In preparation for this summer’s prequel/reboot/preboot/whatever, Rise of the Planet of the Apes, the Alamo Drafthouse and Badass Digest hosted a back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back screening of the original five films. (Tim Burton’s 2001 “re-imagining” was curiously absent.) As a newcomer to the sequels, here are some thoughts on a couple of the nuttiest sci-fi adventures cranked out in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s.
Planet of the Apes (1968)
You know what I forgot about this? How much of a jerk Taylor (Charlton Heston) is. Only he could be stranded on a seemingly foreign planet with two other astronauts and little hope for survival and go, “I told you so.” Their ship – the poorly-named Icarus (see also: Sunshine) – has taken them as far as 3978 A.D. Everyone that they knew is dead, and everything that they know is turned upside-down when, yep, it appears that apes have become dominant over man. The obvious topsy-turvy appeal of the plot remains, but the elements which eluded me as a kid prove striking still: its damning critique of rule under religion, the relatively subtle suggestion of racial role reversal in the wake of the Civil Rights Movement, and the extent to which Taylor is a fatalist – an attribute which makes that infamous reveal seem even bleaker than ever before.
Beneath the Planet of the Apes (1970)
So what does Taylor do after discovering that he’s actually back on Earth? He continues into the desert with his mute lady friend, Nova, until they end up threatened by walls of flame and the sudden appearance of cliffs; Taylor vanishes shortly thereafter. Luckily enough, another astronaut appears, played by James Franciscus and clearly intended to substitute for a star who only agreed to return if he could shoot all of his scenes within two weeks’ time. This Brent fellow teams up with Nova, discovers that apes are running the joint now, discovers that the Forbidden Zone is actually New York City, et cetera, before making contact with a telepathic race of mutants who can create illusions of walls of flame and sudden cliffs, and who sound like a game of Simon when they communicate. Having already been subjected to nuclear fallout, this lot worships the world’s last remaining warhead and intends to use it against the apes. The primate forces proceed to shoot Nova, killing her, shoot Brent, killing him, and shoot Taylor, who then proceeds to set off the bomb and destroy everything on Earth. That’s right, Planet – you’ve been outbleaked!
So how do you make a sequel to the end of the world? Why, with time travel, of course! Apparently, while most apes were gunning down most humans, the always-sympathetic Cornelius and Zira (Roddy McDowell and Kim Hunter) repaired Taylor’s sunken ship and took off through the same time rift that brought those astronauts into the future. It’s now 1973, and the world is positively tickled by the existence of talking apes – save for Dr. Otto Hasslein (Eric Braeden), who realizes that these visitors, now with child, might be giving their species a head-start in eventually dominating the human race. Dr. Hasslein will proceed to gun down Cornelius, Zira and a young chimp decoy for their actual child before being gunned down himself. Their son, Milo, has been saved by kindly circus man Señor Armando (Ricardo friggin’ Montalbán) and soon utters his first words. Pretty bleak, and yet not bleak enough.
In 1972’s idea of 1991 Los Angeles, all humans wear black turtlenecks and all simians have been enslaved as first pets, then servants, after an epidemic killed all dogs and cats (an epidemic which we learn was caused by Cornelius and Zira’s journey back in time, from a future where the disease already existed). Milo is now Caesar, forced after an outspoken remark to integrate within the ranks of the enslaved and generally displeased with the way his fellow ape is treated. When Señor Armando dies following an interrogation, Caesar becomes convinced that rebellion is the only answer. Everything plays out as foretold, with Caesar leading his fellow slaves into tearing down the fascist establishment; his only human ally is an African-American man similarly disgusted with the oppressive Governor (Don Murray), rendering completely obvious any and all parallels to colonial slavery. MacDonald (Hari Rhodes) tries to plead for Caesar to show mercy, and fails, but when Caesar’s love interest, Lisa (series staple Natalie Trundy), utters her very first words in the man’s defense, he argues for ruling with humanity and not tyranny. (The original ending actually saw the Governor killed as ordered, maintaining the franchise’s penchant for bleakness up until that point. Let’s revolt against test audiences!)
Apparently, apes and humans have pretty much gotten along since the uprising, effectively negating everything the first four films have established about one species coming to dominate the other. The gorillas aren’t happy, though, namely Aldo (Claude Akins), who used to be regarded as the first dissenting ape until Lisa and her test-audience ending came along and mucked the continuity up. Caesar and Lisa now have a son named Cornelius, named after that gunned-down grandfather of his, a father that Caesar never got to know. MacDonald (now Austin Stoker) encourages Caesar to return to the ruins of Los Angeles to see what documents about Cornelius, Sr. and Zira remain in the archives and what they might reveal about the future to come. They return armed, though, and the surviving humans (led by the man who interrogated poor Señor Armando to death) take that as provocation enough to strike back. Aldo takes their advances as cause enough to round up all humans and stage a coup for Caesar’s power – a coup overheard by Cornelius, Jr., who is then fatally injured by Aldo. (Got it? Good.) An attack ensues, and while Caesar doesn’t stop the gorilla from killing the retreating humans, he refuses to let Aldo kill the ones that already co-exist alongside apes. When it’s revealed that Aldo killed not only a fellow ape, but Caesar’s son at that, Caesar avenges his death proper and then apes and humans pretty much continue to get along, which suggests that nothing bleak will ever happen to Charlton Heston’s character after all.
Except that it already has. Great, now I’ve gone cross-eyed…
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar