My Favorite Movies: 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

2001: A Space Odyssey is just the sort of movie that general audiences can’t stand for one second, while movie snobs spend great quantities of time ranting about how good it is. I guess I was born to be a snob. I still remember the first time I saw this movie. I was very young and had no idea what most of it meant, but I found it genuinely intriguing. It really stuck with me and it is still a movie that I will watch on a regular basis, every year or so.

Having this film on disc is like miraculously having the gift to revisit those dreams that you remember so clearly, but wish you had more time to really figure out. I have seen the movie so many times that I sometimes fall into the temptation of just sinking into it. I more often watch it as a spectacle than as a parable. It is a miraculous achievement because of how strongly it speaks to us, and how different what it has to say has become. Ignoring the intellectual side of the experience is just as bad as avoiding it entirely.

Film director Stanley Kubrick and author Arthur C. Clarke agreed at some point that they needed to collaborate on a project that would highlight both of their strengths, and what better way than with a science fiction story. The original intention was that they would both share in the creating of a book and movie of the same story. Both names still appear on the film credits as authors of the screenplay, but the book is simply Clarke’s, in the same way that the movie is entirely Kubrick’s.

I believe the title was selected to impose a familiarity with Homer’s The Odyssey. This odyssey is just as profound as the classic, just this time in the exploration of outer space and its limits, as well as a study of the great conflicts of humanity. The film is divided into four separate segments that are just as important as a whole as they are individually.

The first section is titled “The Dawn of Man.” It is the part of the film most commonly referred to in complaints that it is boring. The usual argument is that a bunch of monkeys sitting around and screaming for fifteen minutes not only does not make riveting cinema, but is also irrelevant to the rest of the film. If looking at the early scenes on the surface only, I could understand this logic, but this is not a movie that can be watched only on the surface. I disagree with the film’s detractors because this section is vital to the understanding of the rest of the film.

It does not matter whether or not you believe in the theory of evolution, which you shouldn’t because it’s stupid. However, within the reality of the movie, evolution happened. It does so with the assistance of the Monolith, a mysterious, large metal object that seems to silently encourage the pre-human apes to become more violent in their way of living, which provides them with meat and the establishment of authority for the first time.

It is important for the overall effect of the film to see these things occur, as a complete futuristic vision of how far mankind has come. The Monolith is also the most fascinating aspect of the film, as it leaves its three appearances, origins, and purpose a complete secret for the individual interpretation of the viewer. The book, however, is much clearer about the object and its extraterrestrial origin. The book cannot be used as the base for understanding the movie, though, as the two formats are completely different experiences.

What follows is the most incredible sequence in the film, which is what I call “The Dance of the Spaceship.” This segment is a montage of images inside and outside of a traveling spaceship, set to Strauss’ “Blue Danube.” The scenes included here are essentially the film-makers’ way of showing off the amazing special effects they have mastered. A pen floats seamlessly through the air. A woman walks on the ceiling. The spaceship itself seems to really be spinning in space. It is easy to believe that there are truly no strings attached. These scenes also establish the depth of imagination that went into creating this future, which is actually scientifically realistic and not as far-fetched as other science fiction epics.

We also have a clear connection to modern humanity to prove that we are still relatively the same. This is accomplished with two scenes of small talk and a video (“telephone”) conversation between a man and his daughter. This segment also confirms how audiences’ impatience is unduly given. Take the shot of the spaceship being lowered down into the space station. Yes, it is moving slowly, but this is Kubrick’s way of giving his viewers time to take in the world he has created. Notice all the little windows all over the station, inside of which can be scene tiny little people moving about. If all the trouble was gone through to make this simple shot look so realistic, the least we can do is watch and appreciate it.

Next, we have “The Jupiter Mission” which is the only part of the movie to have established main characters, through astronauts David Bowman and Frank Poole. It also has a plot, which begins simply with introductions to these men, their hibernating co-workers, and most importantly, the HAL-9000 computer. This machine is probably one of the greatest villains ever put onto the screen. It is embodied by a small red “eye” and communicates with the deceptively soothing voice of actor Douglas Rain.

HAL is a super-computer with complete control of the ship which has been specially programmed to have human emotions. This helps the two-man crew during their long voyage to have someone to talk to, but eventually leads to the nervous breakdown that could only have occurred to a computer with such a wide range of emotions to deal with.

HAL informs his crew that there will be an equipment malfunction, which does not occur. Since all of the 9000 computers have been completely perfect, the astronauts are not sure how to deal with it. They decide in what they think is secret, to turn HAL off. First, they play it cool and remove the “faulty” equipment. This is a lengthy scene, during which, the only noise that can be heard is the heavy breathing inside the astronaut’s suit. There is then sudden silence. He has been disconnected and is floating off into space. HAL has made his first move. Check.

Of course, the real question here is whether or not HAL is actually at fault. Shouldn’t the men who built the machine be to blame? In their desperate attempts at perfection, they created the monster. Perhaps, in a way, HAL only went rogue because of his programming. It was still basically a perfect machine, which is what made it so much more dangerous.

The final segment, “Jupiter and Beyond the Infinite,” is the most awe-inspiring portion, as well as the most befuddling. It begins with David Bowman, now the only surviving member of the Jupiter mission flying into the “star gate.” The images that unfold were intentionally aimed right at the viewer in order to provide us with a first-hand view of what the man is experiencing. What we see is incredible: explosions of color and waves of light flowing towards us in quick succession and glimpses of the surfaces of alien terrain, which are equally bizarre and stunning. Knowing what I experience watching this scene sober, one wonders what it must be like otherwise!

Ultimately, David arrives at his destination. He winds up inside a stately house and he changes perspective multiple times as he becomes older and older. The final shots of the film show him on his deathbed, reaching out to the Monolith, being transformed into a giant fetus, and hovering in space over Earth. I can only assume that the Monolith has now taken on the form of a divine being, putting into place the cycle of human life. Maturity leads to age. Age leads to understanding. Understanding leads to death. Death leads to life.

Honestly, I don’t actually fully understand what this final scene really means, but that’s the beauty of it. What most people don’t realize is that Kubrick has given us a gift by leaving the specifics to the imagination. Most people don’t like movies that refuse to explicitly explain themselves. It is movies like 2001: A Space Odyssey that enlarge our minds by freeing them of pointless explanations, instead of taking away our freedom of thinking by telling us what to think. That would just make us machines.