the proverbial "good" science fiction movie- meant to be seen on a BIG screen

Rating: 10/10 (13 January 2000)

Years from now, when quite possibly film studios decide that filming and screening motion pictures for theatrical distribution no longer will work out financially and make everything for DVD and TV and, Lord help us, cell phones and I-phones, 2001 will remain as one of those reminders of what would be eternally lost. If films like this can be made on celluloid and *intended* to be screened in full 70mm or 35mm glory for all to see in a packed theater, then there should be hope.
Because, as it stands, Kubrick's masterwork, aside from being the rare landmark to be an attempt at transmogrifying the form of film itself (as Spielberg once noted, it's not entirely drama or documentary or science fiction), is all fine and well on TV, particularly in full widescreen DVD. But, at the least for those who have problems with the film (and it's not hard to have them), it could be a universal likelihood that it's so much a pure visual experience, so visceral and surreal and all 'als', that it deserves no less than to be seen at least once up tall on a screen too many feet tall (and, fingers crossed, someday on IMAX?)
2001 has caused more debate than during presidential primaries. What the hell is up with this movie? The fact that we question it- and, perhaps, even ourselves for why we thought the way we did- is part of the experience, and the mystery, and depending on how much or how little you're willing to take on that mystery will determine what you think of the film. Is the monolith really an alien, or some nothingness that one can project whatever on to? Why does it make the high-pitched sounds on the moon when made into photo-fodder? Where is that crazy room that Bowman goes to at the end? And don't get me started on the 'star child'. It's all of this that, for me, makes it so unforgettable, and something that enriches the experience the more times its revisited.
To be fair, even as much of a Kubrick nut I am, it's hard to say that I wasn't bored the first time seeing it at the age of 12 and not used to sci-fi/fantasy that went this... well, slow isn't the word exactly, but meditative, patient, like a story that is in no need to rush itself in lieu of the stylistic choices of the director. But a few years later, it worked better, then better still. While it goes without saying that it might just fall flat for some time and time again, for me it's one of those things like a marvelous piece of music, where revisiting it is part of the enjoyment of familiarity, but at the same time you might rediscover something else, or you might have even changed since the last time.
It's surreal, trippy, courageous, revelatory, frustrating, bewildering, and firmly structured. From the continuously mind-blowing visual fx by Kubrick and Douglas Trumbull, from the ominous presence of HAL 9000(possibly as the eventual continuation of a bone thwacking ape), from every careful but broad-stroked piece of direction and subtle piece of acting, it's popular art at a high water mark. It's probably not the greatest of all films, but many others can only hope and try their absolute best to reach the levels Kubrick and Clarke reached, how it plunged the aspirations of what is "out there" among the stars and the galaxy to an intellectual point via the confounding magic of cinema (yes, I used the word magic).