A riff on shakespeare’s the tempest, forbidden planet is one of the amazing sci-fi memories approximately the relation of humans to their questioning machines. While commander j. J. Adams’s (leslie nielsen) starship lands on the barren planet of altair iv to investigate what have become of a colony installed there twenty years earlier, he and his team are met by using its sole survivors: dr. Morbius (walter pidgeon);
His lovely daughter, altaira (anne francis); and their robot, robby, a assemble more advanced than even those twenty third-century men have encountered. They regularly find out that the health practitioner hasn’t, like the tempest’s prospero, harnessed the strength of mystic natural forces, but accessed a significant subterranean technological community left by using a long-lifeless civilization. Forbidden planet can be rightly critiqued for its icky gender politics, but the subplot regarding the distance-farers’ manipulative sexual pursuit of altaira ties into the movie’s point that, for people, as a minimum, there’s no removing the identification, of escaping from our our bodies into an digital international. The film presents a still-haunting prognosis: that the human psyche is now the vulnerable link within the human-technology comments loop, not able to achieve the rationality its machines call for from it, and consequently destined for breakdown.