2001: A Space Odyssey (Keir Dullea, William Sylvester)
On the final day of 2001, it seems only appropriate to reflect on the picture that many critics have been waiting to see re-released and restored in theatres since 1968. 2001: A Space Odyssey is the classic sci-fi hit based on Arthur C. Clarke's story "The Sentinel". Shrouded in mystery during its making, it was received with mixed interpretations when it first premiered. Some found it vague and meaningless; others were shocked and inspired, as it influenced a whole new generation of filmmakers.
A movie like 2001 shouldn't really be reviewed, because that could imply some kind of comparison between it and any other film that has come before or after it was released. It exists separate from the works of Alain Resnais, Luis Bunuel, Federico Fellini, and even director Stanley Kubrick's other material. It has remained a benchmark of cinema not because of critical acclaim, box office success or its dazzling special effects, but because it is a philosophical piece that invites thought, contemplation, and even offers carefully-timed sequences within the picture itself for the viewer to do this reflecting.
Few examples are as blatant as an extended sequence about 20 minutes into the film. It is a slow, meticulous, and majestic re-enactment of a space ship preparing to dock, set to Johann Strauss's the Blue Danube. Visually, there is lots to admire -- Kubrick's intention here is to demonstrate the precision and skill that humanity has achieved over thousands of years. He makes the scene methodical, sterile and large in scope, and lets it fill our senses before he proceeds to the next segment.
The previous 19 minutes, where several apes are seen making the mental and social connections necessary to evolve rudimentary skills (territorial conflict, the use of a bone as a weapon), are without dialogue or character to speak of. Kubrick is able to accomplish a rare feat in this scene -- he symbolizes man as a species. It is here, as man makes the critical decision to begin using tools, that a black monolith appears.
The meaning of the monolith has triggered dozens of theories and explanations. I tend to believe it appears at those crucial moments when man, as a species, is about to take a vital step forward on an evolutionary scale. The next monolith is seen millions of years later by astronauts on the surface of the moon; the fact that man has come across it is proof he has conquered space travel. The monolith emits a signal that is traced to a point past Jupiter. A crew is assembled to explore.
The space ship Discovery is an invention all its own -- it is piloted and controlled exclusively by the infallible HAL 9000 computer. As voiced by Canada's Douglas Rain, it is HAL, not the humans onboard, that provides most of the emotional depth of the story. Presented as merely an ominous red light, HAL is a tirelessly inquisitive creation. He fights for his life by overriding his programming when he suspects his presence may be expendable. Will man's technology beat him at his own game? The cat and mouse scenario Kubrick establishes is as scientifically accurate as it is exciting to watch.
The final portion of the film is both the least definable and the most awesome. Keir Dullea plays Dave Bowman, the astronaut who encounters the monolith beyond Jupiter that is receiving the signal. He is transported from his shuttle by the aliens (never actually seen in the movie) to another plain of existence. It is here that Dave lives out the rest of what appears to be a non-linear life, and then evolves into a "star child", orbiting the Earth's atmosphere.
I first saw 2001 in 1998 and immediately afterwards I discussed it, pondered it, and read about it. I even wrote a makeshift review, although I can't find it now for the life of me. Only now have I seen it for the second time, and this repeat viewing has solidified it as one of my favourites of all time. It is a marvel of filmmaking on so many levels. For example, when Frank and Dave (the astronauts) are outside the space ship, only their breathing can be heard, nothing else. Since sound does not travel in space, Kubrick is one of a very small number of directors to implement this often overlooked fact. Another perfect fit would have to be Richard Strauss's "Thus Spake Zarathustra", which appears three times in the film. Hockey games aside, it has gone on to become a univeral symbol of the greatness that man has the potential to achieve. And Stanley Kubrick's direction is, well, stellar. When I was in grade 8, my family went to Universal Studios. While I hadn't seen the movie yet, now I know how a lot of the shots were accomplished, and it's amazing how well the effects have held up over time. There is lots more to rave about, but I'm sure my partiality to the movie's genius has already been established in this already-lengthy review.
A friend of mine said to me recently, "You know, I've seen 2001 five times now, and I'm still not sure what it's about." I think that's the best description anyone can possibly give. More importantly though, how many movies (let alone books or classes) get us thinking about life, technology, science, evolution, the future, the past, or even our species in general? Indeed, what is 2001 about? It is about what we think it's about.
