Science fiction has always been a source of an abundance of fascinating storytelling, with the idea of speculating about the future (or rewriting the past in creative ways) often resulting in stirring, captivating works in terms of both film and literature, many writers and directors positioning themselves as almost exclusively working within this genre, both for its immense popularity with audiences, and the fact that this is a genre that allows for endless possibilities by its very definition. The 1950s in particular were a watershe moment for science fiction, with both the written and visual manifestation of these ideas undergoing quite a rise in popularity. Cinematically, Hollywood had finally gotten to a point where more ambitious filmmakers could be hired to realize their vision, which usually included more peculiar stories, and the influx of new technology allowed these stories to be more easily made since many of them relied on effects that were previously inaccessible or wildly expensive. One of the best films produced during this era is The Colossus of New York, in which director Eugène Lourié and screenwriter Thelma Schnee tell a fascinating story about a promising young scientist who is accidentally killed, but to not lose those brilliant ideas that could change the world, his father and brother secretly remove his brain before his burial and implant it in an artificial body (the titular colossus), in the hopes that his talents will be able to manifest in this new entity, only to realize one cannot simply manufacture humanity, which they only learn after seeing the true impact of their actions. A brilliantly concise and often extremely engaging film that features many of the finest qualities available to science fiction filmmakers at the time, as well as one that contains many elements that would go on to become extremely influential in later years, The Colossus of New York, is an astonishing film that is surprising, even to those who are well-versed in science fiction and its capacity to be truly enthralling, especially in the areas that we may not initially expect such a film to flourish.

There is such a narrow boundary that divides good science fiction from the over-the-top, unintentionally funny failures that are sometimes more fondly remembered – and it is almost entirely defined by a combination of intention and execution. The Colossus of New York is a film that masters both, and easily becomes one of the great science fiction films of its era, for several reasons, almost all of which can be traced back to these two small but integral concepts. He may be cited as more of a director-for-hire in contemporary terms, but much of the success of this film comes from the involvement of Lourié, who may have been at the helm of many rapidly-made, low-budget science fiction films during this period, but whose work was always oddly empathetic and meaningful, proving that he infused even the most conventional stories with an abundance of heart and soul. This is essentially what gives The Colossus of New York such a distinct tone and appearance, making it one of the more progressive science fiction films produced at this time. This achievement is all the more impressive when we consider how this genre was usually subjected to the most rapid-fire filmmaking imaginable, with many popular science fiction films essentially being written as they were filmed, rather than being given any thought or being subjected to any kind of foresight. This is one of the primary aspects that differentiate this film from many others, since in terms of both style and concept, it never looks cheap, despite clearly being made on a slightly smaller budget. This only proves that when the right amount of effort is put into conceiving a story and realizing it in a way that feels consistent with its values, the resulting film can be extraordinary, and groundbreaking work in a genre that was already signalled for being one of the most experimental and revolutionary, at a time when it was also at its peak.

However, even if we can celebrate The Colossus of New York for being exceptionally well-made (some of its shots are gorgeous, and the design of the titular entity, while simple, is incredible), the reason this film has stood the test of time and become so incredibly engaging amongst the small but passionate group of supporters it has garnered over the years is all related to the theoretical concepts at the heart of the film. It wasn’t designed to be filled with scientific jargon (and the scientific and medical aspects are quite subdued), and instead focuses on themes that are not foreign to science fiction, but also not very prominent in most cases. This is a film that asks one of life’s most challenging questions: what does it mean to be human? Naturally, none of us can ever offer a definitive answer, so we can’t expect this film to offer anything more than just its speculation. Yet, it is in this very quality that the film becomes so moving since it is built around metaphysics, albeit the kind that looks at the fundamentals of humanity. It’s not a surprise that the writer of this film would later go into psychology, since the ideas she employs in the construction of the film indicate a profound understanding of the human condition and the way our mind works, long before it even begins to touch on the science that serves as the framing device for these deep philosophical quandaries. The Colossus of New York is somehow the most profoundly existential science fiction film of its era, joining The Day the Earth Stood Still as one of the most insightful investigations of humanity ever committed to film, which they do through examining the nature of existence from the perspective of outsiders, who peer into our world and make bold proclamations that reveal much more than even the most complex philosophical concepts could ever hope to achieve, which is a wonderful surprise, especially for a film as seemingly small and inconsequential as this one.

Science fiction has not always been a genre known for strong performances – there have certainly been a decent number of iconic roles and otherwise good work from actors, but for the most part, it has always been more driven by concept than character-based details. This is yet another area in which The Colossus of New York is a wonderful exception since the performances tend to become the main attraction of this film, and the main driving force behind its radical success. This is even more impressive considering none of the actors were considered major stars, nor were they classically trained, but yet delivered performances of such extraordinary calibre, it’s bewildering to imagine such strong work can exist in a film of this scope. We are misled into thinking that Ross Martin would be the lead, and while he is present throughout the film, we only hear his voice for the most part, with his physical body being enrobed in the enormous colossus costume – and yet he still manages to so effectively emote, even with such constraints. The actual leads are John Baragrey, who is constructed as the moral heart of the film, and Otto Kruger, who toggles the line between hero and villain with such extraordinary complexity, that it remains one of the most exceptional performances to ever appear in a science fiction film. The immense humanity of The Colossus of New York extends to the other characters as well – we may view Kruger’s character as a typical mad scientist too obsessed with whether he can achieve something that he never stopped to ponder if it should be done until we realize that before his role as a scientist, he is a father who lost his son, and given the opportunity, any of us would have done the same. Complex is abundant, enthralling human moments peppered throughout this film, which often works best when it is allowed to be slightly more attentive to the details beneath these characters, avoiding archetypes and ensuring that everything that it represents is meaningful and can extend far beyond just the realm of science fiction.

The Colossus of New York represents everything that has made science fiction such an extraordinary genre – it is a high-concept story that goes in search of deeper themes, far more complex than we’d anticipate from the start. There are so many wonderful details that inspire this film and make it such a quietly captivating masterpiece of early science fiction – it is defined by its humanity, rather than viewing these elements as just peripheral to the more ambitious content. This film proposes that an effective work of speculative fiction can emerge when we least expect it and that the combination of character-based detail and a bold concept, both of which have their roots in philosophical thought and psychology, can make for a perfect adequate and extremely poignant drama. The technical detail is not lacking either – there are moments when The Colossus of New York looks like the most gorgeous, visually striking film of this era, with the use of cutting-edge technology (for the period in which it was made) only supplementing the stunning detail that persists throughout this film, and which makes it such a thrilling, captivating experience. Not many films from this era can be so profoundly modern in their sensibilities that they can take us by surprise from a contemporary perspective – but if there was ever a film that could achieve this, it would be this beautifully poetic, astoundingly complex work that questions humanity in a way that would be enticing to even the most dedicated of philosophers, since its worldview is quite unlike anything we had seen at the time, and it remains refreshingly earnest and compelling in its intention to provoke a few complex ideas and maintain our attention while exploring them, proving that a good concept coupled with strong execution can turn even the most simple of ideas into resounding successes.