No equal

Rating: 10/10 (7 January 2000)

How often do you watch a film that, when you hack past the glitz and all the symptoms of Hollywood-Syndrome, is a flat-out masterpiece? Not just a great film, but a flawless one, one that moves far beyond 'I wouldn't change a thing' to one you gape in awe over, countless times over countless viewings, because you cannot comprehend how it could be so perfect. I don't usually gush like this. I admire, praise, vociferously shake my fist and rant, but never...gush. I am gushing now.
Whether it's interpreted as oedipal suckling or sexual gratification, I love the kindergarten-scrawled credits juxtaposed over the imagery of the mid-air refueling (the transfer of essence?), suggesting the ubiquitous role of sex throughout our lives. From there, the film unfolds brilliantly, playing Who's-In-Charge-Of-National-Defense? to the double standard of the water-as-semen euphemism (Ripper's strategy to stop the communist plot is avoiding ejaculation while Strangelove's solution to the impending nuclear disaster is to ejaculate at will to replenish the human race.). But that's its true beauty: Dr. Strangelove works on so many levels. If you're hard-bent on the sexual angle, the whole film can be as Freudian or Masters and Johnson as you want, from the more obvious touches (General TURGIDson, and nearly every other name) to the subtle (The homosexual undertones of "You with the old gun and me with the belt and the ammo, feeding you Jack. Feed me you said, and I was feeding you, Jack."). But it could be about the ludicrousness of the arms race or the ludicrousness of the armed forces or the ludicrousness of the most powerful men in the world. It could be about the biting irony of the quest to promote peace by the threat of war (so appropriately summed up by, "You can't fight in here, this is the war room!"). It's about all of that, and then some. Winning the Triple Crown of accents by Peter Sellers; George C. Scott and the tantric Sterling Hayden; the meticulous attention to detail (Hey, if the special effects aren't there to convincingly depict a flying B-52 from the outside, the next best thing is to show it from the inside (and, of course, to further emphasize all the useless "safety" measures the Air Force employs to avoid dropping the bomb by mistake.).).
There are few films as completely satisfying as this, especially after repeated viewings. Kubrick's very best...and that's saying a lot.