Klaatu barada nikto
Last night at home I was watching the 1951 version of the science-fiction film The Day the Earth Stood Still, a movie I had first seen at my neighborhood picture show when I was about nine years old. As the space ship landed on a field in Washington D.C., I noticed flashing lights outside my window!
I shuddered; a space-ship had landed in my driveway, just as I am watching this film about an alien landing! Maybe it's the alien Klaatu and his sinister robot. I'm doomed! Or maybe it's a firetruck, or a police wagon. I walked out to my front yard in the driving rain. Nothing of the sort. It was a large flatbed truck, with no visible driver. It just remained parked on the street while the driver was off on some enigmatic neighborhood task.
Somewhat relieved of my intergalactic paranoia, I went back to watching the flick. It remains an intelligent and philosophical and well-acted and directed film, its subtleties certainly more apparent to me now than when I was nine, its plea for universal peace more apt than ever.
Preliminary reviews of the new version opening today and starring Keanu Reaves, replacing the superb Michael Rennie of 1951, are not especially glowing, and most refer to the superior qualities of its antecedent classic, which remains one of the masterpieces of its genre. Still I may go see it just to see what they have done or mis-done. I may even catch it at IMAX on a discount Tuesday. Or I may not.
For now I will recite the most famous words ever uttered by a cinematic alien:
"Klaatu barada nikto!"
I could need them sometime soon.
I shuddered; a space-ship had landed in my driveway, just as I am watching this film about an alien landing! Maybe it's the alien Klaatu and his sinister robot. I'm doomed! Or maybe it's a firetruck, or a police wagon. I walked out to my front yard in the driving rain. Nothing of the sort. It was a large flatbed truck, with no visible driver. It just remained parked on the street while the driver was off on some enigmatic neighborhood task.
Somewhat relieved of my intergalactic paranoia, I went back to watching the flick. It remains an intelligent and philosophical and well-acted and directed film, its subtleties certainly more apparent to me now than when I was nine, its plea for universal peace more apt than ever.
Preliminary reviews of the new version opening today and starring Keanu Reaves, replacing the superb Michael Rennie of 1951, are not especially glowing, and most refer to the superior qualities of its antecedent classic, which remains one of the masterpieces of its genre. Still I may go see it just to see what they have done or mis-done. I may even catch it at IMAX on a discount Tuesday. Or I may not.
For now I will recite the most famous words ever uttered by a cinematic alien:
"Klaatu barada nikto!"
I could need them sometime soon.