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| Courtesy of Warner Bros. |
This week’s entry allows me to fill a major gap in my viewing history: Stanley Kubrick’s masterpiece 2001: A Space Odyssey. Widely considered one of the greatest films ever made, I somehow managed to avoid seeing it until a couple of weeks ago. As a critic and film teacher, I’m probably supposed to say that with shame or not admit it at all.
We’re often conditioned to treat the missing pieces of a person’s film experience with contempt or embarrassment. “You’ve never seen [insert name of important movie here]?” some will say, usually with an exasperated sigh and mouth agape. “How can you call yourself a movie fan?”
The answer is simple: there are a million films out there and only so many free hours in the day. It’s literally impossible to see everything, even the classics. I do my best to tackle as many as I can, knowing I’m attempting a herculean, ultimately impossible task.
That’s why, when someone comes up to me with a sheepish grin and mumbles that they’ve never seen Casablanca, Psycho, or another one of my old favorites, I always respond with the same answer. I tell them they’re not alone (“Can you believe I didn’t see ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ until a few years ago? And movies are my job!”) and that I’m jealous – they get to experience something incredible for the first time.
For that reason, I’m sort of glad I managed to make it nearly four decades without seeing 2001. If I’d watched it beforehand, it would’ve been on a television screen or, even worse, a laptop in an office somewhere – not exactly the optimal viewing conditions for a film of this size and scope.
Instead, I was blindsided by the news that Kubrick’s film was heading back to IMAX theaters for a limited one-week engagement to celebrate its 50th anniversary. I jumped at the rare chance and headed to the multiplex. Initially, the exorbitant ticket price annoyed me.
But as the lights went down in the theater, I realized what an amazing opportunity it was. There was literally no one else in the massive auditorium. I was getting a private screening of 2001 on a giant screen with booming sound. It couldn’t have gone better if I’d planned it.
A big reason I put off watching the film for so long is that I’d frequently heard the visuals were incredible, but the narrative (a screenplay co-written by Kubrick and novelist Arthur C. Clarke) was confusing and emotionally sterile. For far too long, I thought of it as homework, which couldn’t have been further from the truth.
I was pleasantly surprised to learn the plot isn’t nearly as incoherent as I feared. Granted, it’s sparse and it doesn’t hold your hand. But when you view the narrative as secondary to the sheer spectacle, the film makes a lot more sense. Sometimes we get so caught up with story that we forget it’s okay to put visuals and sound first.
2001 begins at the dawn of man, when apelike creatures are driven from their water source by a rival tribe. The next morning, they’re shocked to discover a giant black monolith has appeared out of nowhere. The film strongly suggests the monolith guides the creatures to the next stage of evolution, in which they learn to use bones as weapons and tools.
Millions of years later, scientists discover a similar monolith buried on the moon. When it’s uncovered enough for sunlight to strike it, an ear-splitting shriek wrecks everyone in the vicinity (especially in IMAX – holy cow). Jump forward 18 months, where astronauts Dave Bowman (Keir Dullea) and Frank Poole (Gary Lockwood) are headed to Jupiter on Discovery One with the help of HAL, the spacecraft’s onboard computer (voiced by Douglas Rain).
What happens after that is widely known thanks to countless pop culture references and the astonishing number of other films Kubrick’s monumental vision went on to influence. The ending is one of the most famous examples of a narrative being incoherent or open to interpretation, depending on how you approach it.
Now that 2001 has lived in my head for a couple of weeks, I can totally understand why it leaves some people cold – probably because they didn’t see it on the big screen. I imagine it’s a completely different experience than my immersive IMAX viewing. When the screen swallows you, it’s much easier to get caught up in the majesty. That also goes a long way toward addressing the complaint that the narrative is emotionally distant.
So much of the film’s two-and-a-half-hour running time is devoted to sheer spectacle (those space ballets! the Star Gate sequence!) that it’s no wonder 2001 developed a cult following with hippies who went to see it under the influence of mind-altering substances. I saw it stone cold sober and still felt like someone had slipped me something. I can’t imagine what it would be like watching it with chemical enhancement.
Kubrick and his immensely talented crew work a series of cinematic miracles. Not only does he create a realistic version of prehistoric times and intergalactic space travel, he does it in a way so technologically advanced that the film frequently predicts the future. (For example, pay close attention to those personalized screens Dave and Frank use on Discovery One. They sure do look a lot like iPads.)
He also crafts mind-blowing special effects and makes it seem effortless, decades before green screen and CGI became the norm. It genuinely feels like the movie was filmed in space, rather than shot using meticulously constructed models, sets and practical, in-camera tricks.
2001: A Space Odyssey is a film to be experienced rather than watched. Granted, I don’t know when we’ll get another opportunity to see it on the big screen. But when that chance comes, jump at it – don’t hesitate. It’s an encounter I’ll remember for the rest of my life. I’m so glad I didn’t pass it up. In the meantime, I strongly recommend purchasing the new 50th anniversary Blu-ray, which hits stores on October 30. If you can’t see it in a theater, it’s the next best option.
2001: A Space Odyssey is rated G.
Grade: A+
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