with a rapport with wild animals. The presence of Earth fauna—deer, monkeys, and a tiger—lends the home a “Garden of Eden” appearance. The tiger was a deliberate nod to the “unicorn” of myth, which can only be tamed by an unsullied maiden.

This was a nod to Jungian and Freudian psychoanalysis, which was enjoying a renaissance as Americans processed post-war trauma. Block and Adler decided that instead of an alien threat, the monsters we carry in our subconscious are the scariest. This is the core element taken from The Tempest.

In Shakespeare’s play, the magician Prospero flees to an island with his daughter, Miranda. There, he discovers the magic of the witch Sycorax and her monstrous son, Caliban. When a ship arrives from Italy, the crew interferes with Prospero’s isolation and competes for Miranda’s affections. In Forbidden Planet, Morbius lives on a planet with his daughter, Altaira. He discovers a Krell machine that can alter reality, but his primal urges manifest as a “Monster from the Id”. The film reshuffles and recasts all the key elements from the original play.

Forbidden Planet was a moderate success, earning back its $1.9M budget. Its influence on subsequent science fiction is undeniable. Robby went on to have a life beyond the movie, making more than 20 cameos in television shows including Columbo. In 2017, the original Robby prop sold at auction for more than $5.3M. Author George R.R Martin owns a full-size replica; I own a 22 cm tinplate wind-up one.

“I’ll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And deeper than did ever plummet sound I’ll drown my book.”—Prospero

USA | 1956 | 98 MINUTES | 2.55:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH

The Invisible Boy (1957)

This cleaned-up print of an above-par 1950s B-movie starring Robby the Robot is a highlight of the bonus material here. Producer Nicholas Nayfack saw potential in Robby beyond Forbidden Planet—after all, the prop was both expensive and distinctive. Surely, it deserved another outing. He hired Cyril Hume again to pen the screenplay, this time based on short stories by Edmund Cooper, a prolific English author across several genres but best known for his speculative science fiction.

Nayfack formed Pan Productions and decided that this would be a suitable debut for his independent company. He brought back Irvin Block to oversee production design, and MGM offered further crew and facilities, but Nayfack wanted to make the film on his own terms—even though that meant a comparatively meagre budget. He used the studios for the most impressive set: the supercomputer control room. Designed by seasoned art director Merril Pye, it was constructed with a team that included engineers from Radiophone Inc. and Remington Rand—known as gunmakers for the US Army, but then just venturing into early mainframe computers. For me, the production design is the real star of the show, and I appreciated how the central unit resembled both Robby the Robot’s technology and something visually similar to our modern quantum computers.

Dr Tom Merrinoe (Philip Abbott) heads a government project operating from a top-secret underground base. He leads a team developing a massive computer loaded with the ‘sum of all human knowledge’, tasked with controlling a new orbital missile platform that’s about to launch. The goal is to gain immediate supremacy and ensure no other nation—meaning the Russians—can launch a nuclear strike. However, the computer predicts that nuclear war would be inevitable and immediate if the plan were leaked ahead of launch.

During research and development, the computer begins designing and improving its own systems. Dr Merrinoe realises, too late, that many of its improvements were creative suggestions indicating original thought—something the machine shouldn’t have been capable of. Right under the scientific team’s noses, the computer schemes to achieve autonomy and upload itself onto the space platform, thus gaining supremacy on its own terms before aiming for world domination. The same concept lay at the core of the Cold War classic Colossus: The Forbin Project (1970), which could almost be considered a superior remake—minus the invisible boy shenanigans.

The boy is Dr Merrinoe’s son, Timmie (Richard Eyer), a precociously talented 12-year-old actor with a dozen prior screen appearances. These notably included Ralphy Hilliard in William Wyler’s The Desperate Hours (1955), though I knew him as the Genie in The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958). For a 1950s American kid, he isn’t too annoying and never once says “Gee-whiz, Mister!”. Instead, he’s realistically naïve and far more convincing as the son than Abbott is as the loving father who also spanks his child—a classic snapshot of the 1950s disciplinarian dad. That said, Abbott carries the role of a boffin well enough without feeling cliched or caricatured, effectively highlighting his character’s work-life imbalance.

A tenuous connection to Forbidden Planet is hinted at through a woefully underdeveloped plot thread: the project’s former director claimed he travelled to the far future and saw technological wonders, returning with designs for a marvellous robot that he never managed to finish building before being removed on grounds of insanity. When Dr Merrinoe tests the computer’s experimental speed-learning program on Timmie, the machine uses its array of indicator lights to hypnotise the boy and ‘programme’ him with the knowledge needed to complete the robot from the future. Once Robby is fully functional, further trickery enables the supercomputer to reprogram it to surgically implant microcircuits into the scientists’ brains, controlling them via a wireless neural link.

The movie loses momentum in the middle as Timmie befriends Robby. Whilst under the supercomputer’s influence, the robot renders the boy invisible. Timmie thinks it’s great fun, giving the VFX team plenty of opportunities to levitate objects as Timmie pranks his parents and gets his own back on the local bully. However, it isn’t all innocent fun; it’s part of a dastardly plot to use Timmie as a bargaining chip and human shield.

The Invisible Boy is a solid, if dated, family-friendly Saturday-matinee offering featuring 1950s gender stereotypes alongside prescient ‘hard’ science fiction concepts. Not only does it predict the 1983 Strategic Defence Initiative (SDI)—commonly known as ‘the Star Wars program’—it imagines the plausible threat of agentic artificial intelligence and anticipates the type of brain-computer interfaces that have only recently become practical. Plus, there’s Robby the Robot.

USA | 1957 | 90 MINUTES | 1.85 : 1 | BLACK & WHITE | ENGLISH

Limited Edition 4K Ultra HD Blu-ray Special Features:

• NEW 4K restoration from the original 35mm negative by Arrow Films in the original 2.55:1 aspect ratio.
• Reversible sleeve featuring original artwork options
• Double-sided fold-out poster
• Collectors’ booklet containing new writing by critics Frank Collins and Johnny Mains, plus select archival material. The booklet was not available at the time of review, except for a preview of the incredibly detailed essay by the ever-erudite Collins in which he tracks the film from concept to completion. He discusses parallels between the Shakespearian and Freudian aspects of the script before placing the production into the historical, contextual, and psychological framework of mid-20th-century USA, while embedding Renaissance concerns about utopia and colonialism. He examines other Freudian readings of Shakespeare, with particular mention of W.H Auden’s poetic reinterpretations of The Tempest from a 1944 poem, and situates Forbidden Planet’s Id-monster within the 1950s cultural fascination with psychotherapy and sexual repression. Collins also spends time covering the influence that Norbert Wiener’s writings on cybernetics had on Bebe and Louis Barron and their exploration of electronic music and sound sculpture. Knowing that the sound of the Krell machines we hear behind the final scenes of Morbius also destroyed the circuitry that generated it adds an extra fatalistic dimension to the finale. With sustained reasoning and intellectual rigour, Collins frames the film as a modern myth: a meditation on power, fatherhood, utopian ambition, and the dangers of a civilisation that fails to anticipate the monsters born from its own mind—for technology is created to realise our desires.

Disc 1: Feature (4K Ultra HD & Blu-ray):

• Forbidden Planet 4K (2160p) Ultra HD Blu-ray presentation in Dolby Vision (HDR10 compatible) . Its Eastman colours are clearer and more vivid than ever, with better grading of hues and tonality that could easily have been lost in oversaturation. The colour timing is meticulous and stable throughout. Clarity is pin-sharp without harshness, showcasing every detail of the gorgeous costumes, production design, and glorious matte paintings. The grey tones, from the near-black of deep shadow to highlights, are rich and textured with sensitive management of the original cinematic grain.
• Restored original lossless mono, restored original Perspecta stereo, and DTS-HD MA 5.1 audio options. Clear, dynamic, and virtually noiseless. Great separation on dialogue, which is also noticeably directional. Deep bass and crisp high-end.
• Optional English subtitles for the hard of hearing
• NEW audio commentary by film historians Kim Newman and Barry Forshaw. So much has already been written about this definitive classic, and with so much information crammed into the bonus material, it’s difficult to avoid repetition. However, Newman and Forshaw manage to drop in plenty of their own asides and observations, making this a very worthwhile listen. Clearly, they’re both genre enthusiasts and fans of the film. They begin by recalling their first experiences of the movie—Forshaw in the 1950s on the big screen, Newman in the 1970s on television. They quickly agree that it remains emblematic of the whole genre with space travel, ray guns, an alien civilisation, a mad scientist, a monster, and “the best robot ever”. They discuss the intellectual aspects of the script and its parallels with The Tempest, pointing out both the similarities and differences as they track the movie’s development from script to screen, with Newman making an interesting observation regarding possible Lovecraftian influences. They compare genre tropes with wartime romances, westerns, and contemporary science fiction. Along the way, they naturally cover the cast and their relevant filmographies. Of course, they also discuss the experimental score, the VFX, and aspects of the production design, pointing out props that lived on in later movies such as The Time Machine (1960) and many episodes of The Twilight Zone (1959–1964).

Disc 2 : The Invisible Boy & Extras (Blu-ray):

• Unearthly Aura (2026) NEW 23-minute appreciation of Bebe & Louis Barron’s pioneering electronic score by historian and composer Neil Brand. He discusses the analogue techniques used by the Barrons—from electronic wave generation to recording and then cutting up actual tape to create loops that could be played back and treated with reverb or used to create further feedback. They were true pioneers of electronic music who had to scratch-build most of the equipment in their workshop. Brand goes on to discuss the application of these techniques with direct reference to the Forbidden Planet score. He points out that the soundscapes they made were expressive and play a big part in evoking the vastness of the Krell machines while also subtly underscoring internal emotions during conversations—the music doesn’t simply create atmosphere; it becomes integral to the storytelling and to the film’s overall identity.
• Watch the Skies!: Science Fiction, The 1950s and Us (2005) an archival 55-minute documentary narrated by Mark Hamill. A genre love-in featuring contributions from such high-calibre luminaries as Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, Ridley Scott, and James Cameron. They reminisce about first encountering the movie in their formative years against a backdrop of genuine nuclear dread in the era of fallout shelters and “Duck and Cover” drills at school. Forbidden Planet is compared with other sci-fi films that had gone before, with The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) and Them! (1954) featuring prominently. There is an interesting discussion about the fashion for creature features where small things—ants, spiders, mantises, lizards—get huge and deadly, positing that they were a clear metaphor for the anxieties of an age when the immense destructive power of the tiny atom was revealed. However, an invisible monster was something different that not only evoked the dangers of unseen radiation, but also made manifest those fears that lurk hidden within.
• Amazing!: Exploring the Far Reaches of Forbidden Planet (2006) an archival 27-minutes documentary. Another impressive line-up of contributors discusses the movie magic of Forbidden Planet, including John Carpenter and Joe Dante alongside VFX legends John Dykstra and Phil Tippett. There are also comments from those who were there, including Leslie Nielsen, Warren Stevens, and Bebe Barron. The main focus of discussion is the production design and effects—all agreeing that they were stunning in their day and still look good, but are never distracting. The audio-visual design always serves the narrative and builds the world, giving a distinctive, otherworldly sense of time and place.
• Robby the Robot: Engineering a Sci-Fi Icon (2006) an archival 14-minute featurette. For me, it was a thrill to hear Robert Kinoshita talk about consolidating the design of Robby the Robot with his sculpted model that appears in the film during a miniature and matte sequence. There’s also a talk-through featuring the original full-size prop, which was skinned using Royalite thermoplastic (normally used for making suitcases) and fitted with neon tubes and moving parts that required thousands of volts to ensure rapid responsiveness—making too much noise for any live dialogue in scenes involving Robby.
• Deleted Scenes. 13-minutes of snippets that were trimmed to tighten dialogue and reduce techno-jargon. Some VFX that were deemed substandard and were enhanced in the final print.
• Lost Footage. 9-minutes of clips consisting mainly of lighting tests and matte shots that weren’t used, including some lovely planet models and starfield backdrops.
• The Invisible Boy (1956) a movie featuring Robby the Robot in his second feature film. See mini-review above.
• Robot Client (1958) 30-minute episode of The Thin Man TV series featuring Robby the Robot. We join detective couple Nick and Nora Charles (Peter Lawford and Phyllis Kirk) and their famous dog, Asta, responding to a rather cryptic ‘Scooby-Doo’ style invitation to a research institute run by Dr Nyles (Barry Atwater) based at his country estate. There, a secret research project is developing a remotely controlled robot for handling radioactive materials in experimental nuclear power stations. The robot is, of course, Robby, but this time it’s supposed to be an industrial tool with no onboard computing power. However, it appears to be developing a dangerous will of its own, and soon Nick and Nora are trying to work out whodunit in a murder case. It’s an entertaining episode, and the dynamic between the two leads could be an Americanised forerunner of The Avengers (1961–69). Of course, the main attraction is Robby, and although Merril Pye, art director on The Invisible Boy, was involved with four other episodes, he isn’t credited for this one—though he may well have helped source the prop.
• Two short excerpts from MGM Parade with Walter Pidgeon introducing Robby.
• Original Shooting Script.
• Theatrical trailer.
• Image galleries.

Cast & Crew

director: Fred M. Wilcox
writer: Cyril Hume (based on a story by Irving Block & Allen Adler).
starring: Walter Pidgeon, Anne Francis, Leslie Nielsen & Warren Stevens.