2001: A Space Odyssey

Yes, I've finally seen Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). It's a film I've been putting off for ages, and finally had time in between finals and work to do so today. After all, I've never been a huge fan of Kubrick, though some of his films (Spartacus, Dr. Strangelove, Full Metal Jacket) are high on my list. Certainly my experience with his later "big" films has been mixed, with the interesting but obnoxious and muddled A Clockwork Orange and the painfully tedious Barry Lyndon, and given what I've read, seen and heard about this film I wasn't sure it would be my cup of tea. So, how did I react to Kubrick's film, widely lauded today as a cinematic masterpiece of cinematic masterpieces?

Well, my reaction was decidedly mixed. The film is certainly worth a look; it's a technical masterpiece for certain, and must be seen by any film buff for that reason alone. Put succinctly, it's just a fascinating film to behold and take in. However, if you're looking simply for a film that will entertain you in the traditional sense, you're advised to stay away. If it's the mark of a great film that can't be easily digested, and that it leaves you thinking (regardless of how you think about it), then 2001 is definitely a great film. But is it an enjoyable one? That's a harder question to answer.

The film's story is divided into four distinct segments. The Dawn of Man shows a tribe of primitive Ape-Men as they first encounter the Monolith - a huge black rectangular object - and slowly begin to evolve. Then we cut to the distant future, as humanity has explored much of space and is attempting to locate intelligent life. Dr. Heywood Floyd (William Sylvester) is called to investigate the discovery of a Monolith on the Moon. Eighteen months later, a small team of astronauts - including David Bowman (Keir Dullea) and Frank Poole (Gary Lockwood) - are sent to Jupiter to locate a similar structure, but soon find their supposedly-foolproof computer HAL (voice of Douglas Rain) malfunctioning with deadly results. In the final segment, Jupiter and Beyond the Infinite, Bowman encounters the effects of the monolith, is transported through a hallucinatory "stargate" - and, in effect, realizes the next stage of human evolution.

The movie has the faintest strand of a narrative plot, only a handful of recognizable characters and a cast of no-name actors. For these reasons, on the conventional level of entertainment it's largely a failure; only the primary sequence with HAL has much in the way of traditional characterization or conflict. This is largely deliberate on Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke's part; the point is that humanity in its current state is sublimated, minimized and dwarfed by the vastness of the Universe and, ironically, by his own technology. Authorial intent is all well and good, but that hardly precludes a viewer, philistine or snob, from being unsatisfied with or frustrated by it.

The movie seems to present a message on the evolution and development of humanity, but does so in a most elliptical fashion. Kubrick shows primitive man learning how to use tools (presumably through inspiration of the Monolith) and then immediately developing into carnivores and waging war with another tribe. We have a hint of the still-pertinent Cold War when Dr. Floyd is confronted by a group of inquistive Russian scientists, but that's about the extent that events on Earth enter into the equation. This all fits very well into Kubrick's cynical and often acidic view of humanity; if HAL is the ultimate result of human technology, it's only natural that he's a killer, and progress simply means more weapons - "the more advanced war becomes, the more fascinating we find it." However, the film addresses this issue in a rather oblique way, choosing to focus on humanity's first contact with extraterrestrials, never seen except through the ever-present Monoliths, as the first step in evolving to a truly higher being, beyond even Nietzsche's contemplation - to achieve a purpose higher than killing other humans.

As mentioned above, however, none of the characters are developed beyond ciphers, and Kubrick maintains an aesthetic distance from his human subjects, using (until the very end) almost no close-ups or even medium shots, even in lengthy dialogue scenes. The only real attempts to humanize the characters come in oblique ways - Dr. Floyd's conversation with his daughter, Frank watching a recorded birthday message from his parents. If anything, HAL is the most human character in the film, and watching his slow "death" scene at the hands of Bowman is genuinely moving. If we're meant to mediate on the smallness of Man's place in the Universe, this is a fair depiction; but then, why the focus on the history of humanity? Are we intelligent creatures capable of shaping our own destiny, or merely pawns in a celestial game, our fates in the hands of an unseen alien intelligence (as implied by the Monolith and certainly by the conclusion)? Presumably, the film's surreal conclusion is meant to provide us with hope for the future of Man, but from what little we've seen of him, the method of evolution shown seems the ultimate deus ex machina.

However, its lack of strong narrative and perhaps garbled message aside, 2001 is undoubtedly an impressive achievement on a technical level. And unlike Barry Lyndon, which looked pretty but ended up as a bore, the film is driven and redeemed by its look, sound and feel. The movie makes ingenious use of green screen, matte paintings and miniatures, and the special effects are simply awe-inspiring; they've hardly dated a bit in the last forty years. One doesn't mind the lengthy scenes of planets in orbit or of space shuttles docking and landing because it's just so beautifully, perfectly done. Beautifully created star patterns and nebulae explode across the screen (including the simulation of a fetus shortly before the trip through the stargate), each more dazzling than the last. Even the spacious, futuristic interiors (which Kubrick would later expand on in A Clockwork Orange) have a strange, eerie and alien beauty to them. Kubrick's use of soundscape is similarly brilliant, using Thus Spake Zarathustra and The Blue Danube as recurring leitmotifs to show humanity's growing sense of discovery and the majesty of space, as well as an eerie mixture of electronic and choral music for the encounters with the Monoliths. The cumulative effect is one of utter awe; this is truly a spell-binding, overwhelming film on this level, and one is so seduced and absorbed by it that the film's shortcomings are mostly overcome.

In all, my feelings towards 2001: A Space Odyssey are mixed. I'm giving it a high rating because I found it interesting, perhaps even fascinating, and think it is simply on its own plane as a technical work of art. But on the other hand, it's a film that left me cold, left me with more questions than answers. That is perhaps the work of a great artist, but it makes for frustrating viewing, and certainly a frustrated critical analysis. I might need to see it again to fully "get it", but I'm not sure how eager I am to do so. After watching this and reading lots of George Bernard Shaw for class, I'm ready for a big dumb meaty action film to sink my philistine teeth into.

Rating: 8/10 - Highly Recommended (but mostly for the technical aspects)