There are few categories of film that are quite as divisive as the sub-genre of 1950s science fiction, which has been a polarizing subject for many, since some view it as a highly influential moment in the history of cinema, while others are dismissive of their tendency to usually be nothing more than cheaply-made B-movies that entertain for an hour or two, but don’t leave any discernible cultural footprint. However, the natural response to the latter opinion is usually to point towards films like The Day the Earth Stood Still and Forbidden Planet (or my own personal choice, the extraordinary The Colossus of New York, my choice for the greatest science fiction film of all time), which are not only exceptionally well-made, but truly compassionate and insightful about several prescient issues. Today’s discussion is not about one of those films, or any that are even close to it. This conversation is about the very antithesis of these films, since for every complex and well-constructed masterpiece of compassionate science fiction, there is a film like Tobor the Great – a film assembled so quickly, it lacks the depth that it genuinely thinks it is regularly showcasing. Don’t make any mistake – this is a wonderful film and one that has many moments of excellent storytelling, but not in the sense that it felt like it was dealing with issues far deeper than the surface, which is quite ironic considering this film wanted to contribute to such discussions, but falls short on a primordial level. However, for every flaw that we find in this film, there is a merit, and they ultimately end up balancing each other out in creative and meaningful ways, which helps the film develop into a wildly entertaining, but undeniably slight, addition to a genre that was still taking shape, but yet felt like it was already becoming overstuffed with ambition, leading to a few films that are slightly deformed, but still have valiant intentions and a strong sense of moral and artistic fortitude.

Something that you learn when you have spent enough time with a specific genre that was at its peak during a very distinct moment in the past is that nearly every one of these films is commenting on issues that exist outside of the fantastical worlds being created in the stories. There is an argument that every work of art is inherently political in some way (even if only possessing the most inconsequential undertones), and while this is perhaps too broad a statement, the science fiction films produced during the 1950s most certainly commented on issues far broader than just speculative tales of space travel and major technological advancements. Science fiction was the most popular genre in which Hollywood could place narratives based on the Cold War, with the sense of both excitement at the scientific progress being made in this period, and the paranoia that came with the perpetual feeling of being on the brink of nuclear annihilation, being commonly found in these narratives. Some exercised them better than others, but they all share the same quality of coming about at a time when the United States was actively fighting against the spread of various ideologies, which may not seem like they’d factor into a film like this, but considering the depth to which these paranoia feeling were driven by the rise in technology and how it can be used as a force of destruction, it does make sense that this was the genre that was most impacted by the real-world activities that otherwise served to stir quite a reaction amongst those who paid attention. It doesn’t mean that Tobor the Great has even an iota of scientific complexity, with the entire premise being far too absurd to ever be plausible. However, the sense of dread that emerges throughout this story is quite intriguing, and director Lee Sholem (who had worked in this genre previously, to relatively serviceable results, and is popular seen as being the most prolific director in Hollywood history) knows how to balance the thrills and paranoia so that they are working with each other, rather than in opposition.

However, even with all this context, one has to admire the sheer gall that went into the creation of this film, since everyone involved managed to find a way to get away with the sheer absurdity that drives this story – and there is something quite admirable about a film that takes such a daring stance, knowing that the risk can sometimes be more exciting than the reward on the other side. This is a film that features a main character named “Tobor”, which is simply the word “robot” reversed (and the fact that the film acknowledges this somehow makes it even more peculiar – in a scientific world where everything is given a name with layers of meaning, an esteemed engineer simply reversed a word and deemed that an acceptable name for his creation – it is difficult to argue with this logic), and everything else that follows is borne from this same place of deep absurdity. Tobor the Great was made by someone who had directed over a thousand different films for television and cinema, since the rapid-fire pace and clear shortcuts being the product of someone who just saw this as another job, rather than an artistic endeavour, which is, unfortunately, an all too common occurrence with B-movies, which rarely featured directors who understood that they stood on the precipice of some of the most potentially influential films in a given genre (and there are even a few that predated multiple genres and conventions, without even realizing that they were pioneers in their own right), and one has to wonder how different this film might have been with a more dedicated filmmaker at the core. However, Sholem still does what was required (and some of the more questionable decisions can be attributed to screenwriters Philip MacDonald and Carl Dudley, who were responsible for the more stilted dialogue and overstuffed narrative that could have benefitted from some editing), and the film finds so much expected merit in the pure absurdity that surrounds it, making it unexpectedly delightful, but also unintentionally funny, which was not the aim, but rather a consequence of some slightly more shoddy, inconsistent filmmaking.

Tobor the Great is a film that takes many bold swings, and it is ultimately difficult to fault it for having genuine and undying belief in its narrative, even if it lacked the substance that it earnestly believed it possessed. It needed more time – it is understandable why films of this nature were only given just over an hour to tell their stories (this one in particular only running for 70 minutes) – and with slightly more space, it might have had the opportunity to develop on some of its ideas in a way that felt actively engaging, rather than rushing to tie up all the loose ends. It is not a film that is particularly accessible, and our overall experience with this material is not always going to be particularly consistent, especially when it becomes increasingly clear that this isn’t going to have a neat resolution, with Sholem using every bit of the limited time he had to unpack a range of ideas, but struggling to resolve all of them, leading to far too many inconsistencies in the plot. There isn’t anything particularly noteworthy about the film (except the humour, but as mentioned above, it is almost certain that this was unintentional), with passable performances that could have been more interesting with stronger writing, and the effects themselves are far too pedestrian, even for a low-budget film (and despite being the central character, there is very little effort put into the character of Tobor) – and it all accumulates into something that doesn’t represent the best the genre has to offer, even if it isn’t bad, just a bundle of missed opportunities. The only viewers that I’d expect would get value out of this film are those who are more seasoned with this style of filmmaking, since it doesn’t feel approachable to those who are perhaps more new to the genre. It’s not a bad film, just not one that stands out – and in an era where science fiction films were a dime a dozen, it seems misguided to adhere so closely to conventions since the best that could happen is the film fades into the background, which is wholeheartedly the case here.