Franklin J. Schaffner, two years prior to producing his masterpiece, Patton, made Planet of the Apes. Based upon French novelist Pierre Boulle’s 1963 novel, La Planète des singes, Schaffner’s film was adapted by perhaps the only individual able to do justice to such material at the time, Rod Serling, along with the pen behind such works as Lawrence of Arabia, It’s a Wonderful Life, The Bridge on the River Kwai (also based upon a novel by Boulle), and A Place in the Sun–the (ironically fitting) blacklisted screenwriter Michael Wilson. What resulted was a work that–not since Jonathan Swift’s presentation of Yahoos and Houyhnhnms in the penultimate section of his masterwork, Gulliver’s Travels–made (and continues to do so) its audience so uncomfortable. Yet, humanity’s disquiet is exceedingly reasonable given the overriding ease we have via the reassure that we are at the top of evolutionary ladder. But, as Daniel Quinn–in his Socratic novel, Ishmael–reminds us, humanity’s ethics are not above moral law despite the fact that, at least for now, we have the might to reinforce the claim as such.

The power behind Schaffner’s work is perhaps best represented, not by the gross amount of allusion to the cinematic allegory since the time of its release (as evidenced by a first-time viewer’s lack of surprise at Planet of the Ape’s daunting conclusion), but by people haphazardly dismissing the work at the time of its premier (cf. Roger Ebert’s review). Though, arguably, one could posit that critics and audiences’ trivializing of the work, using such aesthetic euphemisms as “cute” and, by James Berardinelli’s attempt at deference, the value-depleting label, “action film,” serve as vain attempts at distilling the film’s prowess.

In short, Schaffner rhetorically asks how humanity would react if, upon the break of one otherwise ordinary day, a non-human animal rationally, lucidly spoke (not communicated, mind you, for–as the director coyly parodies–we already have a ready dismissal for such). Predictably, most everyone is able to answer such a question regardless if he or she has seen the feature, which is why Schaffner then follows with a parable whereby we watch the knee-jerk reaction to the ultimate concern with the aforementioned question: What if we were to awaken one day to find that humanity’s authority has not only been challenged but, unimaginably (and, natch, blasphemously), usurped?

Granted, there are logistic quibbles to be had with Schaffner’s feature, such as the accelerated evolution which takes place in a scant two millennia, the non sequitur of humans coincidentally landing upon a planet in which the native tongue is their own and never bothering to question the likelihood, and how shaving cream just happens to be readily available in a non-follicle-depleting community. Yet, to focus upon such arbitrary facets of a work which is brimming with numerous ideas is yet another indicator of the unnerving nature of what the director forces his viewers to attempt to reconcile.

The unease which countless numbers have vehemently reacted to begins, very subtlety, at the film’s opening in which George Taylor (Charlton Heston), after crashing upon a foreign planet and immediately checking to see if he is equipped with a firearm (granted, prophetically ironic over the course of three decades) and–upon noticing that the first peoples which he sees are primitive–imperialistically mutters, “If this is the best they’ve got, in six months we’ll be running this planet.”

Shortly thereafter, the titular rulers of the planet appear, taking Taylor hostage and, to his dismay, regard and treat him as a mere animal. After an ape-led siege upon a primitive human community, we are witness to an all-too-familiar, yet excessively unnerving reversal of fortunes. Following the murderous drive, we are given instances of the slaughtered (humans) strung up on racks as their corpses are drained of blood–à la deer, photographs being taken of hunter beside the hunted, and mention of experimental brain surgery upon the “animals” for the betterment of the ruling species. Cleverly, the impetus for most audience member’s blood running cold is perhaps not the inversion in question, but the ease at which the master class goes about what we are led to presume is normal events in both their, and their prey’s, lives.

Schaffner and Co. go on to satirize, mock, and parody human superiority in its various guises–pre-eminence which would later be dubbed by Australian philosopher Peter Singer as “speciesism,” one of the first instances of such being the supervising simian doctor, Zaius (Maurice Evans), readily dismissing Zira’s (Kim Hunter) claims that Taylor is–unlike his primitive, mute kin–attempting to communicate. The overseeing scientist aloofly declares, “He [Taylor] has a gift for mimicry,” the convenience of such a reading being later compounded by the doctor’s observation that the idea that Man is a “born killer” as evidenced by Taylor’s focused violence in lieu of the fact that the “animal” in question was forced into a position in which hostile action was the only option (cf. crocodile attacks upon the human populace in Florida, which are quickly and resolutely fatally avenged despite the fact that the animal’s environment has been violated and depleted of ready sustenance). Of course, this says nothing of a simian who “goes ape” as he maliciously enjoys torturing the animal which is Taylor as he hoses the latter down while the human cowers in the corner of his cage.

After satirizing humanity’s relationship with its animalistic kin, Schaffner goes on to cunningly highlight the coincidental appearance of tradition and relative mores which are used to further rebuke Taylor’s claims to equality. Just as quickly as Cornelius (Roddy McDowall) is reminded of his hypothesis of a potential missing link, he refutes his own theory by stating that he’d abandoned such naïve thought once the Academy decreed that such thinking was heresy and that, “If he where the missing link, the Secret Scrolls wouldn’t be worth their parchment.”

Sterling and Wilson then succinctly proceed to a kangaroo court in which Taylor stands accused though it is argued that he cannot be tried for it violates the precept that only simians, under simian law, can be held viable for willful, autonomous crime. As an inversion of the Scopes Monkey Trial unfolds where the judiciary panel literally covers its eyes, ears, and mouth, we quickly come to realize that, much like Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, government and religion have been conveniently aligned so as to create and sustain a status quo for Zaius is minister, scientist, as well as ruler, to which he states there is no innate contradiction due to his empirical gerrymandering later seen in the film (in yet another instance of Schaffner’s criticism of an all-too-familiar human society and its values). Another coy reversal of fortunes is addressed as the court divests that Man is mute, not because He lacks the physical ability to mummer His thoughts, but rather due to the fact that He fails to do so on account of a mental deficiency (the converse of what animal science tells us of primates).

As the film progresses, we come to suspect that the Secret Scrolls have been conveniently, not only placed, but created by the contemporary powers that be in order to prohibit questions which might upset their comfortable position within society (a hard-to-dodge symbolic criticism for those refusing to acknowledge the animal rights motif of the work in that such action places humans on a literally animalistic level). After we enter what the sacred texts posit as the “Forbidden Zone” (so named for no explicable purpose at the time) we only then come to realize the motivation for its title as, shortly thereafter, it is with much horror that we watch as Schaffner unapologetically remains true to the tone and mindset of his characters as the revelation of what is is subsequently eradicated under the guise of “the sake of society” or, in more blatant terms, the retention of Zaius’s power. Interestingly (or sadly given the reader’s perspective), Planet of the Apes was rated “M” for mature audiences at the time of its release (only to be issued to home theater audiences with the benign rating of “G”) for reasons which become hyperactively ironic in respect to “protected knowledge,” especially when one considers the import of the film’s conclusion which, in itself, was subject to potential censorship.

To this day, many critics attempt to distance themselves from the work via the terms “laughable,” “campy,” and the like–which any viewer knows is analogous to calling vanilla chocolate–which further attests to the work’s resilient potency. Franklin J. Schaffner’s indictment upon human aggression, political/religious bedfellows, the judicial system, class struggle, and animal/human relations–though perhaps more overtly volatile at the time of its release due to the fact that the work preyed upon our concern with what we might find a year later when we reached the moon–Planet of the Apes continues to do what few films can: provoke a reaction in its audience. Thus, amid Taylor’s contemplation at the film’s open of whether or not man has continued to keep his neighbor’s (literal or Darwinian) children starving after his 700 year absence upon planet Earth, we continue to paradoxically cringe in fear–not so much at the mere thought that, one day, the shoe might be forced onto the other foot and that we might be obligated to reap the pain and suffering which we have and continue to sow–but at the possibility that humanity might not reign supreme (and that the former will subsequently follow) despite the fact that, as Schaffner outlines with his character of Zaius, we might already be malevolently ruled and, at that, by our own kind.

-Egregious Gurnow