Stanley Kubrick – ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’
Following the release of his unanimously acclaimed political satire Dr Strangelove, Stanley Kubrick returned four years later with his biggest production to date, 2001: A Space Odyssey. The movie was no small feat, racking up over $10million in production costs, which, back in 1968, was a considerable amount. Yet, the expenses paid off – Kubrick’s film is a masterpiece in every sense of the word, and it’s hard to imagine the shape of cinema, particularly science fiction, without it.
2001: A Space Odyssey landed during a turning point in human history. Technology was rapidly advancing, traditionalism was slowly shedding its skin, and the space race was in full swing. Thus, Kubrick communicated the growing fears and anxieties surrounding these developments in his film, journeying through the evolution and eventual downfall of mankind. Despite 2001: A Space Odyssey debuting over 50 years ago, it still feels incredibly modern, and the questions it poses remain relevant. Thus, it’s frightening to think about how much scarier the film would have been to audiences upon its release – just one year before humans touched down on the moon.
The film begins with an unforgettable opening sequence depicting a prehistoric tribe of apes interacting with a rival group before rapturous classical music welcomes a giant monolith, captivating the animals. As a symbol of evolution, the monolith signifies the emergence of reasoning and thought, inspiring the apes to no longer act passively. Its presence influences an ape to pick up a bone and smash discarded skulls, and, as the iconic piece ‘Also sprach Zarathustra’ by Richard Strauss plays, the ape introduces a new, conscious stage in the evolution of mankind. Kubrick cleverly allows a bone thrown in the air to morph into the image of a spacecraft, and just like that, millions of years of humanity pass by.
Kubrick takes us on board a futuristic space mission, where scientists Dr Dave Bowman and Dr Frank Poole are inhabiting the Discovery One spacecraft. The mission is largely controlled by an AI assistant named HAL, who possesses an uncannily human personality, icily voiced by Douglas Rain. When a malfunction occurs, and Dave and Frank conspire to disconnect HAL, chaos ensues at the hands of the AI computer. It turns out this piece of technology is capable of evil – the man-made invention backfires on its makers. Kubrick explores the dangers of technological advances through the character of HAL, fears that have never disappeared as AI has become a persistent force in our lives since the release of the film. At the time of the movie’s release, people didn’t know just how far AI would develop, yet Kubrick’s film paints an eerily accurate picture of the medium’s potential to become as powerful as humans.
Much of Kubrick’s film relies on viewer experience and emotion rather than logic and concrete explanation. Although the film is laden with motifs and allegory, this is all hard to grasp within one – or even multiple – viewings. Instead, the intricate and haunting sound design and vivid colour palette evoke strong emotions akin to being hypnotised, enrapturing the audience in the film’s terrifying world. Moreover, sequences such as the light tunnel, in which we, alongside Dave, are pulled down a lucid display of colours, are truly mesmerising, even if we’re not entirely sure what’s happening.
Kubrick invites audiences to immerse themselves in his idea of the future. To achieve the best result, the director went to great heights to ensure that his depiction of space was as accurate as possible. The film’s space imagery is staggering, communicating the sheer vastness of the universe in comparison to the smallness of humans. There could be no better place to set a film about humankind than away from earth, with Kubrick allowing isolation to take hold of its characters and, subsequently, the audience.
Drawn-out sequences that highlight space’s expanses and the human place within it, playing out with classical pieces such as ‘Blue Danube’ and no dialogue, could be challenging for some viewers. Kubrick doesn’t prioritise thrilling action, instead languishing in slowness. However, the effect this creates is absolutely necessary for his meditations, forcing the audience to take everything in, digest it slowly, and consider our place in the universe.
The beauty of 2001: A Space Odyssey lies in its ambiguity and the wealth of interpretations available to understand it. But understanding isn’t vital, rather, Kubrick crafts a horrifying allegory on the evolution of humanity and the dangers that lie ahead. If we become too eager to take artificial advances towards our next steps, this can only lead to tragedy and destruction. When humans play God, our creations can come back to bite us even harder than can be anticipated. 2001: A Space Odyssey is Kubrick’s magnum opus, representing the most impressive heights of filmmaking.
