Pinocchio in Outer Space (1965) – Review

Some movies defy expectations, and then some movies defy basic comprehension. Pinocchio in Outer Space falls squarely into the latter category. This baffling Belgian-American animated sci-fi morality tale asks, “What if Carlo Collodi’s wooden boy tangled with giant alien crabs on Mars?”

Strap in, kids (and deeply confused adults), because Pinocchio in Outer Space is less of a movie and more of a fever dream shot into the cosmos on a rocket fueled by ’60s optimism and pure narrative chaos. This Belgian-American animated oddity takes Carlo Collodi’s classic wooden boy and hurls him through the stratosphere in a cosmic coming-of-age tale featuring space whales, a cranky turtle, and desolate Martian cities. Off the hop, we get this delightfully useful piece of narration, “The adventure you are about to see is based on a true portrayal of outer space, and could actually happen, to a puppet come alive.”

 

“What, they’re upgrading us to sci-fi now?”

Our story begins with the world’s most beloved former puppet, Pinocchio (Peter Lazer), now a real boy… but not for long. See, Pinocchio has backslid on his promise to “always be good,” and kindly Geppetto (Ray Owens) is beside himself as to what to do. Enter the Blue Fairy (Mavis Mims), who has apparently upgraded her fairy license to intergalactic probation officer, and punishes him by turning him back into wood. Bummer. But Pinocchio isn’t giving up that easily. He wants redemption, and what better way to prove he’s a hero than to save the Earth from a rampaging, satellite-destroying space whale named Astro?

 

Yes, a flying space whale. Don’t question it.

When a news broadcast states that there is a “handsome reward” for the capture of the creature, Pinocchio latches onto the idea of going off into space, catching the big space whale so that he’d win the reward, and they wouldn’t be poor anymore. “And I’d prove myself worthy, and the Blue Fairy would turn me into a real boy again.” Yeah, sounds like an excellent plan. Unfortunately, on the way to school, he runs afoul of the Fox and Cat from the original tale – now named Sharp (Conrad Jameson) and Groovy (Jess Cain) for some reason – and when they learn Pinocchio wants to catch Astro, they run a con suggesting that hypnotism could be the secret to defeating the space whale.

 

“Don’t let logic or book learning stand in your way!”

Enter Nurtle the Twurtle (Arnold Stang), a green alien turtle who rocks an aviator’s cap, arrives on a spaceship that looks like it was made by one of Santa’s elves, and has the dry wit of a weary substitute teacher. Nurtle’s mission was to investigate stories of a highly advanced civilization on Mars – the detection of radiation in the area supports this theory – but he landed on Earth due to his poor map-reading skills. Pinocchio warns Nurtle of the rogue space whale, and with the claim that he can hypnotize Astro, he is welcomed aboard Nurtle’s ship.

 

“Do you have strings to hold you down?”

At first, Mars seems to be a lifeless planet, endless tracts of sand, but the sight of a distant city gives them hope, and the two decide to check it out, that is, after rescuing their ship from a trio of gigantic Martian crabs who thought it looked like a nice snack. Sadly, when they eventually make it to the Martian city, they find it to be deserted, a collection of ruins that look to have been destroyed by a large space whale. Could the giant crabs and a giant whale have a common ancestry? Turns out the Martians had used radiation to mutate a variety of animals to turn them into giant biological weapons, which, of course, eventually bit them in the ass.

 

Martians developed their own kaiju, who knew?

The two flee from an assortment of these giant beasties, while also discovering the canal where Astro was created, but then they have to escape the underground catacombs as it begins to shake apart. It seems that a massive sandstorm has begun to sweep across the planet, and as it enters the city’s nuclear reactors, the whole place starts to come down around our hero’s ears. Luckily, their ship isn’t totally buried by the sands, and they lift off just in time to see the city detonate with a huge atomic mushroom cloud.

 

This is pretty dark for a kids’ movie.

Unfortunately, they almost immediately run into Astro, and Pinocchio once again finds himself in the belly of a whale, because this film is both a sequel and a remake of the original tale. But, fear not, kiddies. The Blue Fairy finally decides to make an appearance, and even though Pinocchio disobeyed his father, consorted with criminals, and lied his little wooden ass off, she gives him a little “hint” as to how to escape their current predicament. Yeah, they fly out Astro’s blowhole as if that wasn’t the most obvious escape route. This leads to a rousing battle between our heroes and the rogue space whale, using bravery, brains, and, surprise, surprise, a little bit of hypnotism.

 

“I think he’s right behind us.”

While Pinocchio’s attempts at hypnotism fail at first, a damaged fin on Nurtle’s ship causes the craft to spin in such a way as to mesmerize the big beast and become a puppet on a string, but the day isn’t quite saved yet. Astro’s route to Earth is too direct, and they will burn up in the planet’s atmosphere, so Pinocchio exits the ship to hook onto Astro’s “jet propulsion” spout to alter their course and save their lives. Sadly, this results in the little wooden boy being bathed in flames and dying. Needless to say, the Blue Fairy arrives, and Pinocchio earns back his human status.

 

“We’re just going to repeat the ending of the original, is that it?”

Stray Observations:

• A marine biologist theorizes that “A rare mutation, the kind that resulted in flying ants, flying squirrels and flying fish, may be responsible for the evolution of a flying whale.” Sure, that makes sense, but how about its ability to survive in space and develop rocket propulsion?
• Nurtle the Twurtle was voiced by actor Arnold Stang, who bad movie lovers may recognize as Arnold Swartzenegger’s co-star in Hercules in New York.
• Geppetto gets abducted by the plot and never returns. He’s barely in the movie. Pinocchio goes to space to prove he’s brave and honest… not to save Geppetto. Priorities.
• Pinocchio’s nose still grows when he lies, but also shrinks when he tells the truth, another added ability for this movie.
• Pinocchio and Nurtle find an underground city, one that is very reminiscent of the Krell city in the film Forbidden Planet.

 

“Keep an eye out for Id monsters, Pinocchio.”

Directed by Ray Goossens, Pinocchio in Outer Space is a 1965 offering that delivers a truly eclectic visual style. Imagine mid-century European animation colliding with Hanna-Barbera on a sugar high. There’s a weird charm to the stilted movements and odd colour palette, like a space-themed picture book brought to life with just enough LSD to confuse the kids and mildly alarm their parents. The character designs vacillate between cute and uncanny, with that classic ’60s European animation style that seems designed to make kids mildly uncomfortable. Voice acting varies from earnestly wooden (yes, again, appropriate) to melodramatic Saturday morning cartoon. The moral lessons are still there; don’t lie, be brave, help others, but they’re sandwiched between surreal alien encounters and intergalactic PSA-worthy messaging.

 

Pinocchio definitely has a dark side.

Pinocchio’s journey in this film is technically still about being brave and good, but that message is now filtered through alien landscapes, giant mutated monsters, and extended space sequences that feel like they’re one synthesizer track away from 2001: A Space Odyssey. It’s like Educational Filmstrip Theatre meets Plan 9 from Outer Space, but for children. Tonally, it’s a cosmic blender of child-friendly adventure, Cold War paranoia, and philosophical oddities. Pinocchio is still trying to be a “real boy,” but now he’s doing so while fleeing exploding nuclear reactors and pondering the ethics of space crab extermination. The moralizing is ever-present but hilariously shoehorned in. Your nose may grow if you lie, but you’ll really get in trouble if you mess with intergalactic crustaceans.

 

Avoiding intergalactic crustaceans is a lesson we all should learn.

Pinocchio remains the moral centre of the film, though his journey here is less about resisting temptation and more about gaining empathy and bravery. His character arc, though rushed, mirrors the themes of the original story, just filtered through a Jetsons-like lens. However, it’s Nurtle the Turtle who steals the show. Voiced with rapid-fire wit and no small dose of sarcasm, Nurtle provides the film’s comic relief and its scientific credibility. He’s a clear nod to the talking animal sidekicks of Disney fare, but has more in common with the fast-talking salesmen of 1960s American television. He’s easily the most memorable character and provides a much-needed anchor for the film’s otherwise scattered tone.

 

“I’m more effective than any cricket.”

And then there’s Astro. This isn’t Monstro from the Disney classic; this is a full-on nightmare beast from a sci-fi horror movie, complete with gaping jaws and cosmic mind control powers. He is a delightfully absurd antagonist. The idea of a gigantic, planet-destroying whale floating through the void of space is so wonderfully ridiculous that it becomes iconic in its own right. The creature embodies the “atomic age menace” trope common in 1950s monster movies, but with a fairy tale twist. The desolate Martian landscape also brings that “atomic age” feel to the forefront, with its destroyed city giving us a look at a possible future Earth.

 

Post-apocalyptic Earth, anyone?

Is it good? Maybe if you squint. Is it entertaining? In the way that watching a marionette puppet try to explain orbital mechanics is entertaining, absolutely. The movie is short, strange, and wildly inconsistent, but that’s part of its appeal. It’s got that special kind of vintage nonsense that makes you wonder what the writers were smoking (and where you can get some). Yet, it’s somehow earnest, like it genuinely believes that putting Pinocchio in a rocket ship is a natural extension of Carlo Collodi’s beloved 19th-century fable.

 

When Fantasy and Science Fiction collide. 

Ultimately, Pinocchio in Outer Space is a bizarre artifact from a time when animation was still willing to take absolutely unhinged risks. It’s not a classic by any metric, but it’s a cosmic curiosity worth witnessing if only to confirm that yes, this really exists. It’s baffling, bonkers, and kind of beautiful in its own off-kilter way. Definitely not “good” in the traditional sense, but oh boy, is it an experience.