Voyage to the End of the Universe

I just saw a gorgeous, widescreen, subtitled print of "Ikarie XB 1", also known as "Voyage To The End of the Universe", at Boston's Museum of Fine Arts. The print, restored by the Czech studio that originally released it, is in black and white, and was obviously shot that way. Its complete running time is listed in the program notes as 84 minutes, though it may have been a few minutes longer. (I should have checked my watch). Like several others who've commented on this, I first saw this movie as a kid when AIP released a dubbed version in the 60s. Its definitely not a kiddie movie, and is still quite impressive for its effects and production design, as well as its intelligent story.

This is for sf-film completists. It seems to fill a gap between the late-50's style of sf movie and the forever-after effects of Star Trek and Kubrick's "2001." The only version you're likely to see is the American International release. The Encyclopedia of SF says the original film is in color, but AI's print is B&W, probably to save costs on the number of prints they may have made from a film I suspect they got for little money in the first place.

The story is about a big "community" sized spaceship making a long journey to "the green planet." Another reviewer said the ship was faster than light, but a couple of references to time-dilation effects in the dialog make it more likely that the ship was a near-lightspeed model. This has an influence on the spooky atmosphere that pervades the whole film, making the crew/community highly insular, as they realize they are cut off completely from the lives they have left behind.

The sfx are slightly better than Dr. Who episodes of similar vintage, with a couple of really good spacesuits and an unusual design for the ship itself. There's also a very, very neat shot of the ship in orbit around its destination that is a dead ringer for a similar moment in "Alien," and quite effective (in both films), in a way that most movies about spaceships seem to forego.

Still, the story rambles and seems kind of shallow. The sets and sfx aren't bad, but don't make up for the weak script. I recommend this for true lovers of the form (as I am), because you just wouldn't want to be left wondering what might have been going on in sf films, even east European ones, in the early '60s. Here's your answer.

Still relatively unfamiliar to western audiences, Ikarie XB 1 is an example of east European science fiction cinema on a fairly ambitious scale deserving of wider appreciation. Usually it's been only seen in a butchered edition created Stateside - duly shorn of a plot strand, dubbed with a different ending, with a dumb title.

With the benefit of hindsight, a lot of the original seems familiar. With its clean interior ship design, crew neck uniforms all round, glide doors, shiny deck flooring as well as a 15-year mission to seek out new life, Ikarie may have given later pause for thought for a certain Gene Roddenberry. Genre fans will also note that, during the first big set piece, the crew are startled by an unexpected alarm and deviate from their mission to investigate a derelict spacecraft - events which end with a nuclear detonation in space. Add to this the changes wrought by the American bastardisation of Voyage To The End Of The Universe, that included an ending which anticipates Planet of the Apes, as well as its possible inspiration to Kubrick when planning 2001, and Ikarie certainly offers much of interest. Not to mention its own borrowings eg Ikarie's robot Patrick, inspired by Forbidden Planet (1956)

Polák's was also responsible for an intriguing Nazi time travelling movie, with a small cult on its own account, Tomorrow I'll Wake Up And Scald Myself With Tea, made in the late 1970s. Less idiosyncratic than this, one imagines, Ikarie is much more serious in tone, set mostly aboard a roomy spacecraft, crewed by 40, dispatched to discover if there is any life on Alpha Centauri. A feeling of worthwhile isolation permeates this journey, with none of the trivial, trials and stresses one expects from space dramas made closer to home at this time, where mad scientists lurk, robots lumber threateningly or spacewomen defer to their mates. Missing too is the pseudo technical claptrap which lumbers much American SF, then or now. Ikarie's hardware exists mainly in the background, without need of explanation. The film expects us to take its conspicuous 22nd century advances just as seen, being concerned more with sociology than technology.

Ikarie features a harmonious society in miniature, shown in a series of interactions aboard, even down to the calm acceptance of on board pregnancy - an adult theme incidentally completely excised in the American version. In such an hospitable environment, even the mad can be talked round without violence, as in the case of Michael (Otto Lackovic) who, affected by radiation and in a disastrous manoeuvre, wants to turn the ship back to Earth. That the only real threat the crew face is an external one is significant, and also primes the dramatic moment that begins the narrative. A flash-forward to when (infected by the same source, as we learn later), one of the crew is wandering, bewildered and aggressive, through the ship. "Earth is gone," he says. "Earth never existed." But he's not beyond help from his peers. Here the deluded or mad in space are not assumed lost, such as we might see in such recent American films as Event Horizon, but taken back and with promise of cure at that.

Critics have contrasted these shipboard mores to the signs of capitalist degeneracy confronting those who board the 'Tornado', the derelict space station from 1987 unexpectedly encountered en route. Here, amidst the dark clutter of its interior, are found signs of gambling and money, coded elements of capitalist speculation, just as fatal as the death gas and nuclear warheads also there. For those who explore it, the Tornado reflects a place thought left behind, both geographically and politically. "We have discovered the 20th century," says one dismayed crewman. The determined self destruction encountered by those who board the derelict recalls one of TV's original Star Trek shows, and those found died as result of a selfish fight for survival. The signs of a corrupt political system fall exposed with as much horror as does (in a notable moment) the skin off the Tornado captain's face.

This, and then the debilitating effects of rays that emanate from a hitherto unknown black star are the two principal threats facing the crew. How they finally overcome this last hurdle is part of the end of the quest. Without giving too much away, it is sufficient to say that the close of the film, the ship's long anticipated arrival at Alpha Centauri's 'white planet', brings a sequence both uplifting and brief, carrying over the theme of mutually beneficial cooperation. But viewers today may find less interest in the ending than the scenes that have preceded it. It's the Ikarie crew's social or dutiful pairings, even to the point of bringing each other flowers, or taking showers together, which lay at the heart of the film, rather than any encounter of a new civilisation and the socialist message entailed. Whilst in basic narrative terms the 'white planet' brings closure, our attentions have for long been focused elsewhere, in scenes such as the notable dance sequence. Through the hypnotic rhythms of Zdenek Liska's striking score, the astronauts take part in something akin to a weird 22nd century disco, their slow somnambulistic movements reassuring while also slightly disturbing. Reassuring, as we can see the crew reacting together as one social unit, even after the inevitable trials of months in space; disturbing because it is all so emotionless and controlled. Such ambiguous group occasions beg questions we really want answered. Are they really happy? Or does the Earth we thought we recognised in them no longer exist?

The Czech originated disc I have seen offers a splendid widescreen transfer of the movie with English subtitles. Most of the extras are unfortunately not subtitled, but there's a chance to see some sample scenes from the American International version, to give an idea of how the original was changed as well as a stills gallery.

Ikarie XB1 is the first Czech SF movie. It was released in black and white only. The story relies to some extent on one of Stanislav Lem's books. The movie is still appreciated not only among science fiction fans in Czechia, but mainly because of its high ambitions. The movie not only shows a trip to proxima centauri, but it also tried to predict future music and dance.

Due to the time it was created (early 60ies) there are some ideological compromises to the communism and cold war.

Somewhere between the Outer Limits and Star Trek lies this little science fiction gem from the former Czechoslovakia. This isn't I. Robot or that type of science fiction, which is Asimov wrapped up in a shiny steel and glass box. This is the actual story and not just the wrapping paper. It proudly carries on the tradition started by Forbidden Planet and This Island Earth, even though its not as exciting. It is actually more like the Magnetic Monster and the Outer Limits. This is science fiction done in crisp black and white. The screen may not be vivid, yet the special effects have an ethereally surreal quality. Mix that in with the futuristic Shostakovitch-like score and we have a compelling and eerie trip into the unknown.

The excitement and glory that comes from living and exploring space (Star Trek, Star Wars, etc.) is minimized in the movie. We get the basic day to day activities of the crew of the Ikarie, on its 28 month (15 years pass back on Earth) mission to our closest solar system, Alpha Centauri. We also get the dangers and rewards of hurling ourselves into the vast darkness.

It is the 22nd Century and we are out in the galaxy searching for life. The crew is comprised from a co-ed international pool. We never get to see Earth, yet we get a glimpse of what humans are like from the interactions of the crew (work, entertainment, nutritional intervals, exercise, reproduction and crisis). This is a future full of video screens, blasters, personal transmitters, turbo lifts, artificial gravity, Beatnik-like futuristic dancing and even Nike light up magnetic boots. This is the perfect/classical example of the sci-fi antithesis to Idiocracy. Humanity will improve with time.

The future is bright, shiny and worth waiting for. Man fixes the malaise of his species. We are never shown anything more lethal than a hand blaster, when it comes to weapons. On their mission, they encounter a perfectly preserved space relic from an Earth expedition of the 20th century. Let's just say our predecessors had very little nice things to say about us. Let's not forget that the 20th century contained two world wars, numerous genocides, the birth and use of the the atomic bomb.

One would also assume that a movie made in a Soviet influenced country would contain a certain amount of Communist and Pro-Soviet propaganda (for example, Planeta Bura). Thankfully this is all missing. About the biggest commentary comes from the critique of our 20th century counterparts. I found the only anti-capitalist message in the writing on the Earth relic. Everything inside is written in English, the ship was fully loaded with nuclear warheads and the the crew turned on each other. And even this critique is more of a jab at our collective selves then at full fledged opposition to capitalism.

If you are looking for epic space battles for the fate of the universe, look elsewhere because the crew kills absolutely no living thing. If you want 90 minutes of Georges Méliès mixed with Jules Verne, then you have found the perfect movie. I can easily see this movie as an influence on Kubrick's 2001, Rodenberry's Star Trek, Lucas' Star Wars and even Irwin Allen's Lost in Space. We even have a robot. He's definitely not as cool nor as good as Robby the Robot nor the robot that constantly saves the Robinsons.

We named him Patrick. Patrick the Robot. RIP. (Pour out some alcohol for the robots that aren't with us anymore).

-Celluloid Rehab