Fantastic Voyage is an inspired melding of science and imagination.

Here you have a true science-fiction classic, the first film to take viewers inside the human body. Yes, by today's standards the special effects are cheesy, with the use of green screens blatantly obvious more than a few times, and many may find the idea of miniaturizing a manned submarine to the microscopic level and injecting it into a human body laughable, but this was the mid-1960s, man. We were eradicating virulent diseases, were making gigantic computers that could make complex calculations quickly, had shot men into space -- heck, we were working to put man on the moon.

Science fiction really mattered back then -- it still matters today, but not like it did back then, when the futuristic imaginings of Asimov, Clarke, Heinlein and others were providing the blueprints and inspiration of the scientific facts of tomorrow. Anything and everything suddenly seemed possible, so why not miniaturization?

So here's the deal. Both the U.S. and the Russkies have miniaturization technology -- but neither can extend the period of miniaturization past one hour. One scientist -- Jan Benes -- knows how to do it. The Soviets want him, but we just rescued him and got him to America. Unfortunately, the bad guys managed to injure him before he could talk. Now he lies in a coma, an inoperable blood clot deep within his brain.

Clearly, there's only one thing to do: put the country's best brain surgeon in a nuclear-powered submarine, shrink it to microscopic proportions, and inject it into Benes' bloodstream so the doctor can perform the necessary laser surgery from within. Most fortunately for at least half of the viewing population, Dr. Duval (Arthur Kennedy) insists on bringing his assistant Cora (Raquel Welch) along. Dr. Michaels (Donald Pleasance), the nominal head of the whole operation, is also there to help guide the captain through the various bodily systems on the way to the brain, as is security expert Grant (Stephen Boyd) because no one can be trusted implicitly during the Cold War.

Thanks to a series of unexpected problems during this fantastic voyage, the special effects and visual arts departments faced the daunting task of visually representing numerous aspects of the human body's most amazing processes -- the makeup of the circulatory, limbic and nervous systems; the rhythmic wonders of the human heart and lungs; the martial prowess of antibodies and white blood cells attacking foreign bodies with Borg-like precision; and the wonders of the unknown universe that is the human mind. The film's Oscar awards for Best Visual Effects and Best Art Direction were well-earned, no matter how cheesy it all looks today.

For some reason, though, the image that sticks out the most in my mind is that of Grant and the two doctors groping Raquel Welch's chest for the better part of a minute during one of the film's pivotal scenes. Well, that and the scissors thing.

No matter how many decades pass, this film will always stand as a glowing example of the power of man's imagination and the infinite wonders and possibilities of science. And who's to say the "preposterous" science of this story couldn't come true someday -- if mankind ever stops devoting all of his resources to fighting and killing and once again looks to science for ways to actually improve the human condition.