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| (Courtesy Pixels Merch) |
Planet of the Apes (1968)
A trio of American astronauts, on a special mission deep in space, crash land on a strange planet ruled by human-sized primates, while people there are enslaved or used for sport. That’s the premise of the original 1963 novel, La Planète des singes, by French author Pierre Boulle, and the basis for the groundbreaking film adaptation released five years later.
From a screenplay by Rod Serling and Michael Wilson, and under the direction of Franklin J. Schaffner (not to mention Steadicam cinematography by Leon Shamroy), Planet of the Apes was headlined by screen legend Charlton Heston, as lead astronaut Taylor. Though known for such larger-than-life figures as Moses and Judah Ben-Hur, Taylor is a much more complex role for Heston to flex his acting muscles—and literally, since many of his scenes involve him being shirtless or in dirty rags—as he searches for answers to how this mysterious civilization came to be.
Planet of the Apes is most famous for its impressive makeup effects by John Chambers and his team. And they’ve managed to convincingly pull off not one but three different species of monkeys, from scientist chimpanzees (including Kim Hunter’s Zira and Roddy McDowell’s Cornelius) to militaristic gorillas and politician orangutans (led by Maurice Evan’s commanding Dr. Zaius).
But the film has so much more going on underneath all that makeup and world-building. This is a thoroughly-engrossing science-fiction tale with challenging themes of evolution, power, class, religion, enslavement, and destruction. (Reportedly, that first sight of apes on horseback, as well as Heston’s oft-quoted line in their presence, and the shocking twist at the end, were and remain jaw-dropping moments in cinema.) The result is haunting and thought-provoking.
It’s also worth noting that, while this film (and most of its sequels) received a “G” rating upon release, this is not really a child-friendly movie, due to scenes of nudity, sexuality (including Linda Harrison’s mute Nova), language, and intense action and violence. Not to mention a pervasive sense of chills and thrills. That would be a madhouse for the little ones.
20th Century Fox followed up the successful Planet of the Apes with this lackluster (and stranger) sequel that centered on a different astronaut, on a rescue mission, who eventually discovers a secret underground society of telepathic people. Beginning exactly where the last film ended, Taylor (Charlton Heston, in a rather small role) suddenly disappears, leaving his mate Nova (Linda Harrison, once again) on a search for help. She soon meets Brent (an engaging James Franciscus, who bears a resemblance to Heston), and they both not only try to survive the present ape society (on its way to war, apparently), but are shocked at the discovery of a secret world deep into the “Forbidden Zone” that (gasp) worships an atomic bomb.
Maurice Evans (Dr. Zaius) and Kim Hunter (Zira) reprise their respective roles from the first movie. And there are some thought-provoking themes about characters contemplating what they’ve lost or left behind, as well as political or ethical conflicts between intelligence and morality. The same with prejudice, power and control.
Whereas the first film was Grade A, Beneath the Planet of the Apes is B-level moviemaking, both visually and viscerally. Several obvious green screen effects (from lightning strikes to earthquakes and firestorms) are dated, as is the film’s sexual imagery and revealing garbs (including a scene of implied and forced rape?). As soon as our main characters discover what was once an underground subway station, the movie loses it from there, thanks, in part, to fast editing and a screeching sound design.
This cult of Doomsday worshippers—and it is clearly a cult, with creepy and radiated skin—confuse peace with malevolence, and thereby mentally force others to kill each other.) That’s messed up. With more of an emphasis on man-made religion and destruction, Beneath has one of the most depressing and nihilistic endings of any film—certainly in this original series. This was reportedly Heston’s idea, as he believed it would not guarantee any more installments. Be careful what you wish for.
Considered by many to be the best of the Apes sequels, Escape From the Planet of the Apes opens with scientist chimpanzees Zira and Cornelius (Kim Hunter and Roddy McDowell, the latter of whom couldn’t be in the previous movie due to scheduling conflicts) as they, along with a fellow doctor, crash land from the future into present day California. What follows is a subversive franchise entry that embraces more comedic aspects while retaining the series’ trademark surprise/shock factor.
A subplot explains that the three primates found one of the American spaceships (from the previous films), fixed it up, and managed to escape earth just before a nuclear explosion that destroyed the planet. A bit far-fetched, perhaps. But it sets the stage for an exceptional three-act structure in which our sole ape characters are embraced by the general public and bask in various trends and culture of the time (the story actually takes place in 1973), including fashion, television, sports, women’s rights, and museums. But Zira and Cornelius eventually go on the run once dark secrets of a possible future are revealed and those in power label them as threats to human civilization, especially since Zira is expecting a child.
Escape also counts as something of a reboot in this series, as it deals with time travel and relevant fears of the unknown, including the future. As one character asks, “Given the power to alter the future, have we the right to use it?” The screenplay (written by Paul Dehn) even throws in discussions about the nature of evil and the existence of God, but not passively. And it does all of these things with genuine character development, conflict, and emotional and moral stakes. “We think we have all the time in the world,” argues a political official, “How much time does the world got?”
But because this is a Planet of the Apes story, it also has tragedy. Not only does one character or more apparently condone suicide in one scene, but the tension and suspense throughout the film’s third act boils to a sad finish. Then again, the chimps did have Ricardo Montalban’s circus manager Armando on their side.
The Planet of the Apes series took a daring and controversial turn with a fourth installment in the early-1970s. Roddy McDowell headlined this darker chapter, this time as Caesar, the son of simians Cornelius and Zira. Set in the year 1991 (or rather, a 1970s version of the future, and 20 years after the events of Escape), the human-ape roles have been reversed—primates are enslaved, and fearful or controlling human beings try to keep them in check and prevent a reported apocalypse.
Caesar’s existence and true identity—no other ape can speak but him—is unknown to everyone else, except for his kind-hearted master and circus friend Armando (Ricardo Montalban, once again). But after a heated public incident nearly blows their cover, the two are forced to split up and blend in with society. As Armando is interrogated, Caesar is horrified by the cruelty his brethren face on a daily basis. But step by step, he spreads the word about a plan to fight back and free his fellow captives.
This is a story where police officers and other authority figures are the villains (which is hard to watch, given the numerous related headlines our culture has seen in recent years). Moments involving torture and beatings are one thing. But when the central rebellion really gets going, it’s relentlessly violent and polarizing. One of the lone exceptions in this batch of human characters is the governor’s right-hand man, McDonald (played by Hari Rhodes), who reveals unexpected motives that make him a trustworthy and empathetic figure. He even has two of the film’s best moments, evoking humanity in the midst of all the chaos and slaughter.
Conquest of the Planet of the Apes was the first and only PG-rated sequel in the series. But it should stand as further proof that these films were never really for children. McDowell once compared this sequel to other gritty films of its era, such as Dirty Harry and The French Connection. With scenes involving weapons, gunfire, explosions, property damage, one suicide, and a main character who ultimately becomes the future that humanity feared (very haunting), it’s not hard to see why.
The final installment in the original series, Battle for the Planet of the Apes proceeds the devastating events of Conquest—twelve years after an atomic explosion ignites a war between simians and mutated human adversaries. In this chapter, Caesar (Roddy McDowell, one last time) leads a community of surviving apes (including his chimpanzee wife Lisa, orangutan confidant Virgil, and militaristic gorilla Aldo) and allied human beings.
Screen veteran John Huston makes an appearance as the eponymous “Lawgiver,” who recounts the events from the previous two films. In those respects, Escape, Conquest, and Battle form their own trilogy within this franchise, culminating in a battle between not only man and beast, but also ape against ape. Caesar even journeys to a “Forbidden City” to look for answers to his past, and soon comes face to face with (what looks like) a former assistant to the governor from Conquest.
Other themes include religion, the nature of good and evil, the reality of war, power, control, and what it means to be human. But Battle feels like it retreads familiar territory. It’s a very dialogue-driven piece, and, perhaps, the tamest of all the Apes films by comparison. Still, it does contain scenes of intense violence (predating Mad Max and The Terminator), including one tragic, merciless death (a moment that’s reiterated later on, supposedly going against what the central community stands for).
The success of this franchise (around the same time as James Bond and Star Trek) soon led to an animated television series, a successful merchandising campaign, an insightful behind-the-scenes documentary in 1998 (one of McDowell’s last on-camera appearances before his death that year), and a hilarious parody on an episode of The Simpsons. Talk about monkey-see-monkey-do.
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