When it comes to animated films, very few are as original or daring as Fantastic Planet (French: La Planète Sauvage), the audacious French-Czech science fiction epic by René Laloux that has come to be seen as one of the most iconic animated films of the 1970s, and an indelible part of arthouse science fiction. A strange but captivating saga that runs at just over an hour in length, this is a masterpiece of speculative fiction, and one of the most masterful representations of our world ever committed to film. In all honesty, I had been aware of this film for a while, always being cognisant of its reputation and recognizing the iconic imagery that sets it apart from more modern animated fare, but had never actually gotten around to watching it – but after recently venturing into the wonderfully deranged mind of Laloux, I realized how much I had been missing. A gorgeous, psychedelic tale that may be set on a distant planet, telling a story very different from what we ourselves experience, Fantastic Planet is a powerful and breathtaking science fiction odyssey that feels both intimate and epic, harrowing and beautiful, and utterly exquisite in both its intention and execution. This film is more than just a set of iconic images, and proved to be a watershed moment in animation at the time, and while it may certainly be somewhat rough around the edges and often demonstrates some of the challenges it encountered in the process of being made, like any influential piece, its flaws don’t detract from the experience, but allow it to flourish into this magnificent piece that feels much bigger than it actually is.

The storyline is quite straightforward – sometime in the distant future (or could this film be taking place an extremely long time ago? The final scene leaves this up to interpretation), there is a planet occupied by enormous blue entities known as Draags who live relatively peaceful lives, where their days are occupied with learning and meditating. The planet is also occupied by humans, who are referred to as “Oms” by the creatures. The protagonist is Terr, who has been held captive by the giant natives of the planet since infancy, being kept as a pet by the daughter of a scholar, who is enthralled by the behaviour of the little beast in her possession. He grows weary of being kept in captivity, and as soon as his keeper loses interest in him, he escapes and eventually joins a group of fellow Oms, who begin to rebel against their maniacal overlords, who are planning to domesticate as many of them as they can, and to exterminate those who don’t comply, in a purge that seems far too similar to some very real events. Over time, the Oms begin to learn more, through Terr’s refusal to allow their captors to take advantage, and eventually gaining the technological knowledge they need, they overcome their diminutive status in comparison to the Draags, who are equally as intent on eliminating these troublesome creatures as fast as possible, in order to maintain their idyllic balance. Harmony and peace between the species seem almost impossible – but could there possibly be some hope of reconciliation on the horizon?

Fantastic Planet is a film that anyone can see is purely allegorical – despite being an extremely surreal science fiction piece, this is something rooted very deeply in reality, and can easily be discussed not as being solely speculative, but as a set of complex and very resonant themes, repurposed through the lens of an increasingly psychedelic science fiction story. This film operates on two alternating allegorical levels, and it is never clear which one Laloux seemed to have in mind when making Fantastic Planet (it is very likely both played a major part in the creation of the film). The first is that of the relationship between human beings and animals. At the outset of Fantastic Planet, we see a woman and her infant child running feverishly, trying to desperately avoid the grasp of a set of blue hands. When we realize that this terrifying chase was actually just some Draag children engaging in apparently innocent fun, we start to understand how the Oms are viewed – they are nothing more than animals, wild creatures that can be domesticated and kept captive, purely for the sake of entertainment, and whose deaths are inconsequential, as they are perceived as nothing more than pests. They are not seen as beings with any substance and are nothing more than novelties. Initially more of a comedic tone, due to the almost absurd image of seeing human beings reduced to the status of household pets, it takes on a slightly darker tone when it becomes clear that being as sentient as they are, the domesticated Oms want to escape – it starts to create an uneasy sense of inequality and captivity, that is a lot more uncomfortable and thought-provoking than it appears to be at the outset.

Perhaps a heavy-handed theme, but the way in which this film constructs the difference between the Draags and the Oms extends further than just being an amusing contrast between different species, where we see supposedly the apex predator (ourselves) reduced to the status of nothing more than pets. Fantastic Planet is much more, and the other major allegory in this film, arguably the main one, is not built out of the differences between animals and people, but the differences between ourselves. Human rights form the core of the film, and considering this came about around a time when various nations were either coming out of periods of segregation and separation between races, or in the peak of it, is impossible to ignore. There is a disconcerting theme pulsating through the centre of Fantastic Planet, whereby we are unsettled by his gorgeous metaphor for the most hideous of concepts. Racism and prejudice seem to be heavily informative to the film, and the construction of the binary between groups, whereby they are not only perceived as being different but with one group being inferior to another. Its a difficult subject to experience in such a form, and even trying to unpack everything this films says about it is challenging. Yet, there is a simplicity to the way it presents it – Laloux doesn’t shy away from portraying it with stark honesty, and the juxtaposition between dreamlike visuals extracted from pure speculation, and very real issues derived from the depths of reality makes for very unsettling but profoundly interesting viewing.

It’s doubtless that had Fantastic Planet not been as visually dazzling, the message would not have been so effective. The style of this film is extraordinary even on its own terms – every frame is quite literally a painting, and the detail that went into every scene is astounding. Even taken on the surface, this film warrants its place in the artistic zeitgeist just on its aesthetic. However, when it becomes clear there is something much deeper to the film, the animation in Fantastic Planet takes on an entirely new meaning. It is designed in such a way to bring back memories of our childhood, with the detailed animation being evocative of the picture books I expect many of us grew up reading, featuring the same quaint charm and mystical beauty of those images that are etched into our minds from our formative years. Moreover, just like the books we encountered as children, there is some deeper meaning to the film, a parable at the core that is not concealed, but also not overtly stated, but rather assimilated slowly and steadily, until the message becomes very clear. It’s not enough to call the effort put into this film a labour of love – what Laloux and his animation collaborators do in this film is astounding, and borne out of necessity. The despair and angst flowing beneath this film are palpable and honest and only gives the reputation this film has amassed all the more meaningful.

Fantastic Planet takes advantage of its inception being in the ambigious era between the two peaks of Disney animation, crafting a film that is seemingly limitless in its imagination, and profoundly generous in how it tells a very resonant tale in a way that isn’t obtuse, but elegant and impactful. It is a transcendent film, the exact kind of social parable that is capable of changing minds and influencing the cultural situation in its own small way, simply because of the way it presents the story that is likely familiar to the majority of viewers who understand precisely what this film is trying to say. It is a bleak film – this is definitely not something made to entertain in any way. Yet, despite the complex social commentary at the core of the film, Laloux doesn’t dare neglect to indicate that there is a glimmer of hope even in the most troubling of situations. It is sometimes a bit of a haunting film – it takes the subject matter very seriously, but isn’t weighed down by it nearly enough for it to become troublesome or unpleasant. It has an immense heart, and it is clearly a film made to tell a powerful story, which it does with such grace and finesse. It is the ultimate irony – a film about another world entirely is the most adept at revealing the truths about our own.