On March 31st of 1964, Stanley Kubrick, fresh from the success of his dark comedy Dr Strangelove or: How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Bomb (1964), composed a letter to renowned astronomer and science fiction novelist Arthur C. Clarke, which contained a proposal for a joint effort in writing a screenplay that would be turned into the ‘greatest science fiction film ever made’. Kubrick explained to Clarke that he didn’t want his film to look like the multitude of sci-fi B-movies that had been churned out over the last decade and when Clarke agreed to lend his support, it started a long, five-year process that resulted in one of the most original, breathtaking and iconic pieces of cinema ever created for the screen.
The film was of course 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), a film that was completely and unreservedly ground-breaking, especially for the 1960s. From it’s most silently isolated moments in deep space, to it’s cataclysmic kaleidoscope of colours during the Star Gate sequence, the creation of 2001: A Space Odyssey was a pivotal moment in filmmaking.
In essence, I don’t think that 2001: A Space Odyssey is completely about the story, but rather the journey through it. The film features such excellent performances from Keir Dullea (who plays Dr. Dave Bowman) and Gary Lockwood, portraying Dr. Frank Poole, despite the fact that there really isn’t very much dialogue (but it certainly adds to the realism of the potential monotony of life on board a spacecraft). However, they look comfortable in their roles as astronauts, substituting the typical masculine bravado for intelligent and thoughtful professionalism. The story itself is a tool for the audience to decide for themselves what the film means about what it is to be human, and so I don’t think it necessary to give a plot summary. The real brilliance of the film is in its execution, which is simply some of the most inspiring I have ever witnessed.
First of all, you can’t help but notice and quietly admire the sheer beauty of Kubrick’s vast, manufactured universe. If you were to look at any other science fiction production of the 1960s, such as Space Probe Taurus (1965) or Planet of the Apes (1968), it is easy to point out the cheesy costume design and obvious sets. But 2001: A Space Odyssey revolutionised how filmmakers portrayed space. Kubrick famously pioneered technology such as rotating sets to give a realistic depiction of life on board a spaceship – such technology cost around $750,000 in 1968 money. He also employed more simple techniques, such as filming different coloured paints as they drip into oil to capture the illusion of galaxies and stars expanding, contorting and erupting, which is in my opinion the most brilliant sequence of the film. Despite understanding how Kubrick achieved the effects in the scene, it is a true indicator of it’s beauty that the effect is still mind-blowing.
Secondly, the sheer technical brilliance cannot be ignored. Kubrick and his team spent weeks designing and creating every aspect of 2001, even, as Production Design Supervisor Anthony Masters said, ‘right down to the last knife and fork. If we had to design a door, we would do it in our style’. This gives the most incredible feeling of reality when you are watching the film, noticing how even the tiniest details were excruciatingly formed. Built upon each other, these details form the basis of the beauty of the film – 2001: A Space Odyssey is simply gorgeous to look at.
Film critic Richard Roud, in the Thursday 3rd of May 2018 edition of the Guardian, stated that despite the beauty of the film, it is ‘too self-indulgent’. Whilst the feature is an absolute showcase of the skills mastered by not only Stanley Kubrick, but his entire production crew of more than forty members, I strongly disagree that it is ‘too self-indulgent’. Is space itself ‘too self-indulgent’? Kubrick and his team portrayed the ‘final frontier’ with such ground-breaking energy that to say it is too self-indulgent is ridiculous. Even more so, when you put it against other sci-fi films of the same era, it stands well above the rest. The sequences and special effects never get tiring, instead they are completely captivating from the first moment to the last.
For the most part, the magic onscreen is accompanied by the everyday sounds of space travel: the tense breathing of Frank Poole as he conducts a spacewalk; the humming of electronics in the spacecraft’s control room or the subtle clicks of buttons. Sometimes, 2001 is frighteningly silent (Stanley Kubrick, having consulted top-level astronomers and NASA engineers felt he needed to create the isolating silence of the space vacuum). When music is used, it is used brilliantly to mirror the events in the film. For example, as a space shuttle cautiously and gently docks to a space station, Kubrick has Johann Strauss II’s classical piece ‘The Blue Danube’ waltz alongside, slowly and lightly accenting the unhurried, careful manoeuvrings of the craft. There is inaction where there could easily be action, and it is all the more iconic for it – there are no high-drama sequences that would seem so out of place, but a mesmerizing, albeit intense, calmness that feels so much more realistic.
2001: A Space Odyssey is an adventure like no other. To say that it is Stanley Kubrick’s best work would be to say it is at the top of a ‘Greatest Films of All Time’ list, which is obviously completely subjective. However, although I am not a great fan of science fiction, 2001: A Space Odyssey is one of the films that you fundamentally must see if you enjoy experiencing the magic of cinema. Kubrick’s masterpiece will transport you into the deepest oceans of space, fixing you in a trance as interstellar expedition unravels before you. Then, when the cut to the credits arrives, you land with your feet firmly back on earth, feeling almost disappointed, and wondering to yourself – ‘When will the future arrive?’