2001: A Space Odyssey

Now this one was a doozy. I feel like I have truly entered the territory of the film buff with Stanley Kubrick's 1968 sci-fi thriller, and it is a territory in which I am not at home. As I was pummeled with lengthy exposition from the right, celestial time travel from the left, and philosophical perplexities from practically everywhere, I found myself befuddled and thrilled, but mostly befuddled.

First off, I feel mildly embarrassed. The opening sequence of 2001 has been referenced and reproduced so many times and I have been completely blind to it. A pack of prehistoric apes, living in a desolate landscape, encounter a floating black monolith in the centre of their camp. As they swarm around the object, I thought: 'Oh... that's what was going on in the Barbie movie'. Like I said... embarassing. The epilogue is disconcerting, as the arrival of the object sends the group into a violent frenzy, culminating in the defeat of a rival pack using animal bones as weapons. Whether technological or spiritual, the monolith seems to have a profound (and violent) evolutionary impact on the apes... a theme that will echo throughout the story.

We are then catapulted onto a space station bound for Jupiter, where scientists have discovered the very same monolith, buried deep beneath the planet's surface. Another disturbing ritual follows as the crew approach the object, underscored by an ominous wailing chorus that evokes a sense of cult-like hysteria. The scientists encircle the monolith, photographing it in reverence, before a piercing, high-pitched frequency blares. We never see them again. The monolith poses all sorts of questions from the outset, casting an unnerving sense of dread over the rest of the film. Whilst both intriguing and disturbing, this one-hour prologue was too long for my liking.

The film really gets going when we get on board 'Discovery One', a spacecraft bound for Jupiter 18 months later. Astronauts Dr Dave Bowman (Keir Dullea) and Dr Frank Poole (Gary Lockwood) operate the ship alongside HAL, a sentient HAL 9000 computer, whilst the rest of the crew lie asleep in hibernation pods. Initially, HAL (who is in charge of the majority of the ship's operations) presents as a calm, steady companion, physicalised through an unblinking red 'eye'. To pass the time, Dave plays chess with HAL (and loses), but the computer is more curious about Dave's sketches of life onboard the ship. This interest in creativity and the ability to interpret an environment beyond logic is a clear sign that HAL is more than just a robotic overseer. It begins to ask 'personal questions', interpreting Dave's body language through its all-seeing 'eye'. HAL is soon giving opinions on the nature of the mission, highly unusual for an unpartisan robot apparently void of emotion. Dave appears unsettled, but is drawn to HAL's kind, intuitive tone. Douglas Raine's voice performance does an immense job of maintaining robotic neutrality whilst imbuing HAL with a sympathetic, lifelike resonance.

The visual effects in 'Discovery One' are awe-inspiring, creating convincing illusions of anti-gravity thanks to Kubrick's employment of aviation engineers to design the sets. Quiet absorbs the ship as Dave and Frank go about their daily routines (exercise, sketching, maintenance) that establish a sense of peaceful isolation. Kubrick's sound design is equally masterful, using both silence and classical music to display the sheer vastness of space. I'll admit, the tune of Strauss' Blue Danube, so familiar now in pop culture, felt slightly camp to me. However, that is my own fault for encountering the score backwards.

When an error in the ship's system suggests that HAL may have made a mistake, Dave and Frank sneak away to an EVA pod and plan to disengage him from the system if the error persists. HAL reads their lips (through a far more menacing eye) and has other things in mind. When Frank ventures outside the craft to fix the system, HAL commandeers his space pod and kills him. A horrifying shot shows Frank hurtling through space in complete silence, grasping for his air tube. Next, all the sleeping crew members are shut off from their life support. We watch in silence as they die quietly in their pods. Silence is now utilised to devastating effect: we know something awful has happened, yet the absence of dramatic music refuses to confirm this. We, like Dave, are left isolated, exposed to a threatening presence we cannot see or hear. Dave ventures out to retrieve Frank's body, unaware of the danger he is in. Upon his return, he is refused entry back onto the mothership by HAL, who reveals its knowledge of their plan. HAL's 'life' purpose has been threatened, and it retaliates with a deeply human instinct for self-preservation. A desperation to 'live', exist, to have a legacy.

Dave eventually re-enters the ship through an emergency hatch and dismantles HAL. We witness the ordeal from inside Dave's helmet and his panicked breaths create an unbearable sense of suffocation. The recurring use of breath throughout the film (we also hear Frank breathing as he repairs the ship) confirms the men as living, breathing bodies. HAL, in comparison, is silent. No breaths punctuate his steady, unflinching tone. As Dave slowly tears HAL apart plug by plug, HAL begs for his 'life'. As HAL's physical form disintegrates, so does its 'consciousness'. HAL pleads to Dave, 'I'm afraid. I can feel my mind going', it's voice slowing into a horrific, low drawl. HAL's final moments are spent singing an eerie rendition of 'Daisy' by Harry Dacre. In 1961, the very same song was the first to be sung by an actual computer (IBM 7094). The reference deliberately draws HAL closer to the computers of our own world. Ultimately, HAL's undoing is curiosity and an inability to accept its own 'mortality', both startlingly human conceptualisations. We are left to question what, if anything, makes Dave and Frank more 'human', as both share a desire to destroy the thing that threatens their own existence

Dave continues Discovery One's mission alone and 'discovers' the monolith, though, perhaps, it has been present from the beginning of this terrifying ordeal. Perhaps, its presence was the very cause of HAL's rebellion. As we discussed earlier, wherever the monolith presides, life (in all its forms) evolves. The monolith proceeds to propel Dave into a twenty-minute vortex montage, displaying psychedelic phenomena and colossal celestial bodies. Kubrick languishes in this prolonged sequence, giving us plenty of time to think 'What the **** is going on?' Finally, Dave wakes up in a bedroom, adorned with neoclassical furniture. It is clear that whatever brought him here has attempted to curate something visibly human, but the luminous white flooring unnervingly highlights the room's artifice. "Curiouser and curioser", Dave witnesses his own lifespan unfold, aging before our eyes. Perceptions of time and space are eradicated and we somehow find ourselves in a realm more abstract than the twenty-minute time vortex/blackhole/space travel saga. Finally, on his deathbed, Dave is reunited with the mysterious black door and transforms into a planet-sized foetus. I struggled to summarise that ending neatly, can you tell?

The film's greatest narrative strength lies in the 'Discovery One' plotline, where artificial intelligence combats human resilience in a thrilling drama. HAL's fear of death and its attempts to manipulate Dave are more disturbing than its ability to comandeer an aircraft and kill its crew. As society becomes increasingly dependent on AI and computers are integral to our everyday lives, this dark sci-fi is brought hurtling back down to earth. HAL is no longer a fantastical proposition, but a premonition grounded in realism.

Whilst the philosophical drama is certainly bolstered by the prologue's disturbing exposition of the monolith and its omnipotent power, did I really have to watch monkeys fight for twenty minutes? I'm not sure. Personally, I would have preferred to explore more of the first voyage to Jupiter, allowing the chilling disappearance scene to carry more psychological weight into the 'Discovery One' plot. Instead, this aspect of the story, and its characters, feel glossed over.

The final twenty minutes of the film are intentionally perplexing. My guess? A celestial, elemental being controls the monolith, existing in a form beyond human comprehension and, thus, presents itself in the most basic form: a black rectangle. Originating from some far-off system or alternate dimension, the 'being' has a vibrational effect on all consciousness; it commands the fabric of time, accelerating lifespans and evolutionary practices. The prospect of an unexplained entity wielding such power is compelling as it deposes anthropocentric hierarchies that sit human beings at the top of the pecking order. Is this, therefore, the purpose of the strange ape prologue? The parallels in the ape and disappearance storylines certainly draw us closer to our prehistoric predecessors. In a film overloaded with fantastical, futuristic advancements, maybe we aren't as 'developed' as we think we are. Does this 'higher intelligence' grant HAL a conscious, life-affirming desire to survive, further removing our egoistic claim to higher consciousness?

These are questions that Kubrick has historically refused to answer. Indeed, no answer could possibly live up to the spectacle that is 2001: A Space Odyssey. The astounding visual effects, disconcerting soundscapes, thrilling sequences and philosophical dialogues are the film's legacy. I have no questions as to why it has cemented itself in history books, shaped a cultural obsession with the sci-fi genre and inspired countless artistic explorations of its existential quandaries. Stanley Kubrick, I salute you.

7.5/10

Yours sincerely,

The Film Buff