PLANET OF STORMS: Science Fiction About the Soviet Nation’s Conquest of Venus

With the perspective of time, it can be said that geographic achievements and the conquest of space, rather than nuclear war, were the goals of the two greatest superpowers of the Cold War. From a propaganda standpoint, this approach was much more advantageous—after all, who would listen if Earth had been turned to ash by nuclear bombs? During the 1950s and 1960s, both the USA and the USSR sought to use film to glorify their achievements and national pride. It was a time when science fiction was still somewhat inaccessible, often resulting in cinematic monstrosities—but not always. “Planet of Storms” (1962), directed by Pavel Klushantsev, is an example of a visually bold film, especially for Europe and under communism, which paradoxically, is now more enjoyable to watch than many American productions about alien invasions or oversized spiders. And when it comes to the propaganda hidden in science fiction, it’s not as overbearing as one might expect in terms of pathos and audience fatigue. Across the ocean, similarly pretentious techniques were used—and still are.

“Planet of Storms” is a story set in a Soviet reality, where there’s no mention of the rest of the world outside the USSR, or if there is, it’s indirect. The Soviets have reached such a level of advancement that, for the glory of the nation (a point emphasized many times in the film), they decided to explore Venus. They sent an entire scientific expedition consisting of three spaceships with graceful names: “Sirius”, “Vega”, and “Capella”. These ships traveled nearly 200 million kilometers to reach the orbit of the Morning Star. Unfortunately, one of them—”Capella”—is destroyed, complicating the mission’s plans. However, such a detail can’t stop the Soviet cosmonauts. As the narrator, almost like Big Brother, points out, the crew is in perfect physical and mental health. They are capable of facing the toughest challenges, even if they are not all-knowing. For making strictly rational decisions, they have a special robot on board with an odd name for the communist context—John. This suggests the robot is of foreign origin, and its appearance seems like a distant nod to “Forbidden Planet” and its robot, Robby. Director Pavel Klushantsev was well aware of the trends in science fiction cinema of his time. He created a film thematically similar to American productions, while also referencing Soviet efforts to explore Venus, which were still unsuccessful at the time of the film’s release. On February 12, 1962, a year had passed since the launch of the “Venera 1” probe, which lost contact seven days after takeoff. Meanwhile, the Americans succeeded in 1962 with their “Mariner 2” mission. The Soviets had to wait until March 1966 for “Venera 3” to enter Venus’s atmosphere, although it transmitted no data. It wasn’t until “Venera 4” in 1976 that successful transmission occurred. So, in the early 1960s, the Soviet nation was fantasizing heavily about Venus, which was reflected in “Planet of Storms”.

These fantasies, however, were very earthly. The explorers who arrived on Venus found a primeval planet, resembling Earth millions of years ago, with dangerous plants, swamps, giant reptiles, volcanoes, a developed underwater ecosystem, and traces of mysterious intelligent life. All of this provided the director with an opportunity to ask the question: Where do we, the people of Earth, come from, and what does our future look like? Ideally, the future would be Soviet, but that’s not a requirement. After all, the Soviets are operating on Venus in the interest of the entire human race. The film’s message, while propagandistic and glorifying the USSR, is transnational—assuming, of course, it doesn’t matter who carries the banner of progress. Someone has to, though, because everyone can’t do it at once. Therefore, I wouldn’t stigmatize “Planet of Storms” as merely cinema serving a single ideology, because American films of that era were similarly loaded. True, there may not have been moments where the voices overseeing the mission from Earth sounded like an almighty God, issuing ideological commands. But the special effects, cinematography, and even the unexpected twist in the ending deserve appreciation. I didn’t expect it to be so cleverly allegorical on one hand and, on the other—let’s just say—not entirely aligned with the Soviet national mission. Not everything went smoothly. They lost one ship. They didn’t establish contact, even though they were so close. However, they gathered samples and filmed some footage. If they manage to return to Earth, which is depicted at one point as a classic socialist rally, everyone will learn that Venus might be a good candidate for colonization. And of course, the USSR is capable of achieving this, just like the Americans.

In the end, I wonder what could have been improved in “Planet of Storms”? Not the acting, not the special effects, and not even the editing, but that element of film production that impacts the emotional reception of scenes—the music. Sci-fi cinema really doesn’t need marches and patriotic songs. Also, the design of the astronauts’ uniforms could be updated so that they don’t so strongly resemble the working class signing in for a shift at a brick factory.