There are a lot of films that people say are must watches, I mean you only need to take one look around this site to see the kinds of things I would say should be checked out. But there are few films as influential and important as 2001: A Space Odyssey, and I can’t think of another film that epitomises the ‘must watch’ label as much as this. Stanley Kubrick’s sci-fi epic blew audiences away in 1968 with its impressive visuals and mind-bending special effects. Or it bored them to tears with its unconventional structure and minimal dialogue.
I first watched 2001 somewhere around 2013-2014 and on my first viewing I was confused as to what I had just seen, and why it’s as beloved as it is. But it always stayed in my mind and so I watched it again a couple of years later, and then again a couple of years after that, and it’s a film I find myself coming back to again and again with my appreciation growing for it each and every time. I was recently given the opportunity to watch 2001 on the big screen, and on an original 70mm film print to boot! So, there’s really no better time for me to revisit this classic and just gush over how amazing it is. I probably won’t say anything new because this film has been dissected in every possible way, but regardless, I want to give my two cents.
I think I’ve seen 2001 around six or seven times now and I still can’t really tell you what the story is, or if there really is one. Its about lots of different scientific concepts such as evolution, humanity learning it is not alone in the universe, and the dangers of advanced A.I. computer systems just to name a few. It’s a film that more than five decades after its release defies explanation and puzzles even the most seasoned of film theorists and scientific experts. But that’s all part of what makes 2001 such an unforgettable experience, because there’s just nothing else like it. So, for the purposes of this review, I’m going to cover each section of the film sequentially and discuss what I liked and disliked, because addressing the film as a whole is something I’m not really sure I’m going to be able to do without saying everything I want to say.
I first watched 2001 somewhere around 2013-2014 and on my first viewing I was confused as to what I had just seen, and why it’s as beloved as it is. But it always stayed in my mind and so I watched it again a couple of years later, and then again a couple of years after that, and it’s a film I find myself coming back to again and again with my appreciation growing for it each and every time. I was recently given the opportunity to watch 2001 on the big screen, and on an original 70mm film print to boot! So, there’s really no better time for me to revisit this classic and just gush over how amazing it is. I probably won’t say anything new because this film has been dissected in every possible way, but regardless, I want to give my two cents.
I think I’ve seen 2001 around six or seven times now and I still can’t really tell you what the story is, or if there really is one. Its about lots of different scientific concepts such as evolution, humanity learning it is not alone in the universe, and the dangers of advanced A.I. computer systems just to name a few. It’s a film that more than five decades after its release defies explanation and puzzles even the most seasoned of film theorists and scientific experts. But that’s all part of what makes 2001 such an unforgettable experience, because there’s just nothing else like it. So, for the purposes of this review, I’m going to cover each section of the film sequentially and discuss what I liked and disliked, because addressing the film as a whole is something I’m not really sure I’m going to be able to do without saying everything I want to say.
Part I: The Dawn of Man
The opening titles of 2001 are simply iconic. A view from space of the sun rising over the earth whilst Richard Strauss’ ‘Also sprach Zarathustra’ booms through the speakers. It’s a magnificent sequence to behold and just the first of Kubrick’s most excellent visual tricks that really makes you feel like you’re in space. It does it a lot better than modern films manage to do it, and it’s all just some clever perspective trickery with a lightbulb and some models.
The following fifteen to twenty minutes are free of dialogue, and mostly free of any non-diegetic audio too as we follow a group of apes who are evicted from a watering hole by a rival group of apes. The first group takes shelter from the rain in a nearby cave, and when morning breaks, they come face to face with the iconic black monolith. This gives them the knowledge to use bones as tools and weapons which they use to take back their territory, and so begins the evolution of man, born out of the bloodshed of two warring tribes of apes.
For a film about space this sequence certainly caught me off guard when I watched it the first time, and I can understand why this might be a bit of a high entry barrier for most people. It’s painfully slow, and the absence of ambient sound only makes it more difficult. But I have to say I do find the construction of the sequence rather brilliant.
It tells a story with no words and little sound. The only audio is the whistle of the wind, the scream of the apes, and environmental sound such as gravel crunching underfoot. It’s a story that’s communicated entirely through physical action and as an admirer of physical theatre I found the performances of the actors in the rather convincing monkey suits quite remarkable. It also features one of the most iconic jump cuts in history as a bone flying through the air suddenly changes to a spaceship, signifying man’s evolution from the first tools to space travel.
The opening titles of 2001 are simply iconic. A view from space of the sun rising over the earth whilst Richard Strauss’ ‘Also sprach Zarathustra’ booms through the speakers. It’s a magnificent sequence to behold and just the first of Kubrick’s most excellent visual tricks that really makes you feel like you’re in space. It does it a lot better than modern films manage to do it, and it’s all just some clever perspective trickery with a lightbulb and some models.
The following fifteen to twenty minutes are free of dialogue, and mostly free of any non-diegetic audio too as we follow a group of apes who are evicted from a watering hole by a rival group of apes. The first group takes shelter from the rain in a nearby cave, and when morning breaks, they come face to face with the iconic black monolith. This gives them the knowledge to use bones as tools and weapons which they use to take back their territory, and so begins the evolution of man, born out of the bloodshed of two warring tribes of apes.
For a film about space this sequence certainly caught me off guard when I watched it the first time, and I can understand why this might be a bit of a high entry barrier for most people. It’s painfully slow, and the absence of ambient sound only makes it more difficult. But I have to say I do find the construction of the sequence rather brilliant.
It tells a story with no words and little sound. The only audio is the whistle of the wind, the scream of the apes, and environmental sound such as gravel crunching underfoot. It’s a story that’s communicated entirely through physical action and as an admirer of physical theatre I found the performances of the actors in the rather convincing monkey suits quite remarkable. It also features one of the most iconic jump cuts in history as a bone flying through the air suddenly changes to a spaceship, signifying man’s evolution from the first tools to space travel.
Part II: Journey to the Moon
The sequence that immediately follows the Dawn of Man is where we get our first glimpse as characters, a discernible plot, and the film finally moves into its space-age setting.
Dr. Heywood Floyd (William Sylvester) is on a journey to Clavius Base on Earth’s moon. We see how Dr. Floyd is able to get to the moon by using passenger transit style transport (a service rather humorously provided by the now defunct Pan American Airways). First arriving at a space station in Earth’s upper atmosphere, and then waiting for a separate transport that will take him to the moon once the orbital alignment is correct.
The audio mix on the Blu-Ray unfortunately always puts the dialogue in the scene down very low so it took me a long time to figure out what was going on. But the first introduction we get to any kind of story is that a group of scientists that Dr. Floyd meets on the midway station are curious about his journey, stating that Clavius Base has been quarantined following some kind of an epidemic. Floyd’s clearly been sent in to investigate and knows more than he’s willing to let on, and once he does arrive it becomes apparent why.
A mining team have discovered a large black monolith buried under the surface, and Floyd has been sent in to ascertain what this object might be, and whether it’s of alien origin.
This part of the film I always find the least interesting. I think it comes down to how the dialogue is written, it’s so vague and clinical that you really don’t know who this Dr. Floyd is or why he’s important until near the end of the entire sequence. You’re just following this guy as he does a journey from Earth to the moon whilst interacting with a number of space-age technologies that were predictions on how existing technology would likely evolve. Long story short, I find it a bit of a bore narratively, but the set design and the way technology is presented do make it interesting.
For example, to combat the effects of zero gravity the stewards aboard the Pan Am spaceflight wear shoes with Velcro on the bottom to allow them to stick to the walkways around the ship. It then means that they’re able to walk on walls and ceilings to access different decks of the ship which are all shown using some excellent rotating sets and clever camera placement.
The film also does a pretty good job at depicting videocalls, as Dr. Floyd had a lengthy conversation with his daughter once he arrives at the space station. It’s something more akin to a conference room system rather than the pocket-sized version most of us use in our daily lives, but it emulates the technology very well.
The finale of this sequence is, for me, the most haunting scene of the whole film. The score is composed of this eerie choral wailing whilst Dr. Floyd and the other scientists approach the monolith, before it unleashes this high-pitched ringing noise as they all writhe in pain. Whilst the final sequence of the film has plenty of disturbing and unnatural imagery, it’s this moment that sticks in my mind as the one bit of 2001 that actually creeps me out. I think it might be because of how dimly lit the dig site is and how imposing the monolith appears to be here, paired with that eerie score. It just really puts me on edge.
The sequence that immediately follows the Dawn of Man is where we get our first glimpse as characters, a discernible plot, and the film finally moves into its space-age setting.
Dr. Heywood Floyd (William Sylvester) is on a journey to Clavius Base on Earth’s moon. We see how Dr. Floyd is able to get to the moon by using passenger transit style transport (a service rather humorously provided by the now defunct Pan American Airways). First arriving at a space station in Earth’s upper atmosphere, and then waiting for a separate transport that will take him to the moon once the orbital alignment is correct.
The audio mix on the Blu-Ray unfortunately always puts the dialogue in the scene down very low so it took me a long time to figure out what was going on. But the first introduction we get to any kind of story is that a group of scientists that Dr. Floyd meets on the midway station are curious about his journey, stating that Clavius Base has been quarantined following some kind of an epidemic. Floyd’s clearly been sent in to investigate and knows more than he’s willing to let on, and once he does arrive it becomes apparent why.
A mining team have discovered a large black monolith buried under the surface, and Floyd has been sent in to ascertain what this object might be, and whether it’s of alien origin.
This part of the film I always find the least interesting. I think it comes down to how the dialogue is written, it’s so vague and clinical that you really don’t know who this Dr. Floyd is or why he’s important until near the end of the entire sequence. You’re just following this guy as he does a journey from Earth to the moon whilst interacting with a number of space-age technologies that were predictions on how existing technology would likely evolve. Long story short, I find it a bit of a bore narratively, but the set design and the way technology is presented do make it interesting.
For example, to combat the effects of zero gravity the stewards aboard the Pan Am spaceflight wear shoes with Velcro on the bottom to allow them to stick to the walkways around the ship. It then means that they’re able to walk on walls and ceilings to access different decks of the ship which are all shown using some excellent rotating sets and clever camera placement.
The film also does a pretty good job at depicting videocalls, as Dr. Floyd had a lengthy conversation with his daughter once he arrives at the space station. It’s something more akin to a conference room system rather than the pocket-sized version most of us use in our daily lives, but it emulates the technology very well.
The finale of this sequence is, for me, the most haunting scene of the whole film. The score is composed of this eerie choral wailing whilst Dr. Floyd and the other scientists approach the monolith, before it unleashes this high-pitched ringing noise as they all writhe in pain. Whilst the final sequence of the film has plenty of disturbing and unnatural imagery, it’s this moment that sticks in my mind as the one bit of 2001 that actually creeps me out. I think it might be because of how dimly lit the dig site is and how imposing the monolith appears to be here, paired with that eerie score. It just really puts me on edge.
Part III: The Rise of Artificial Intelligence
The third sequence of 2001 is arguably its most iconic. It’s what everyone immediately thinks of when you mention the film, and it’s probably the best sequence of the film to boot, but that might be because it most closely follows what you would expect from traditional filmmaking.
Eighteen months after the discovery at Clavius, Dr. David Bowman (Keir Dullea), and Dr. Frank Poole (Gary Lockwood) are pilots of the Discovery One mission to Jupiter. The remaining crew are in cryo-sleep with the majority of the ship’s functions being handled by HAL-9000 (Douglas Rain), a supercomputer with such advanced learning abilities that it is considered to be true artificial intelligence. But Bowman and Poole begin to fear for their lives as HAL exhibits some concerning behavioural changes.
This sequence begins similarly to the previous two sequences, slow and methodical camera work and minimal sound, but it does introduce the story in a really organic way. Bowman and Poole are sat eating and watching an interview they gave via some kind of catch-up TV service using tablets. It’s really weird seeing how accurate that depiction of technology is, as it’s something that’s still relatively new (a little more than a decade old perhaps?) but was around fifty years out at the time of 2001’s production so it’s definitely a little surprising seeing it depicted so accurately.
The shot of Dullea running around the centrifugal deck of Discovery One whilst the camera follows in front and behind him is just genius, giving the impression of gravity pulling him to the floor wherever that may be. Moving sets is the key to making 2001 appear to actually be filmed in space, and its moviemaking magic that seems to have been lost in favour of shoddy CGI in modern films.
The sequences where Bowman and Poole pilot the maintenance shuttle around the exterior of Discovery One are rather tedious to watch because the shuttle moves so slowly and you’re largely absent of anything to relate to as all you can see is the shuttle and then infinite empty space behind them.
However, the fight for their lives against HAL is rather exciting, and the final moments of HAL’s life are one of cinema’s most iconic moments, as the dying machine loses its memories and begins to sing. It’s kind of sad, and the way that Kubrick manages to make HAL an emotional being is incredibly impressive given the absence of a physical form, and the cold delivery of Rain’s performance.
The third sequence of 2001 is arguably its most iconic. It’s what everyone immediately thinks of when you mention the film, and it’s probably the best sequence of the film to boot, but that might be because it most closely follows what you would expect from traditional filmmaking.
Eighteen months after the discovery at Clavius, Dr. David Bowman (Keir Dullea), and Dr. Frank Poole (Gary Lockwood) are pilots of the Discovery One mission to Jupiter. The remaining crew are in cryo-sleep with the majority of the ship’s functions being handled by HAL-9000 (Douglas Rain), a supercomputer with such advanced learning abilities that it is considered to be true artificial intelligence. But Bowman and Poole begin to fear for their lives as HAL exhibits some concerning behavioural changes.
This sequence begins similarly to the previous two sequences, slow and methodical camera work and minimal sound, but it does introduce the story in a really organic way. Bowman and Poole are sat eating and watching an interview they gave via some kind of catch-up TV service using tablets. It’s really weird seeing how accurate that depiction of technology is, as it’s something that’s still relatively new (a little more than a decade old perhaps?) but was around fifty years out at the time of 2001’s production so it’s definitely a little surprising seeing it depicted so accurately.
The shot of Dullea running around the centrifugal deck of Discovery One whilst the camera follows in front and behind him is just genius, giving the impression of gravity pulling him to the floor wherever that may be. Moving sets is the key to making 2001 appear to actually be filmed in space, and its moviemaking magic that seems to have been lost in favour of shoddy CGI in modern films.
The sequences where Bowman and Poole pilot the maintenance shuttle around the exterior of Discovery One are rather tedious to watch because the shuttle moves so slowly and you’re largely absent of anything to relate to as all you can see is the shuttle and then infinite empty space behind them.
However, the fight for their lives against HAL is rather exciting, and the final moments of HAL’s life are one of cinema’s most iconic moments, as the dying machine loses its memories and begins to sing. It’s kind of sad, and the way that Kubrick manages to make HAL an emotional being is incredibly impressive given the absence of a physical form, and the cold delivery of Rain’s performance.
Part IV: Beyond Understanding
The final sequence of 2001 is perhaps its most divisive because it is almost entirely absent of discernible meaning. This finale has been analysed for years and nobody can really ever agree on what it truly means, which would definitely frustrate audiences looking for a neat and tidy conclusion.
The sequence sees Dr. Bowman arrive in the orbit of Jupiter and discovering another monolith. From here Bowman sees images beyond the comprehension of the human mind, eventually landing him in a room. In the room he can only see future versions of himself, and every time he sees one, he inhabits their body, with the previous version of him disappearing. As Bowman’s old body dies, he transforms into a foetus floating through the stars.
I’m not going to try and explain what this might all mean because there’s thousands of theories out there and all of them would likely do a better job at trying to make sense of this psychedelic trip. But I will say that this is by far the most visually impressive sequence of the film, and that’s saying something because the rest of the film is gorgeously shot by cinematographer Geoffrey Unsworth. But here Kubrick plays with the very fabric of film development and produces some dazzling visual effects entirely without the use of computers. It’s accompanied by an equally haunting and beautiful score and for me is my favourite part of the whole film.
The final few minutes in Bowman’s strange room are to me like a nightmare, and it always makes me so uncomfortable. There’s no way in or out, and its so beyond explanation that it just creeps me out.
The final sequence of 2001 is perhaps its most divisive because it is almost entirely absent of discernible meaning. This finale has been analysed for years and nobody can really ever agree on what it truly means, which would definitely frustrate audiences looking for a neat and tidy conclusion.
The sequence sees Dr. Bowman arrive in the orbit of Jupiter and discovering another monolith. From here Bowman sees images beyond the comprehension of the human mind, eventually landing him in a room. In the room he can only see future versions of himself, and every time he sees one, he inhabits their body, with the previous version of him disappearing. As Bowman’s old body dies, he transforms into a foetus floating through the stars.
I’m not going to try and explain what this might all mean because there’s thousands of theories out there and all of them would likely do a better job at trying to make sense of this psychedelic trip. But I will say that this is by far the most visually impressive sequence of the film, and that’s saying something because the rest of the film is gorgeously shot by cinematographer Geoffrey Unsworth. But here Kubrick plays with the very fabric of film development and produces some dazzling visual effects entirely without the use of computers. It’s accompanied by an equally haunting and beautiful score and for me is my favourite part of the whole film.
The final few minutes in Bowman’s strange room are to me like a nightmare, and it always makes me so uncomfortable. There’s no way in or out, and its so beyond explanation that it just creeps me out.
Part V: A Review Odyssey
Long story short, I love 2001: A Space Odyssey. When you compare it to its contemporaries the film was so far ahead of its time that it boggles the mind. I can understand why many will never get on with the film, what with the slow pace, the seemingly absent narrative, and the peculiar construction of the whole thing. But personally, I love 2001 for its artistic merits and desire to push the boundaries as far as possible.
It’s gorgeously shot, and the ingenious set design makes the whole film look incredible. The classical soundtrack makes it stand apart from almost any other sci-fi film ever and gives an entirely new dimension to the iconic works. I also kind of like the minimal dialogue, I find it draws me in and the environment does so much of the storytelling.
It’s definitely not for everyone, and whilst I would recommend this to anyone I could, it’s never a film I push onto people. It really needs to be approached with an open mind and the understanding that you’re probably not going to get it, and you’re probably not going to like some of it. But that’s ok, it’s one of my favourite films of all time and there’s bits of it I don’t like. But the bits I do like I simply adore, and its these moments and the influence they have had on cinema ever since that makes me just fall head over heels for 2001 every time I see it.
Long story short, I love 2001: A Space Odyssey. When you compare it to its contemporaries the film was so far ahead of its time that it boggles the mind. I can understand why many will never get on with the film, what with the slow pace, the seemingly absent narrative, and the peculiar construction of the whole thing. But personally, I love 2001 for its artistic merits and desire to push the boundaries as far as possible.
It’s gorgeously shot, and the ingenious set design makes the whole film look incredible. The classical soundtrack makes it stand apart from almost any other sci-fi film ever and gives an entirely new dimension to the iconic works. I also kind of like the minimal dialogue, I find it draws me in and the environment does so much of the storytelling.
It’s definitely not for everyone, and whilst I would recommend this to anyone I could, it’s never a film I push onto people. It really needs to be approached with an open mind and the understanding that you’re probably not going to get it, and you’re probably not going to like some of it. But that’s ok, it’s one of my favourite films of all time and there’s bits of it I don’t like. But the bits I do like I simply adore, and its these moments and the influence they have had on cinema ever since that makes me just fall head over heels for 2001 every time I see it.