Horror Film Review: Forbidden Planet (dir by Fred M. Wilcox)

Posted on October 30, 2026 by Lisa Marie Bowman

In general, I’m not really a huge fan of science fiction. A lot of that is because I tend to get bored with the huge mythologies that come along with most science fiction franchises. I don’t care who the best Star Trek captain is. Some of the Star Wars films were enjoyable, but I roll my eyes whenever I meet people who are pedantic about referring to the first movie as A New Hope. My dislike of Avatar is well-known, though it’s actually softened a bit now that everyone else seems to dislike it as well. (I find much of the current dislike to be performative, whereas mine was sincere. I disliked Avatar before it became cool to do so.) Most of the science fiction films that I have enjoyed have either poked fun at the genre (like the Guardians of the Galaxy films), were directed by Ridley Scott (Alien, Blade Runner), have featured giant monsters that were created by radiation, or are Italian (like Starcrash).

That said, I absolutely love Forbidden Planet.

First released in 1956, Forbidden Planet stars a young, handsome, and stalwart Leslie Nielsen as John J. Adams, the commander of the starship C-57D. Adams and his crew are on a mission to investigate what happened to an expedition to the planet Altair IV. As C-57D approaches the planet, they get a message warning them not to land on the planet for safety reasons. Adams ignores the message. When the ship—which rather charmingly is made up to look like a classic flying saucer—lands, Adams and his crew are met by a robot named Robby who takes them to meet his creator, Dr. Edward Morbius (Walter Pidgeon). Morbius explains that he and his daughter Altaira (Anne Francis) are the only survivors of the expedition and that there is an unseen force on the planet that attacks anyone who lands on the surface… anyone other than Morbius and his daughter. Morbius politely suggests that Adams should go back to Earth. Adams says that he can’t do anything until he gets orders…

Despite all of the grim talk about an unseen presence, Forbidden Planet actually starts off as being almost a comedy. With the exception of Commander Adams, Doc (Warren Stevens), and Lt. Jerry Farman (Jack Kelly), the C-57D seems to be exclusively manned by goofy guys who can’t get over the fact that there’s a woman on the planet. (Adams mentions that the crew has been in space for nearly two years.) The Cook (Earl Holliman) wants some alcohol and Robby the Robot knows just how to make it. Fortunately, Leslie Nielsen didn’t have his trademark white hair when he appeared in this film. Otherwise, I don’t know if I’d be able to handle his deadpan, dramatic delivery.

Things change when the unseen attack turns out to be real and starts attacking the ship. A lot of those likably goofy characters end up dying. And when Adams discovers what is truly the source of the monster… well, let’s just say that I imagine the subtext was missed by a lot of the kids who probably made up the film’s initial audience. There’s no silliness to be found in the film’s final moments, with the monster burning away a door that was supposed to be impenetrable and Morbius finally confronting the truth of what really happened to the expedition.

I can’t really remember how old I was when I first saw Forbidden Planet. It came on television one October night and I watched it with my Dad. I thought Robby the Robot was adorable, but what truly stuck with me was the scene where the monster walks into an electrified force field and is suddenly visible.

The way the monster roars and swats at the crew of the ship has always stuck with me. And once we discover the true origins of the monster, the scenes take on an entirely new meaning.

(The monster is so terrifying that even Robby the Robot shuts down rather than face it. It’s an underrated moment of fright. If even Robby can’t battle the monster, what hope is there for anyone else on the planet?)

Leslie Nielsen is likable but a little boring as the male lead. Anne Francis overacts a bit as Altaira. It doesn’t matter. Walter Pidgeon’s intense performance is the one that you remember. Forbidden Planet is an intelligent and thought-provoking film, one that holds up even today. I may not like science fiction, but I will watch it every October.

Cleaning Out The DVR: An American Dream (dir by Robert Gist)

Posted on January 7, 2022 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Loosely based on a novel by Norman Mailer, the 1966 film, An American Dream, tells the story of Stephen Rojack (Stuart Whitman). Rojack’s a war hero, a man who has several medals of valor to his credit. He’s married to Deborah (Eleanor Parker), the daughter of one of the richest men in the country. He’s an acclaimed writer. He’s got his own television talk show in New York. He’s been crusading against not only the Mafia but also against corruption in the police department. He has powerful friends and powerful enemies. You get the idea.

He’s also got a marriage that’s on the verge of collapse. Deborah calls Rojack’s show and taunts him while he’s on the air. When Rojack goes to her apartment to demand a divorce, the two of them get into an argument. Deborah tells him that he’s not a hero. She says he only married her for the money and that she only married him for the prestige. She tells him that he’s a lousy lover. Being a character in an adaptation of a Norman Mailer novel, the “lousy lay” crack causes Rojack to snap. He attacks Deborah. The two of them fight. Deborah stumbles out to the balcony of her apartment and it appears that she’s on the verge of jumping. Rojack follows her. At first, he tries to save her but then he lets her fall. She crashes down to the street, where she’s promptly run over by several cars. The cars then all run into each other while Rojack stands on the balcony and wails. There’s nothing subtle about the first 15 minutes of An American Dream.

Actually, there’s nothing subtle about any minute of An American Dream. It’s a film where everything, from the acting to the melodrama, is so over-the-top and portentous that it actually gets a bit boring. There’s no relief from the screeching and the inauthentic hard-boiled dialogue. When a crazed Rojack starts to laugh uncontrollably, he doesn’t just laugh. Instead, he laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and …. well, let’s just say it goes on for a bit. It’s like a 60s version of one of those terrible Family Guy jokes.

Anyway, the police don’t believe that Deborah committed suicide but they also can’t prove that Rojack killed her. Meanwhile, within hours of his wife’s death, Rojack meets his ex-girlfriend, a singer named Cherry (Janet Leigh). Rojack is still in love with Cherry but Cherry is also connected to the same mobsters who want to kill Rojack. Meanwhile, Deborah’s superrich father (Lloyd Nolan) is also on his way to New York City, looking for answer of his own.

An American Dream is a very familiar type of mid-60s film. It’s a trashy story and it’s obvious that the director was trying to be as risqué as the competition in Europe while also trying to not offend mainstream American audiences. As such, the film has hints of nudity but not too much nudity. There’s some profanity but not too much profanity. Rojack, Deborah, and Cherry may curse more than Mary Poppins but they’re rank amateurs compared to the cast of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? It’s an unabashedly melodramatic film but it doesn’t seem to be sure just how far it can go in embracing the melodrama with alienating its target audience so, as a result, the entire film feels somewhat off. Some scenes go on forever. Some scenes feel too short. The whole thing has the washed-out look of an old cop show.

All of that perhaps wouldn’t matter if Stephen Rojack was a compelling character. In theory, Rojack should have been compelling but, because he’s played by the reliably boring Stuart Whitman, Rojack instead just comes across as being a bit of a dullard. He’s supposed to be a charismatic, two-fisted Norman Mailer-type but instead, as played by Whitman, Rojack comes across like an accountant who is looking forward to retirement but only if he can balance the books one last time. There’s no spark of madness or imagination to be found in Whitman’s performance and, as a result, the viewer never really cares about Rojack or his problems.

Noman Mailer reportedly never saw An American Dream, saying that it would be too painful to a bad version of his favorite novel. In this case, Mailer made the right decision.

Embracing the Melodrama Part II #30: The Sweet Ride (dir by Harvey Hart)

Posted on April 20, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

The 1968 film The Sweet Ride takes the audience on a ride through Malibu and reminds us all that, in many ways, the 1960s sucked.

The Sweet Ride opens with actress Vicki Cartwright (Jacqueline Bisset) losing her top while swimming in the ocean. While Vicki panics and tries to figure out how to get back to the beach without anyone seeing her breasts, she’s spotted by a surfer named Denny McGuire (Michael Sarrazin). Denny hands her a towel and then leads her back to the beach house that he shares with aging tennis player Collie (Anthony Franciosa) and stoned musician Choo-Choo (Bob Denver).

The rest of the film is a 90 minute tour of California beach life in the late 60s. Despite Collie’s cynical warning against falling in love, Denny does just that, despite the fact that Vicki refuses to tell him anything about her past or even where she lives. Meanwhile, Collie spends his time hustling on the tennis court and the married Choo-Choo pretends to be gay in an attempt to get out of being drafted. (Choo-Choo probably could have gotten out of the draft by pointing out that he appears to be 40 years old but the filmmakers decided to have him walk around with a poodle and speak in falsetto. Just in case you had any doubt that this film was made in 1968…) It’s a mix of comedy, romance, and drama and it’s features footage of some real bands performing in actual Malibu nightclubs and that’s a good thing for all of us history nerds.

And, since The Sweet Ride was made in 1968, the whole film gets progressively darker as it reaches its conclusion. Choo-Choo does get drafted and it’s hard to believe he’ll survive a day in Viet Nam. Collie’s perfect life is revealed to be an empty facade. Denny realizes that his friends are all immature losers. And Vicki ends up getting assaulted by a high-power studio executive (Warren Stevens). It all leads to more violence, disillusionment, and general ennui.

For some reason, The Sweet Ride shows up on FXM fairly regularly. It’s a strange film because it doesn’t really work and yet it’s also compulsively watchable. It tries to be about everything and, as a result, it often feels like it’s about absolutely nothing. And yet, somehow, it remains compelling…

Why is the film compelling despite itself? It’s not because of the main characters, that’s for sure. The boys in the beach house are probably some of the least likable film protagonists in cinematic history. Anthony Franciosa gave some great performances in his career (check him out in A Face in the Crowd and Tenebrae) but Collie is such a smug jerk that you find yourself hoping that someone will just punch him in the face. Meanwhile, Denny tends to come across like a weak-willed and obsessive stalker and Choo-Choo — well, Choo-Choo often seems to be a character in a totally different movie. As for Vicki, her character pretty much exclusively exists to be victimized.

Ultimately, I think The Sweet Ride is watchable because it is such an imperfect time capsule. If I wanted to know what it was like to be alive in the 60s, The Sweet Ride is one of the films that I would watch. It’s not the best film ever made but it is a chance to look into the past.