Kubrick and Clarke team to form a poetic sci-fi marvel

Rating: 10/10 (10 May 2004)

The first time I ever saw 2001: A Space Odyssey was when I was in middle school. It was on network television, and my father grabbed me just in time to see two apes using bones to bludgeon another ape to death in the middle of a large puddle of water. "Watch what happens next," he said, sounding rather dramatic. Of course looking back on this, I know why this was so important to him. What I was about to see was one of the most memorable visual transitions in film history. An ape tosses his bone in the air. It rotates in slow motion, before succumbing to gravity, and as it falls, there is an abrupt cut to, of all places, outer space. In place of the bone is a spaceship, an exact graphic match.
Not quite understanding what I had just seen, and being the inquisitive kid that I was, I found a copy of Arthur C. Clarke's novel of same name, and attempted to read it before I saw the complete film. After finishing the book, I was amazed by the ideas it put forth, and felt I was ready to view the film. I watched it in its entirety, and I again saw the bone to spaceship transition, but I still did not feel confident that I knew what the hell was going on.
The significance of this startling image was not immediately apparent to me until I viewed the film again recently on the big screen. The abrupt nature of the transition serves to make the passage of time seem relatively insignificant, and in doing so, suggests that what we see as marvelous innovation (i.e.--technology and space exploration) is actually just a drop in the bucket in the greater universal scheme. Although this transition is the most memorable in the film, it represents only one of its several visual and aural matches that reflect upon the film's fictional exploration of the story behind human evolution.
The film begins with a section entitled "The Dawn of Man". We are introduced to a pack of apes who wander around their grounds doing nothing but seeking food and water. When other apes intrude, they fill the air with wild shrieks, attempting to scare off the invaders. They have no way to hunt, and no way to defend themselves against predators. It is a very primitive existence.
Then one night, the apes are awoken by an eerie, otherworldly sound. They emerge from their cave and find in front of it a giant black slab, perfectly smooth and sturdy. They are wary at first, but one by one, they gradually crowd around the monolith, as the sound grows louder and more discordant. Later, we see a single ape fidgeting aimlessly with an animal skeleton. Suddenly, the ape's face lights up with a sudden understanding. The air begins to fill with the music of Richard Strauss's "Also Sprach Zarathustra", a musical selection which this film immortalized (and is often referred to as "The 2001 song"). We quickly see a close image of the monolith with the sun centered high above it, and we now see the monolith's results. The ape lifts one of the animal's bones high above his head and makes brutal clubbing motions. He has found his weapon.
The next time another pack of apes threatens, he takes his newfound discovery, and uses it to beat one of the pack members to death. Thus, the dawn of man arrives, and the monolith's work has begun.
The remainder of the film focuses on where man has gone since then, and towards the end, delves into where man might be going. And the monolith is omnipresent. The pacing is slow and deliberate, as one would expect from a Kubrick film, and while some might view it as cumbersome, others will revel in it due to the unforgettable imagery. Due to zero gravity environments, we see people walking on all four walls, and there are several shots in which people seem to walk upside down and around rooms. We again see the spaceships which resemble the bone and also giant space stations which revolve like a wheel, yet another symbol of human innovation.
The amazing feat which Kubrick pulls off, however, is making it seem very real and plausible, rather than something purely science fictional. The shots seem almost like a ballet rather than an innovative sci-fi effect. Of course, having Johann Strauss's "Blue Danube Waltz" in the background helps with this, and I'd guess that the music was chosen for just that purpose.
Following the stunning "Blue Danube" sequence, we are introduced to Dr. Heywood Floyd (William Sylvester) of the National Council of Aeronautics. He is heading to a base on the moon to investigate a finding which has been kept secret from the public. Along the way, we see more futuristic signs of innovation: an orbiting Hilton Hotel and a video phone. A foreshadowing dialogue with other doctors in the hotel relates just how secret and important the investigation is.
When Dr. Floyd reaches the moon, we find out what the secret is. He and several other scientists descend into a giant trench which holds another monolith, identical to the one which catalyzed the ape transformations. Again, we hear the eerie discordant sounds (excerpts from "Lux Aeterna" by GyÃ¶rgy Ligeti, one of Kubrick's favorite composers). The humans crowd around the strange monolith to take a picture, and although it feels much more civilized, there is an unsettling resemblance to the primitive apes throwing themselves at the earlier monolith, all clawing for their own touch. Just at that moment, a deafening, high-pitched tone pierces the scientists' ears, and this section of the story suddenly concludes.
The middle section of the film takes place 18 months later on the ship Discovery, which is bound for Jupiter. The crew includes David Bowman (Keir Dullea), Frank Poole (Gary Lockwood), three other doctors who are in hibernation chambers, and the HAL 9000 computer (voiced by Douglas Rain). HAL is a marvel of modern computer technology. He has a perfect operational record, speaks with seemingly genuine emotion, and acts as another member of the crew. There is a very revealing moment when Bowman discusses his view on whether or not HAL has true emotions.
But when something goes wrong with HAL, and Bowman and Poole decide to disconnect him, HAL fights back, and along the way becomes one of the most monstrous villains in film history. We fear HAL so greatly not because he has a booming voice or a cruel heart, but for the exact opposite reason. He speaks quietly and calmly in a detached manner and is merely ensuring that he can do the job he was programmed to do: stay functional and make sure the mission is complete. As a computer, he does not understand the terrible things he is doing, and this makes him all the more terrifying. (It is interesting to note that Anthony Hopkins used HAL as his model when trying to create his interpretation of the cold and monstrous Hannibal Lecter).
When Bowman finally gets into the chamber housing the equipment of HAL's central functions, HAL quickly turns from villain to tragic figure. He begs in the same calm voice for Bowman to stop destroying his memory. He says he can "feel" his mind going. When Bowman persists, HAL recites one of the most heartbreaking lines in film: "I'm afraid, Dave." This sheds a haunting light on the question of HAL's emotional capability.
For the sake of preserving novelty, I will not reveal much about the film's final half hour. I will say two things however. One: It represents some of the most brilliant cinema I have ever seen. Two: If you do not read the book, you will be extremely perplexed by what transpires. Suffice it to say that the monolith's role in human evolution is finally brought to the forefront. In addition, the aesthetics and suspense of the last ten minutes are, simply put, beautiful and awe-inspiring.
It is hard to imagine any director other than Kubrick at the helm of this project. The misanthropic undercurrents regarding technological innovation reflect upon Kubrick's persistent interest in the dehumanization of society (e.g.--A Clockwork Orange, Dr. Strangelove, Full Metal Jacket). Kubrick's meticulous, deliberate directing caters perfectly to the vast emptiness and solitude of space. His sense of composition provides for striking, often disturbing imagery (consider the sun towering directly over the center of the monolith, or Bowman and Poole conversing on opposite ends of the frame with HAL in the background exactly in the middle of the frame). The visual effects, designed by Kubrick himself, are a testament to how creativity can rise above technological limitation, considering that there was no such thing as digital manipulation.
Perhaps the most amazing thing about 2001: A Space Odyssey is that despite the fact that it is almost 35 years old, and despite the fact that its vision of the future was not entirely accurate, it does not seem at all dated. The issues raised in the film are as relevant now as they were then. Certainly, human evolution is an issue that will continue to be debated for many years to come. Due to its unforgettable imagery, its novel use of classical music, and its brilliant conclusion, 2001: A Space Odyssey will not soon be forgotten.