2001: Truly an Odyssey

Rating: 8/10 (27 September 2015)

2001: A Space Odyssey is no more a film than I a potato. And, while the limits of my physical comprehension prevent me from truly knowing otherwise, I am not a potato. Rather than being a film, 2001 is a thrillingly ambitious visual journey that transcends time and space, bringing forth puzzling, yet provocative ideas of the beauty and horror in mankind's quest to further itself as a species. It is an experience that refuses to spoon-feed its themes, opening the intellectual playing field for multiple interpretations, creating a swarm of controversy and argument as each individual seeks to piece together the subtle and not-so-subtle hints at what in the world 2001 is saying. And if that weren't enough, it is thrilling, beautifully paced, and visually stunning for a film (for lack of a better word) made in the 1960s.
2001 begins, rather curiously, at the "dawn of man". Men in monkey suits roam the desolate plains of Africa (I assume that it is Africa due to the general consensus that mankind originated in Africa). I must say, that even for men in monkey suits, they were quite convincing as actual monkeys. Hilarious, even. But that's besides the point. The "dawn of man" sequence is done to show the dawn of human ingenuity, and how this newfound ability to use elements in our environment to our own personal use put us at the top of the evolutionary pyramid. It also suggests at some divine intervention, with the appearance of a large, black, rectangular block that seems to create the ingenuity within humanity.
Flash forward many, many years, and mankind has colonized the moon. A doctor of some sort is heading to the moon to retrieve an artifact. A brilliant docking sequence ensues, as spaceships float towards and around each other, provocatively shadowed, while a familiar classical waltz highlights the dance-like quality of the whole scene. It is slightly overextended, I admit, but I suppose that this was done for the benefit of the 60s audience, who had likely seen nothing even close to the likes of this film's visuals before. The doctor lands on the moon, and heads to the artifact, whatever it is. I will not reveal what this artifact is (although I'm sure that pretty much everyone knows), but whatever it is sparks a mission to Jupiter eighteen months later, manned by two men in charge of the maintenance of the ship, a few members of the survey team who are in cryostasis, and the sentient computer HAL 9000, who controls most of the ship. This sequence resorts to a conventional narrative that is significantly faster paced and more atmospheric than the other sections of 2001. What basically happens is this: HAL makes a mistake, and everything goes downhill from there.
The thing I liked most about this sequence is the acting. In this day and age, our cinematic characters feel deliberately scripted, while in 2001, the dialogue feels real, complete with "ums", verbal mistakes, and real emotion. The actors feel like real people, and we are thus able to sympathize with all of them, even including HAL.
And then the film ends. And what an ending it is. It is an ending that will fuel controversy for years to come, as it is so frustratingly complicated and ambiguous, that it can be interpreted in any number of ways. Some may toss it off as pretentious (which is valid), while others may devote their waking hours to unceasing analysis. Interstellar, in an obvious attempt to rip-off 2001's shocking ending, took a shot at it, but just ended up drowning in ridiculous pseudoscience. 2001 doesn't pretend to be bound by the realm of science. Its thought-provoking climax, unlike Interstellar's, is a purely transcendental experience that appeals to our imagination as well as our intellect. Although the bit before the final sequence is ridiculously and annoyingly over extended, this is only a small issue compared to the beauty of the final sequence.
I loved this movie, because it forced me to think, not just sit and drool. We have become so used to being served up ideas (or passive entertainment) on a platter, that we forget our own intelligence, becoming one with the ideas of the filmmaker rather than creating our own.
Although you may condemn Kubrick as a pretentious showman, keep in mind that he can do more with a large, black, rectangular block than most contemporary directors can do with mountains of CGI, and that is what makes him one of the greats. Let me put it this way: If all films were potatoes, 2001 would be a film.