FILM REVIEW: 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

Directed by Stanley Kubrick

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Are small-fry like myself qualified to credibly discuss a landmark film such as 2001: A Space Odyssey? I don’t know, but then again, I’m not one who’s too concerned about credentials for a topic such as this. Like Citizen Kane or Star Wars, 2001: A Space Odyssey seems to exist less as a film than a legend. It is one of those films that has left such a mark on the art form that nothing has ever been the same, a mark so colossal that to talk about it on its own merits is a difficult task. Five decades later, that task has only gotten more trying.

I may not have anything new to say, but this is still an event that I can’t hold my tongue on: this year has marked the 50^th anniversary of Kubrick’s magnum opus, and it is proven once more that 2001 has aged remarkably well and has lost none of its power as a pure cinematic experience. It is currently making its rounds around the country in the form of a newly restored 70mm print (it just opened in Tucson this past Friday), and these fresh reels shine a glorious light on what makes 2001 such a great film, without sacrificing any of the film’s integrity.

2001 is not plot-driven by any means, at least not throughout the first third of the film. We first bear witness to mankind’s primitive and Darwinian beginnings, struggling to survive in a harsh barren desert as apes. In one of the greatest match cuts ever, we fast forward some millions of years, where mankind has now mastered the ability of space travel, along with many other technological milestones like voice-recognition technology and video-phone chat (notice that these milestones, once science fiction, is now reality).

Kubrick examines humanity’s achievements with enchanted amazement (I can imagine him watching the premier of 2001 with starry-eyed wonder), but the tone soon shifts to a sort of uncertainty. We are now aboard the Discovery One ship alongside astronauts Dave Bowman (Kier Dullea) and Frank Poole (Gary Lockwood). They are on a mission to Jupiter, for reasons only known by HAL 9000 (voice of Douglas Rain), the error-proof AI console who controls most of the ship’s operations, as well as being somebody to talk to. The mission takes a sour turn when HAL may or may not be responsible for a computer error, something never recorded in the HAL 9000’s track record.

At the core of 2001 is one of the most puzzling mysteries in all of cinema – a simple, towering black monolith.

We first see the black monolith during the Dawn of Man, as discovered by the apes. At first, they are terrified by it, but soon become fascinated by it. Soon thereafter, an ape stumbles across a pile of bones. It briefly recollects the monolith, and then discovers that it can use a bone as a tool. The group of apes soon thrive in the harsh conditions they inhabit. Millions of years later, the monolith becomes the subject of interest in an early mission to the moon (abruptly ended by an excruciating high-pitched radio emission). Subsequently, we are taken to the Jupiter Mission, where Dave discovers that their mission for the monolith has been kept secret “for security reasons”.

And then we travel through “Jupiter and Beyond the Infinite”, a bedazzling psychedelic journey through a great unknown, an unknown so mystifying that it alters Dave’s perception forever – in the last few minutes of 2001, he cautiously enters a simple household as if it were an alien landscape.

It’s been almost 10 years since I first watched 2001 one evening on TCM, to which I absolutely hated it and its gruelingly slow pace (that’s how it felt at the time, anyway). Yet something kept me coming back, and the more I watched it, the more mesmerizing it became. Today, it is not only in my top five favorite films, but I concur that it is one of the greatest achievement in the art of film – in turn, I consider it Kubrick’s greatest accomplishments.

There was no film like 2001 back in ’68, and to tackle such an ambitious project would be nerve-wracking for most, but Kubrick handles the entire production with unbelievable confidence. The entire design was so ahead of its time, and Kubrick knew this, but he never let any single element outshine another – he never dangles shiny toys in front of our faces to distract us from any possible shortcomings. No padding, no pandering, no pretention, just pure perfection.

2001 may be 50 years old, but each time I watch it, it completely floors me in just how well it has aged, and this new print is a great reminder of this. The terrific cinematography and great special effects completely blew me away with the crisp detail that the new print exhibits. It wasn’t until now that I realized 2001 is a great film to just watch – forget about plot, forget about characters, just watch the film and become enchanted by it. This latest watch, I was particularly drawn to the sound design, which I think is the most absorbing quality of the film (the hissing of the oxygen tanks makes for some exceptionally chilling moments).

Kubrick went to his grave with a legacy of some of the most iconic films of their respective genres; The Shining (horror), Dr. Strangelove (political satire), Barry Lyndon (historical), and 2001. With its ambitious scope, terrific production design, and remarkable special effects, perhaps it is the greatest science fiction film of all. As important a film as this is, its emphasis on mystery over answers it is not for everybody. For me, this was once cause of frustration, but I’ve come to realize that this is the point. 2001 is a film that is concerned with the progression of man – without some sort of mystery with answers to pursue, where is mankind left to go?