2022-2023 Film Journal Entry #12
by Xavier E. Palacios
"Escape from the Planet of the Apes"
4 out of 5
Directed by Don Taylor
Rated "G"
In the second sequel to the original Planet of the Apes, the future Earth where talking, intelligent apes dominate dumb, animalistic humans has been destroyed by nuclear conflict between the two species. Salvaging the remains of the spaceship that brought Taylor, the first film's twentieth century protagonist, to this era, only three chimpanzees escape death: the doomed Milo (Sal Mineo) and the husband-and-wife scientists who first befriend Taylor, Cornelius (Roddy McDowall) and Zira (Kim Hunter). The shockwave of the apocalypse has sent their ship two-thousand years into the past; Los Angeles, 1970. At first, Cornelius and Zira are treated as celebrities and respected dignitaries of another time and place. They swiftly befriend fellow scientists Lewis Dixon (Bradford Dillman), Stephanie Branton (Natalie Trundy), and, later, circus leader Armando (Ricardo Montalbán). But when the Federal agent, Dr. Otto Hasslein (Eric Braeden), and his cohorts learn of Zira's pregnancy and uncover the enslaved fate of humankind by the apes, Cornelius, Zira, and their newborn become fugitives, and tragedy draws near.
From The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz, a cherished book I have previously discussed in these film journals:
Oscar remembers having a dream where a mongoose was chatting with him. Except the mongoose was the Mongoose.
What will it be, muchacho? it demanded. More or less?
And for a moment he almost said less. So tired, and so much pain — Less! Less! Less! — but then in the back of his head he remembered his family. Lola and his mother and Nena Inca. Remembered how he used to be when he was younger and more optimistic. The lunch box next to his bed, the first thing he saw in the morning. Planet of the Apes.
More, he croaked.
— — —, said the Mongoose, and then the wind swept him back into darkness.
I thought about this passage while watching Escape from the Planet of the Apes. Gosh. "Remembered how he used to be when he was younger and more optimistic." That book will continue to haunt me.
I have been a low-key huge fan of the Planet of the Apes series for a while. My transformation finished when I saw the franchise's latest picture, War for the Planet of the Apes, in theaters back in 2017, which eruptively sparked me and my brother's imaginations. When I say "low-key", I mean that my love for, say, the Alien series is pronounced. (I still swear I will get my best friend, Phillip, to watch Alien and Aliens). In contrast, I do not often talk about Apes as much. Yet whenever the subject pops up in any form, a giddiness, eagerness, and somewhat obsessiveness comes over me.
I grew up knowing about the series in the periphery of my life; probably beginning when the 2001 remake came out. Another instance of exposure was reading Adrian McKinty's book, The Lighthouse War, which has a scene where a self-denying uber-nerd remembers losing a date during the middle of a Planet of the Apes marathon but forgets during which film the lady left him. I became very hyped up for the release of the first installment of the reboot series, Rise of the Planet of the Apes, back in high school. That was when I found myself watching the very original 1968 film.
So began my years and years of evolving interest in this gloriously alternative, smart, thrilling, and dramatic science fiction series. I studied the making of the franchise. Bought a whole original film series box set. In a much older film journal, I watched the first sequel, Beneath the Planet of the Apes, (my quick review: the first forty-minutes or so actually are solid with a ton of potential, but once the story moves underground all interest, propulsion, and enthusiasm fades away to an uninspired ending). I saw each part of the rebooted trilogy in theaters; the second installment, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, I watched at a midnight showing with other fans as a birthday present for my brother. He and I created a pitch for a fourth film in that series we titled, Masters of the Planet of the Apes; a kind of political thriller between differing ape nations of the Earth. I doubt the next official installment, Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, will use any of our ideas but we are still especially looking forward to that film.
I daydreamed about my own Planet of the Apes-styled idea for years. I always ended up circling back to a kind of Swamp Thing-planet, and the current attempt I am pursuing is a one-shot, pulp comic book in the vein of a Genndy Tartakovsky action story called, "Brutal of Stemdara". My brother gifted me with an action figure of the villainous gorilla, General Ursus, for one of my birthdays. The figure once stood in my film editing office and, in my new place, is now displayed at my desk where I am writing these words (for those who read my entry for Godzilla Raids Again two film journals ago, my Gojira figure is still by my hands as I type). I am eager to read all kinds of comics in the series, especially after I read Planet of the Apes Visionaries, which adapted Rod Serling's very original and, in me and my sibling's opinions, superior, more enticing script for the '68 flick. (I would love for there to be a sequel to this comic; maybe they can resurrect elements from Adam Rifkin's cancelled Return to the Planet of the Apes project).
Heck, I even dreamed about Apes just the other night, thinking the upcoming film had followed the story my brother and I crafted. What I saw was glorious until I awoke. One can see why I relate to Oscar in that passage of Díaz's book.
The aesthetic of Planet of the Apes is highly unique: the classic make-up and prosthetics, revolutionary motion-capture visual effects, post-apocalyptic landscapes and ape society artistry, and silly conceit are given the utmost serious attention which transforms these tales into fascinating socio-political and psychological sci-fi dramas. What makes this series special is the sense of integrity most blockbusters do not have. Indeed, like the Rocky and Creed films, the Apes pictures show what blockbusters can be. Consider these facts. When War for the Planet of the Apes was being released, a university classmate, co-worker, and buddy of mine (I am still waiting for the Atlanta Falcons to win the Super Bowl just for him), once openly discussed the film with me. He was excited to see how the trilogy would end. Importantly, he was not a cinema guy, so him caring about a film like this one is significant.
War was genuinely anticipated by fans, critics, and general moviegoers who all went to see arguably the best picture of the three. They rightfully gave the piece great reviews, and the flick was very successful at the box office. Despite being a classical franchise, marquee name, War is an imaginatively crafted, dark, sometimes heartbreaking, and emotionally layered sci-fi film that asked questions. Like the prior two installments, and the original film series, War is, more or less, suitable for at least older kids but, all in all, is a mature piece for grown-ups regardless of the series' potentially goofy schtick. Just imagine what cinema could be like if Hollywood studios believed in these facts.
I do not think there is any other film series today that has such creativity, grimness, intellectuality, and drama. I do not even have to discuss how each story always ends bittersweetly, a gutsy tradition, to prove my point. These films are such a happy contrast to the oversaturated and overrated escapist flicks and sci-fi franchises forced down audiences' throats month after month, (since Disney refuses to give us Tron fans what we crave). So far as I have seen and read, not every Apes film, television episode, or comic book is stellar. Still, the Apes stories appeal to the little kid in me who adored gorillas (and still does); the philosophical teenager who, at that age, fell in love with the spiritually similar Star Trek tales; and the adult who yearns to be taken to whole new realms of cinema and experience what such works have to offer. If I had talked too much, well, I did warn how I get when Apes gets brought up.
Thankfully, I have not seen all the original films. Other than the first film, Beneath, and the accompanying retrospective documentary, that complete collection has just been languishing in a forgotten box in a closet for years and years. I genuinely have no idea why. Having recently gotten hit with an Apes craving, I resolved to finally continue the series where I left off with Escape from the Planet of the Apes, a little worried this third film would be of the sub-par quality like the second. I am happily surprised to say that Escape is a fine film that satisfies my yearning for more Apes stories.
Yes, the picture is a studio mandate and there are several elements that showcase this truth. Milo is a made-up character to deliver ludicrous exposition and is killed off early on the piece without making any impact. The entire conceit of how Cornelius and Zira escape the destruction of Earth at the end of Beneath and somehow travelled back in time is preposterous and unbelievable, from the salvaging of Taylor's sunken starship to them ending up in his era at all. Unless I missed something, I do not understand how Cornelius and Zira know the truth about the origin of their culture which they recount here considering this history was exactly what the orangutan, Dr. Zaius, was keeping from the public in the first film. Did the pair discover the total truth? Are they quoting unheard of passages from their sacred religious texts, maybe cross-referencing them with what they now know? This section is a little confusing. (I did not know the famous "NO!" from Rise of the Planet of the Apes came from this film).
The series' sharp edges, that wild sense of danger and otherworldliness, is somewhat diminished or lacking in Escape, though I admire the series going in a fresh direction instead of concocting more nonsense to recreate the caveman action stylings of the prior films. Regarding filmmaking, there is nothing in this flick which is particularly extraordinary like with the '68 film or the reboot trilogy. Yet, all in all, I really enjoyed this film and was surprisingly impressed with the piece.
What makes Escape really work, like the best Apes stories, is the combination of drama and debate. While I am a fan, I always felt the stories before the reboot trilogy were always too human centric. Being made by homo sapiens for homo sapiens, there was always a prejudicial tone to the Apes films that bugged me. As if what was wrong with the apes' society was not their hypocrisies but the fact that such sentient life exists at all when humans are around. The satirical point works well in the original flick, but, afterwards, tended to feel like disingenuous, pro-human prerogative. However, Escape finally clarifies and explores why the conflict between humans and apes is so central to the narrative: by so many flaws within both peoples, there is a strong belief and almost certainty that only one can truly survive.
When Cornelius and Zira make themselves known to the public, negating to mention the more sensitive and harsher truths of their society, they happily find a new, welcoming home. The film takes on a pleasant tone and, before I continue, I must say how much I have always loved this pair of characters and their actors. McDowall and Hunter play them perfectly. I always believe in them and their relationship. I cannot think of another duo like Cornelius and Zira: a married couple who are curious scientists, argue, and truly love each other. Escape made me laugh heartily because of these characters and performers. They are arguably the best part of the film, easily carrying what could have been a flick that strayed too far from the essence of the series.
The husband and wife's optimism for the future is tainted by this dread amongst the humans, particularly from Hasslein, the well-tempered and plausible villain. For if Cornelius and Zira are from a future time doomed to nuclear destruction, an era where apes are the dominant species on the planet, what will become of the humans of 1970? Unlike the first sequel, Escape discusses the ramifications of this forbidden knowledge bestowed upon humans. Those like Armando, who already loves animals, sees the idea of his kind fading away for those like these two apes as romantic and worth protecting. The President of the United States is pragmatic about their solutions to the topic, refusing to harm Cornelius and Zira to prevent a possible future without concrete evidence about humanity's destiny. But Hasslein, who does find more but not irrefutable proof of the human race's enslavement by apes, this future must be stopped at all costs.
Because when the extinction-prevention shoe is on the other foot, the idea of altering the future becomes terribly tempting. Unlike the last two films, I cannot ignore that simple truth. Positively, like the reboot trilogy, I also understand both sides of the conflict. The proposal to kill the pair's child and assure their infertility would be genocide. Yet, seemingly, one species cannot exist without the other being subjugated, and few humans could let such a cosmic verdict be passed upon them and their children willingly. There is an upsetting, engaging inevitability to the entire picture. Additionally, placing Cornelius and Zira in the position of the oppressed and alien is a novel idea that works well dramatically but also thematically.
In Serling's original script for the first film, the apes treat Taylor, then called Thomas and a much more decent fellow, with respect and humility; they wish to learn more about his culture. Yet they are wary that his presence will enhance the inherent savagery within humans which can engulf the planet. The apes, after all, are a species that has never used nuclear weapons as the humans have on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, as Thomas himself admits. Never mind the hidden truth that, against what he hopes and believes, humanity used such weapons again and ruined the Earth.
Similarly, the humans initially treat Cornelius and Zira with open arms, bringing the tone of Serling's vision to life. Yet their interest in them is more for curiosity's sake, not to embrace a brighter future. Ever so slowly, humanity's self-centered paranoia gets the better of them. Their violent tendencies overpower their hopes for tolerance and unity, just as any ape would have predicted. The chimpanzees' home turns against them for no other reason than that the pair represent the probable age when people are nothing but dehumanized slaves on an Earth that will perish in nuclear fire.
But Hasslein does not act out of nor represent pro-human ideology. He is as human as I am and dedicates himself to preventing this terrible fate now thrust upon his conscience. Humans no longer being the dominant race is not the issue. The horror is that Cornelius and Zira, loving and wise as they are, have dissected humans and treated them like cattle. The apes' society was cruel and unkind to humans even as they preached and practiced non-violence against each other. The nuclear destruction in Beneath began with their crusading violence, too. At the same time, for starters, everyone knows the daily holocaust of red meat that proceeds every day; to reference a scene from The Simpsons, "Bovine University" is a terrible thing. As detailed in this film and exemplified in the reboot trilogy, humanity's apocalyptic downfall never has anything directly to do with the evolving apes. So, the blame and prevention games go on and on, until tragedy emerges victorious.
Indeed, I am reminded of Serling's script again. The original film ends with that famous curse by Taylor after he discovers he has, all along, been on Earth two-thousand years in the future: "You maniacs! You blew it up! Ah, damn you! God damn you all to hell!" But his first iteration, Thomas, who ends up being surrounded by several apes with guns pointed at him, has a much quieter reflection when he learns the truth. The moment has stuck with me. "I'm afraid there's no place to run to. There's no place to go." Instead of just Trekkian debate, Escape has sad drama.
The home Cornelius and Zira believed was a place where they could safely raise their newborn imprisons them. Turns them into enemies. Threatens their lives. While there are good people who protect and try to save them with foolproof plans, everything just goes wrong. Tis a good love story, but one that does not end happily. By the human's fear, hatred, greed, panic, and ignorance, the same attitudes the apes of the future bore which destroyed the pair's Earth, the best laid schemes o' apes an' men gang aft agley, as the Robert Burns poem, "To a Mouse", could go.
Without spoiling the ending, Zira makes unbearably difficult choices for the potential salvation of her child because the darkness of the Apes series cannot be escaped. She knows there is nowhere to go. Escape ends like the other tales do: bittersweetly. I was left saddened and wondering if humanity can ever save itself and other species on this planet from, well, itself. Or maybe the evil in them infects all intelligent life.
As proof of Escape from the Planet of the Apes' quality, I did not expect to write so much about this film. Golly, I am glad to be an Apes fan and leave the poorness of Beneath in the metaphorical rearview mirror after so frigging long. Now, my rambunctious love of this series eases into soft-spoken admiration, and my fandom returns to sleep. For now. Because, as that iconic poster reads, when this series wants me "To Go Ape!" once more, then the Planet of Apes shall rise with me again!