by Gideon Marcus
High Hopes
In preparation for the last episode of The Journey Show, in which we discussed the movies of the last fifteen years, the Young Traveler and I cast about for every SF movie we could find that we'd missed the first time through. That's how we came across the "They came from 1951" double feature that Lorelei wrote so engagingly about.
And it's how we ended up in a dingy second-run theater at the edge of town for a viewing of the 1956 hit, Forbidden Planet. I'd heard a lot about the film, that it was the first big budget rendition of classic space opera, that it was absolutely gorgeous, and that I was somehow remiss as a reviewer of science fiction for not having seen it.
So don't let it be said that my upcoming savaging of the film is the result of any predisposition to be negative. Indeed, I had every expectation that Forbidden Planet was going to be something special.
And, in some very negative ways, it is…
The Reality
Things start encouragingly enough, opening on a shot of the United Planets cruiser "C-57D" zooming through space. All of the space ships of the 1950s (with the exception of the novel manta-ray looking ships from War of the Worlds) fall into two categories: V-2 rocketships and flying saucers, and the C-57D is a classic example of the second type.
The vessel, skippered by Commander John J. Adams (Leslie Nielsen), has traveled more than a year to the real-life white star, Altair, to check up on the Bellerophon, a ship last heard from two decades before. C-57D is apparently traveling at superluminal speeds, and in a nice bit, all of the crew head into cylindrical stasis chambers for the transition to normal space.
Eight minutes into the movie, Lorelei and I were hooked. This picture was absolutely beautiful and unlike anything we'd seen before. We licked our lips in anticipation.
And then the disappointments began.
After making orbit around the green-tinged Altair IV (orbiting a strangely orange Altair) the C-57D gets a call from the surface. Dr. Morbius (Walter Pidgeon) of the Bellerophon is the sole survivor of the prior expedition, and he tells Commander Adams in no uncertain terms that he needs no assistance and, in fact, the relief ship will be in danger if it lands. Rather than asking why he shouldn't proceed, Commander Adams instead cuts off Dr. Morbius in mid-admonition!
"This program is boring – let's tune to Jack Benny!"
Nevertheless, the movie soon seduces us again with the following amazing shot and a vibrant set of electronic sound effects.
Upon landing, they are met by "Robby the Robot," a character the filmmakers were so proud of that they gave him his own title card. It's true that he moves with all the grace of a man in a lumpy suit, and I have the disadvantage of having seen him reused in at least one episode of The Twilight Zone, but a robot that doesn't look like a person is a pleasant surprise.
Despite Dr. Morbius' earlier protestations, Robby has been sent to invite the Commander over for tea. Adams and two of his men (the crew of the C-57D is entirely male, natch), Lieutenant Jerry Farman (Jack Kelly) and "Doc" Ostrow (the TV ubiquitous Warren Stevens) head over. It turns out that Dr. Morbius has made quite a nest for himself.
Dr. Morbius in a typically declamatory pose
Dr. Morbius is affable enough, but he has a somber tale, which he delivers in a rather toneless monologue, as if telling a bedtime story. Shortly after landing, the crew of the Bellerophon suffered gruesome death after death at the hands of some unseen beast. Only the doctor and his wife were spared, because they loved the planet rather than fearing it, the doctor believes.
Sadly, his wife died soon after the incident due to natural causes. Nevertheless, Dr. Morbius has not been alone the whole time. For one, there's Robby: his home-built robot is the ultimate servant, able to produce any item from its belly…and it also does dishes!
And then, there is Altaira.
This fetching thing (Anne Francis, currently Honey West) is, of course, the daughter of Dr. Morbius and his wife, the latter having died in childbirth. She is excited at meeting men, particularly the Lieutenant and the Commander (no accounting for taste – Doc Ostrow is the most likeable of the characters even if he's the first one to throw out a sexist comment, that Robby will be the bane of housewives everywhere).
Lieutenant Freeman wastes no time with the coquettish Altaira, first denigrating his Commander in a way that would be mutinous if Adams knew, and then explaining that kissing is beneficial to Altaira's health and they should indulge in it right quick. It's a scene with all the charm of Walter Breen describing his virtues to your son.
Altaira does not derive any pleasure from the event, and thankfully, Commander Adams shows up then to break things up. But don't breathe a sigh of relief too quickly. He's just there to tell Altaira that it's all her fault he assaulted her, and that she needs to put some damned clothes on, for goodness' sake. After all, who is he to impose a modicum of discipline and respectfulness over his crew? The skipper?
It gets worse, as he browbeats her for being flirtatious, clearly resentful that he wasn't the first target of her attentions. Finally, he sends her off, all but threatening to spank her.
(It's in this scene, by the way, that we learn that the ship's complement of the C-57D is 18. There is absolutely no way that 18 men were on this tiny saucer for more than a year.)
That night, something invisible sneaks past the sentries and destroys vital components of the spaceship. The vessel is marooned unless repairs can be made. Despite knowing that there is an invisible terror on the planet, Commander Adams is furious with his guards, roaring at them and meting out severe punishment. At this point, we were wondering if the movie was deliberately showing that Commander Adams was both incompetent and a jerk in a subversion of the hero type. Of course, we were giving the film too much credit.
This painful vignette is followed by a truly groanworthy stretch of dialogue between Adams and Chief Engineer Quinn:
Quinn: Half of this gear we can replace and the rest we can patch up somehow…except this special Klystron frequency modulator. With every facility of the ship, I think I might be able to rebuild it…but frankly, the book says no. It came packed in liquid boron in a suspended grav…
Adams: All right, so it's impossible. How long will it take?
Quinn: Well, if I don't stop for breakfast…
Adams: Get on it, Quinn.
Quinn: Thank you, sir.
This bothered me. If the thing is fixable, give an accurate estimate, don't be coy to burnish your credentials as a miracle worker. Frankly, this also made me think less of the Commander, who let him go without a actual timetable.
Note: I tend to be particularly sensitive to problematic portrayals of people in charge. As a person who has run companies and other entities for years, the leader types are the ones I most identify with, and they have the job I have most familiarity with doing. When I see it done wrong, especially when we're supposed to admire the leader character, it drives me nuts.
On with the show.
Commander Adams, having sated his sadism quota for the day, heads out with Ostrow back to Dr. Morbius' pad to get more information about the phantom beasts of Altair IV. There, they espy Altaira bathing in the nude, after which she comes out of the water and puts on a new dress that covers everything, per Adams' prior orders. You see, when Adams chastised her for being a floozy, she really liked it. And in short order, this is happening:
At this point, Lorelei asked me why I was such a horrible father subjecting her to this dreck. She clearly has a poor memory – subjecting her to dreck is a tradition that goes back almost seven years now. In this case, though, my pain was easily as acute as hers. And before you rejoinder my objection with, "Well, she's clearly enjoying herself, so what's the problem?" I'll point out that Altaira isn't a person. She's a fictional character with no agency of her own portraying what is obviously wish fulfillment on the part of the writer; she bears no resemblance to an actual human being in this situation. That's why it's so painful to watch – she's treated horribly and then reacts unnaturally.
The smooching between Altaira and Adams enrages the girl's pet tiger, and Adams zaps the kitty into nonexistence. Which just underlines another ridiculous part of this movie. At every possible juncture, Adams whips out his gun. He's already done it (I think) three times before this point in the movie. It's a miracle the tiger is the first casualty of his itchy trigger finger.
When Dr. Morbius is not immediately forthcoming, Adams and Ostrow break into his private office and start reviewing the doctor's papers. Morbius catches them in the act and is rightfully upset.
However, he calms down quickly enough and embarks on another monologue about how Altair IV used to be inhabited by a poweful species called the Krell, how the race had built these giant machines powered by the heat of the planet itself, and how, one day, they all murdered each other.
While the delivery is again unremarkable, the subject matter is interesting, and the scenes from the guided tour of the alien equipment is breathtaking, visually and aurally.
It turns out that the doctor is something special, too. Upon finding the alien ruins, he had hooked himself up to an alien machine, a sort of mental waldo. The same device had killed the Bellerophon's captain when he tried it out, but Morbius survived (barely). Per his report (in yet another stultifying monologue), it doubled his intelligence, allowing him to create Robby and the other marvels of his Altairan residence.
While this tour is going on, the invisible monster slips aboard the C-57D again past increased defenses, for what sinister purpose, we don't yet know. Back at the doctor's ranch, Adams is trying to get Morbius to give up the secrets of the Krell to humanity, but Morbius doesn't feel the human race is ready. The conversation gets heated. Adams and Ostrow return empty handed only to find that the unseen Altairan has killed a member of the cruiser's crew. It left behind this remarkable footprint, which Ostrow recreated in plaster.
Amazingly, Adams does not throw anyone in the brig for dereliction of duty this time. Instead, he holds a funeral for the lost crewman.
Again, there's no way 18 men were cooped up in that thing for a year.
That night, the beast comes back with a vengeance. The ship's energy barriers and combined weaponry are almost useless against it and more crew die.
Right after the attack, we are shown this scene. If you haven't figured out what's causing the attacks by this point, you may need to stay after class for extra assignments.
Adams and Ostrow rush back to the Morbius estate, where their passage is blocked by Robby. They whip out their guns (of course) but those are quickly neutralized. Altaira intercedes to let them in. Shortly thereafter, Ostrow shows up with three burns on his forehead – he has used the mind waldo, which has given him tremendous mental powers. They are too much for him, however, and he soon succumbs, but not before revealing that the monster is indeed a manifestation of Dr. Morbius' subconscious mind created by his link with the Krell's machines!
The tenderest scene in the movie
Adams confronts Morbius with the knowledge, explaining that Morbius unconsciously killed the crew of the Bellerophon when they wanted to leave the planet. He started killing the crew of the U-57D when they threatened to take Altaira away from him.
The beast of Morbius' id now manifests even when the doctor is awake, coming after Adams even in the strongest of Krell sanctums. Adams, of course, whips out his gun, threatening to kill Dr. Morbius to stop the monster (even though we saw Robbie deactivate the blaster just minutes before).
Dr. Morbius throws himself in front of the door, castigating and disowning the id monster's existence. The beast subsides, but Morbius is now dying (for some unknown reason). With his last wish, he commands Adams to activate the Krell city's self-destruct mechanism.
This gives Adams enough time to take Altaira and Robby onto the U-57D, which is all fixed now despite "the book" saying a repair couldn't be done. Hugging on the bridge in front of the 14 of his remaining sex-starved, uncontrollable crew, they watch as Altair IV explodes.
The secrets of the ages? Ah, who needs 'em.
Roll credits.
After Action Report
I didn't like this move. We didn't like this movie. The characters are all wretched (including the drunken cook whose subplot involving the plying of Robbie for manufactured booze wasn't worth discussing). Commander Adams, if he turns in an unvarnished report, should be up for court martial several times over. Walter Pidgeon has one setting, and he's left on it for too much of the movie. Despite the film's not overlong running time, it often dragged.
Most disturbing is the anti-feminism, egregious even for these less-than-enlightened times. As fellow traveler Erica Frank notes, "It's especially worth a sharp look when the story is science fiction, where the underlying message includes "so much of society has changed — these are the parts that were worth keeping."
So is there anything to like about this movie? Well…
The touters are correct. It is beautiful, from its set design to its special effects to its wide wide Cinemascope aspect ratio. Cinematorapher George J. Folsey, whose credits go back to 1920 did a fine job.
The soundtrack, in particular, by avante garde electronic musicians Bebe and Louis Barron is just incredible. I've only heard its like in the theme of Dr. Who and the music and effects of the British marionette show, Space Patrol. It makes me want to break out some transformers and build some modulating circuits for my own experimental purposes.
The background of the Krell and the Freudian id monster weren't bad as far as science fiction goes. One could easily find such devices in a story from any of the SF mags of the era or before.
In short, we liked everything about the movie but the movie. I'm almost tempted to re-record the dialogue with an entirely new script, preserving the spectacular visuals and sound.
Perhaps I don't have to. I understand that the new SF anthology show, Star Trek, has such lush production values that it will essentially look like Forbidden Planet on television. As long as it doesn't hew too close to its predecessor.
As for rating Forbidden Planet. call it five stars for production values, three for the setup, and one for the execution…
Don't miss this weekend's episode of The Journey Show, taking you on a whirlwind tour of the exciting new field of Japanese animation!
To these SF fanish eyes in 1956 Forbidden Planet was like noting I had ever seen on film before. The only space opera I knew at the time was Tom Corbett Space Cadet, Space Patrol ( chauvinism? what did you think of Space Patrol?), Captain Video, Rod Brown Rocket Ranger, Rocky Jones and the strange West German Flash Gordon. All doggedly adolescent , tho that was the audience. Space Opera? there was hardly any movie Space Opera, how about comparing Forbidden Planet to Fire Maidens from Outer Space, Radar Men from the Moon, Zombies of the Stratosphere, Flight to Mars , Cat-Women of the Moon, Queen of Outer Space ? I am just listing ones that kinda-sorta took a swipe space opera. Compared to those Forbidden Planet seemed like Art-House cinema!
To seasoned SF prose readers Forbidden Planet felt old fashioned. Writers Cyril Hume , Irving Block and Allen Adler culled SF concepts and nomenclature from the pages of magazines 1935-1955. (Something the Z movies did not do.) Old fashioned with a coloring of adolescent pulp. As stupid as the cook comedy relief was (seems like studio interference there) the Krell mystery was good Big Thinks SF , sure did not occur again in SF film to this date.
The SF boxes checked off by Forbidden Planet were totally unique for a SF film , at lest in 1956, fans would like to see better but that has not happened in the last nearly 10 years.
What a mess. Talk about a review without context, failing to address the elephant in the room.
Neither you or your daughter are old enough to have a sense of perspective over the changes that have occurred since this film was released.
At best this is just your opinion, at the worst, it's an egregious case of presentism – an anachronistic introduction of present-day ideas and perspectives into depictions or interpretations of the past – for having brought a 21st Century condemnation of a film that for its time was so far ahead of everything is quite frankly disappointing.
Look, I get it.
Things were pretty bad back then, and I certainly don't have any fondness for the small minded bigotry I saw growing up. But, is this a site for celebrating the past or for beating down on works that give offence?
It seems it has gone from one to the other to the detriment of the commentary on the historical record of science fiction.
"is this a site for celebrating the past or for beating down on works that give offence?"
Yes.
I worked very hard on this article to be objective, to explain my points thoroughly. If you want to rebut them with your own views, that's fine and encouraged.
You apparently missed the parts where I lauded the laudatory portions of the movie? Where I gushed over the gorgeousness of the film, the stupendous innovation of the soundtrack, where I expressed my appreciation for the "real" SF in a film?
Egregious chauvinism is egregious chauvinism. Gross incompetence on the part of a commander is gross incompetence.
Given that so many contemporary movies somehow managed to avoid being egregiously chauvinist (4D Man, The Day the Earth Stood Still, Wasp Woman, I married an alien from outer space, The World, the Flesh, and the Devil) suggests that the makers of Forbidden Planet made deliberate choices, ones that shouldn't be excused or ignored.
As for Adams being a complete moron, that certainly can't be blamed on the times.
In short., we celebrate what's celebratory, condemn what should be condemned. That some hateful things are acceptable to more people in 1965 (or 1956) than in the future makes them no less hateful.
You are correct, though, that I have the luxury (misfortune) of having watched the movie in a more enlightened time (1965). I've seen and read too much good SF made in the nine years since to enjoy Forbidden Planet completely without bias.
My complaint is more that I've seen you do this better, with more nuance and subtlety. IIRC forex, 'I imagine that in the future of FP that human relationships will show respect.' (or words to that effect).
If you want to rant about the big misstep of FP, Robby the Robot – iconic though the design is – fails to extrapolate on mankind's advancing technology (but in 1956 this wasn't so obvious to Hollywood, which was still looking through the lens of an older generation).
As for 1965 being more enlightened, I thinks that's wishful thinking, but YMMV.
1965 is clearly more enlightened than 1956. The Great Society proves that (though in many ways, the Great Society is still theoretical — Black children still can't get on the buses to schools in many parts of the South).
Subtlety implemented where subtlety is warranted. Lorelei and I were gagging through much of the film. If the sexism had been more casual, less offensive, I'd have devoted fewer inches to it.
As for poor extrapolation, again, I was more offended by the failure to extrapolate a universe with equality of the sexes than Robby's clunky design (which I did poke fun at). In 1965, we know what a robot looks like — it's a purpose-built machine that automates manufacturing. Androids, whether in the mold of Twilight Zone humanoids or Robby-style bulky suits, probably will never take off.
I'll note that no one, in any conversation, has disagreed on the utterly boobish behavior of Commander Adams.
Anyway, I do appreciate your comments, and I'm glad you're sticking around to chat. I know this is a favorite film of yours and of many others.
It seems to me that we are talking across each other, which doesn't come as a surprise, because that's the human condition and all.
When FP was made in 1956 the Korean war had only just been resolved. TV shows, like Sergeant Bilko mocked the US Army, and most likely a man of the era would have recognized Hollywood portrayal of the military as what it was.
The reaction to said portrayal would likely depend on where he stood with regards to progressive attitudes of the day.
If Republican then he might have mocked the portrayal as you did. If Democrat, he might have delighted in the portrayal.
Who knows?
All I know is that the overlay of 21st Century sensibilities by someone selling the site as the 1960s happening in real time pushes me out of the narrative; a bit like historical fiction where the characters say and do things that break the suspension of disbelief.
Again, YMMV and clearly does.
"All I know is that the overlay of 21st Century sensibilities by someone selling the site as the 1960s happening in real time pushes me out of the narrative"
I've gotten this objection before — that I can't possibly be from the 1960s. Why…I care about Civil Rights and feminism!
That's just ludicrous. The fact is, there's no opinion I hold that isn't held by at least some of my contemporaries. I may be at one end of the bell curve, but I am not an anomaly.
I have to laugh, in particular, when folks object to Lorelei's viewpoints. She's been raised in our little bubble. She has an unique perspective that no future-dweller has.
Lorelei loves a lot of things from our era that young folks from the future would disdain. She kvells over Harryhausen, swoons over Tony Randall. Yet the moment she disagrees with someone's long-cherished opinion, suddenly she's anachronistic and spoiled by future modernity.
"most likely a man of the era would have recognized Hollywood portrayal of the military as what it was."
FP came out two years after The Caine Mutiny (movie). People in the mid-50s knew what bad military leadership looked like. There's no indication that the makers of FP were going for farce. Unlike The Day the Earth stood Still (which was heavyhanded but knew what it was doing).
And again, we appear to be talking at cross purposes.
I have no criticism of your review of FP as a 2020 perspective on the film. It is what it is. However, I would like you to consider who your contemporaries were circa 1965.
For example, you’re approximately the same age as Isaac Asimov, born 1920, who would’ve been considered an open minded liberal in 1965. Or, how about someone who is still alive today, Robert Silverberg, born 1935, making a young Turk aged 30 in 1965? Another author still around, Ben Bova, born 1932, which would make him 33, and another young Turk in 1965.
Except that today they’re all considered a bit retro. Perhaps therefore, not a fair comparison.
So, how about John Clute, born 1940, who was age 25 in 1965, who wrote/edited ‘The Science Fiction Encyclopedia’ entry on Forbidden Planet (http://sf-encyclopedia.com/entry/forbidden_planet)? Or Roger Ebert’s tangental comment on Forbidden Planet written in 1982:
"The Tempest" in his "Tempest"; he has simply staged it. Contrast this film with "Forbidden Planet," a science fiction film that also begins with the underlying materials of "The Tempest," but transforms them into its own terms so cleverly that most viewers remained unaware of its inspiration (https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/tempest-1982).
Your stance could’ve have unpacked the discussion between the merits of literary versus media SF. So what I’m criticizing here is the transposition of a 2020 perspective of a review written from the perspective of someone from 1965 to filter your current beliefs about the mores of American culture then.
My criticism is that you’ve singularly failed to write it as a person from 1965 might well have done. I know, I know, how do I know how a liberal person from 1965 would’ve have written a critical review of FP in 1965.
Why no mention of "THE TEMPEST"?
I love FP despite its many flaws and know that in 1956 it was modeled on Shakespeare's play.
I could not stand the cook either. What interstellar limited space crew would tolerate a fool? (answer: Hollywood crew)
Cheers! Looking forward to this Star Trek show.
Thank you, Ken!
Why no mention of The Tempest? Quite simple — I've never seen (or read) it! Just MacBeth, Romeo and Juliet, Henry V, and Taming of the Shrew.
And there is much to love about the film. Also much that disappoints. I think no less of you for being able to separate the two!
Too much is made of The Tempest in connection with Forbidden Planet. Sure there is some framing by Cyril Hume , Irving Block and Allen Adler but that's about all.
The FTL , United Planets, blasters, inscrutable Krell Instrumentality , other SF paraphernalia all come from the pages of prose SF. One could even say the pages of Astounding Science Fiction.
This borrowing from John W Campbell (so to speak) was 100 times more evident to old time readers (well 20 years of SF prose before FP) than the small nod towards Shakespeare.
(Yes I have read The Tempest.)
To Ashley (writing here since the paper was becoming very thin!)
I don't think we're talking at cross purposes. If I'm understanding correctly, you are making the assertion that no one in 1965 could hold the views that I do.
Please consider this:
Robert Silverberg is no Young Turk. A fine writer? Sure, but he's actually quite retrogressive in his attitudes, in lock step with Randy Garrett (literally; the two of them write together under the byline of Robert Randall).
Isaac Asimov is in some ways very like me: We have a similar style of (non-fiction) writing, we are both Atheist Jews, we are the same age, we dig science fiction, we wear horn-rimmed glasses, we are both incredibly handsome.
Asimov is even somewhat liberal, politically, though his attitudes toward women are backward, and his attitudes toward homosexuality are positively naive when they aren't Neanderthal.
A better match for me perhaps is Pete Seeger, also born in 1919. This is a fellow who has been a radical leftist since the Spanish Civil War. As for being in touch with modern culture and progressive movements, the man practically defines them. He wrote half the popular folk/rock songs on the air right now, and he's pretty much responsible for Bob Dylan.
Now I don't pretend to a quarter of the talent or influence of Seeger or Asimov, but they are evidence that folks with my views can exist in 1965.
Ah, Peter Seeger, okay. Did he like SF?
I only ask because my experience of card carrying communists of past eras would've thought it all at best fluff and nonsense, or deeply regressive capitalist fiction for the masses pandering to the fantasies of the power elite.
So as I said, if you're going to write from a progressive from a 1965 perspective, perhaps consider framing the critique within the narrative of the time, rather than the narrative of 2020.
Anyway, I have no problem with your opinions on these matters, and it's your blog with your agenda .
Thank you for your patience in setting out your agenda clearly for me. So, sorry to have bothered you.
It's okay. I'm just trying to appreciate your viewpoint so that I can write the very best articles. Thank you for your input!
Criticisms of character development may be cold water poured unnecessarily in order to follow politically correctness but Your Doggedly blasting Mundane views of the crew of U 57D distracts .
The ship suffered a problem of interior vs exterior scale change as the set piece would have to been too large for the sound stage which explains your comments on the saucer being too small. Having built a detailed model of the ship this problem becomes obvious. Storytelling on this scale requires some sacrifices.
You did not mention some basic plot lines namely the relationship to The Tempest and some important lessons still valid today. In visualization advanced technology we see raw power that can be, and probably will be turned against us such as the internet that is Portrayed as “the summation of All of the Krell knowledge” or manifestation by thought alone where we now face hypersonic nuclear missiles
Perhaps the dialogue could have been better written but the larger message has never been equaled.
Welcome, Craig, and thank you for your letter!
I don't know what "political correctness" means, but it sounds very Orwellian.
And, as I explained to an earlier writer, I didn't compare the movie to the play, The Tempest, because I've never read or seen it.
I have read (and seen) a tremendous amount of science fiction. I found the basic setup of the movie to be sound and interesting and said as much in the review.
As for the scale of the ship, I suspected as much — it was just such an obvious discrepancy that it was fun to point out. Of all the issues in the movie, this one was raised more for the humor of it than actual offense.
I'm glad you liked the movie. It's certainly very pretty.
Lots of interesting discussion here, so not much to add except that I liked this movie quite a bit. To each her own.
My views diverge from yours on several points. I will stick with one issue for the moment, since I am busy with household maintenance and preparation for my music class. You wrote:
"In 1965, we know what a robot looks like — it’s a purpose-built machine that automates manufacturing. Androids, whether in the mold of Twilight Zone humanoids or Robby-style bulky suits, probably will never take off. " In our real world of 2020 this mostly what a robot looks like . Will the future be like 2020?
Futures imagined by several major SF authors in their works, disagree with this idea, well after the proffered date of 1965.
–Philip K. Dick's 1968 "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep" has humaniform androids as an essential plot element. This was retained in the well known 1982 cinema version, Bladerunner, and presumably its 2017 sequel (not viewed).
–The underworld city in Harlan Ellsion's 1969 "A Boy and His Dog" has a mobile, sentry robot, admittedly not humaniform but multi-armed and tracked . Certainly not a "purpose-built machine that automates manufacturing. "
–Silverberg 1971 Nebula award winner "Good News From the Vatican" says this about a robot Pope "… his Eminency is tall and distinguished … On treads,"
–"The Bicentennial Man" 1976 winner of a Hugo and Nebula award.
–Harlan Ellison's 1977 screenplay based on the 1950s book I, Robot. Also, the much later movie version
–Clifford Simak's 1981 The novel "Project Pope" — a group of robots and humans … search the universe and other dimensions to seek out true religion and knowledge.
–I admit to not following new SF much after the mid 1970s, but note these: Robots of Dawn, 1983 (which I read), Robots and Empire (1985), Foundation and Earth, 1986
— "Positronic Man", a 1992 novel derived from "Bicenntenial Man"
–Most recently the best selling Frankisstein, 2019 with its its sexbots, endowed with limited vocabulary, but soon to be upgraded.
If FP is to be criticized for its Robby what about those Nebula & Hugo winners?
Given Dr Morbius situation and Krell technology, why would he construct a "purpose-built machine that automates manufacturing?" How would a purpose-built machine that automates manufacturing be of aid to him? What he needed was a household assistant.
I couldn't tell you what 2020 looks like. I live in 1965!
That said, I'll not be surprised if my vision of the future turns out not to be correct. Most folk's aren't.
Thanks for stopping by!
> If FP is to be criticized for its Robby what about those Nebula & Hugo winners?
Tell that to someone living in 1965 when this article / review of FP was written.
I was "anonymous" above. Time machines as to who would be the Nebula and Hugo winners in 1968 and beyond were not in play in '65. Am I mistaken?
The Time Machine, invented by Mr. Wells in 1895, was discovered in a warehouse in Surrey-On-Thames by a Mr Andersen and used to test the hypothesis proposed in the original article.