Seriously now, you don't want a movie review to spoil one of film history's most amazing enigmas, do you?
The plot is really hard to define. We begin by watching a group of apes do typical ape stuff. This is not what we might expect from a science fiction movie, but apes it is. These apes encounter...something. A large black rock (hereafter "The Monolith") that seems to have some effect on them, though it is hard to define exactly what. These apes then learn to use bones as tools. Then, in one of the greatest time-jumps of movie history, we are rocketed to the near future, when space travel is common and we are beginning our baby steps into the solar system. There is a permanent base on the moon, and something has been discovered there. It is another Monolith, which sends a radio signal out toward Jupiter. So we jump to the mission to Jupiter that results from this discovery. This Jupiter mission is the part of the film that has the closest thing resembling a typical movie plot. Astronauts Dave Bowman and Frank Poole are the crew of the ship heading out into deep space. I guess technically there are other crewmen; several scientists are in cryosleep, and then there is HAL 9000, the ship artificial intelligence. But then something goes wrong; HAL predicts the failure of a circuit board, which when replaced is found to be in perfect condition. At this point there is a paradox, a bit of a conundrum really; since this seems to be an error, and since HAL supposedly cannot make an error, Frank and Dave begin to wonder whether to shut HAL down. So HAL tries to kill them. Frank is lost into deep space, and Dave is locked out of the ship in the ship's space pod. (and thus the exchange "Open the pod bay doors, HAL." "I'm sorry Dave, I can't do that." becomes movie legend) To make the long story short, Dave forces his way in, manually shuts HAL down (And by the way, if your computer starts singing "Daisy Belle"...run.), and completes the journey to Jupiter on his own.
And then things REALLY get weird. At Jupiter Dave discovers another Monolith, and flies his pod toward it. And then he goes into hyperspeed, or something. There is a segment of probably about 3-5 minutes of nothing but quickly moving lights and odd patterns. It's a light and sound spectacular show, but very trippy. And just as suddenly, Dave finds himself in a hotel room. Well, it's something like a hotel room anyway. Very austere, without carpet. Just hard surfaces and a bed. Then he sees himself out of the pod. Then he explores a bit into the bathroom, then sees himself, only now as an older man, eating at a table. Then the Older Dave knocks over his glass, breaking it, and after looking at the glass glances at the bed and sees himself again, only this time as a very old man. Old Man Dave is dying, ancient, very close to the end of his life. Then the Monolith shows up again, and as Old Man Dave reaches out to it he is transformed into a glowing, quasi-spiritual human fetus. This "Star Child" then is shown floating through the void of space, revisiting earth and watching over the globe as "Thus Spake Zarathustra" plays its epic music in the background once again.
The End.
I remember my very first full viewing of 2001 many years ago. I remember quite well my initial reaction to what I had just seen. I think my full thought pattern was as follows: "What? ...what? ...did I just...what was...huh? Really?" I admit, I was lost and had no clue what I had just seen. There did not seem to be any rational explanation to what I had just seen. Other than the obvious, which was that there were film makers who did a LOT of drugs in the 60's. But now after seeing it many more times, and contemplating long and hard over the various themes of the film (and even reading the book), I think I have a much better understanding of what the film is saying. And I actually believe it is brilliant, even though I disagree with its conclusions.
This is a movie about a journey, a "space odyssey," as it calls it. No, not the trip to Jupiter, that's only one very small part. Really, this is a journey of a whole species, from birth to the evolution of something wholly new. Evolution is at the heart of this film, but it is a guided evolution as represented here. Humanity begins when the Monolith is first encountered; what humanity was to become is inspired at that point at the beginning of the film. And humanity is defined by its tools. It was the crude bone club that marks the beginning of the human race. Symbolically, the bone is thrown into the air and becomes a space ship. Just another stage in evolution, because you see, the human race goes on progresses, and the tools become more complex.
But now something is changing. Tools enable us to reach into space, but our tools are beginning to get away from us, as symbolized by the floating pen in the middle of the earth to the moon sequence. Much is made of the tools that humanity has mastered, yet the tools that define us and give us our best advantage over nature are becoming our biggest threat to ourselves. This is most evident in HAL 9000. HAL is the greatest tool ever invented by humanity, a flawless computer of exceptional speed and ability. This perfect tool, designed to carry out its task with perfection, concludes that perfection cannot be attained while the humans it should be helping remain alive. After all, if the computer cannot make an error and humans can, then what should be done to remove the chance of failure?
HAL fails to kill all the astronauts, with Dave triumphing over him. Tools cannot be the future of humanity; designing new and better tools only seems to lead to the probability of destruction. But if tools are not the future, then what is? Dave discovers the next step in encountering the Monolith again. He travels beyond space and time, to a place not constrained by distance and sequence. Certainly this "hotel room" is the most puzzling part of the film. It is here that Dave, and humanity with Dave as its representative, learns to rid itself of the tools that are now a detriment to further development. First, Dave leaves the space pod, and that disappears. Then Dave leaves his suit behind, aging and now eating at a table. But even the tools of table, utensils, and cup must be rejected; it is when Dave breaks the cup and sees the wine (presumably wine, anyway) spilling out that he is able to take the next step. He is dying, yet there is a rebirth awaiting. One more encounter with the Monolith and humanity has finally progressed to the next stage, one needing no tool and constrained by nothing. The Star Child has been born, and with him the future hope of humanity.
So what does the Monolith represent? One possibility is that it is a form of life that is far beyond our existence, an alien presence that simply manifests itself in this way. This is the way the book presents it. Another way to take the Monolith is simply as a marker, a beacon that indicates major moments of human development. I personally think the movie makes more sense along this option.
It needn't be said that I disagree utterly with the message of this movie. As a Christian, I believe what sets humanity apart from the animal kingdom is not the fact we use tools, but rather that we are created in the Image of God. And the great hope of humanity is not simply progressing beyond tools and flesh, but spiritual rebirth and resurrection with Jesus Christ as Lord. The worldview of Christianity and the worldview of 2001 could not really be more different. However, the movie is certainly a work of art, and one that is worthy of appreciation. And the longing that the movie has for something greater than the physical, something beyond the consumeristic mentality, is laudable. The sad part is that the movie's hope seems to be that somehow, someday we might possibly maybe perhaps attain a godlike status through unknown means. This type of optimism is unmerited and actually kinda pathetic. Humanity needs a better hope; one found in a real Savior who has overcome death and is beyond the limitations of this world.
Technically, this movie is a masterpiece. The classical soundtrack consists of songs like "Thus Spake Zarathustra" (popularly known now as the song from 2001) and "The Blue Danube." And with such limited dialogue (you will not hear a whole lot of talking in this one), I almost regard 2001 as a cinematic ballet. Everything seems to dance with the music; spaceships fly, space stations spin, and apes strike the ground, all in time with the beat.
Beyond that, the special effects are astounding, even by today's terms. Everything looks fabulous; the shuttles and stations (done with models) are well-conceived and believable, and the weightless moments are perfectly filmed. Visually, only the "flying at hyperspeed" portion at the end looks dated at all. Remembering that 2001 was filmed nearly 10 years before Star Wars will also help you appreciate the model work. And if we consider that this vision of the future was all conceived and filmed before the first moon landing our appreciation will grow by magnitude.
This is a masterpiece, but it is hardly among my favorite films. To be fair, while it is always interesting it is not always entertaining. I'm sure that those who only like movies that have tons of action and constant tension would find 2001 a tad on the dull side. You might even hear the word "boring."
But I do enjoy 2001. I find it stimulating as a mental exercise. In film-history terms, it is a must-see simply due to its unmistakable influence; it is undeniably important and references to it permeate our popular culture. I also simply enjoy the music and rhythm of the film in the same way that I would enjoy listening to a favorite CD or marveling at ballet or interpretive dance. This is a deep film, deserving of the recognition it has always received. 2001 is an enigma, a great work of film art that will continue to puzzle and befuddle audiences for years to come. Yes, I'm a fan.
Entertainment: 4/10
Artistic Value: 10/10
Technical Merit: 10/10
Overall: 8/10
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