2001: A Space Odyssey: A Review
by Ed Emshwiller
When Ed Ferman phoned and asked if I'd write a short review of
Stanley Kubrick's movie 2001: A Space Odyssey, I gladly agreed. I
hdd one strong reservation, however. I've maintained ever since I
got involved in making films myself that I hated all critics and
reviewers, and here I was, agreeing to join the "enemy" ranks.
All my complaints about how inadequate and myopic all such
reviews are seem to have come home. Now I have the problem of
trying, in a few words, to say something about another man's
film, something I'm hesistant to do even with my own work.
So, after all the hemming and hawing, let me say I liked the
movie. I recommend it to people who are interested in cinema, to
those who are interested in expanding the variety of their
experiences, and to those who are interested in science fiction.
But, to all those who go to the movies for ritualistic
involvement in a standard adventure story, beware. The film does
have one strongly dramatic sequence which is quite effective, but
that drama and its resolution is not the basis of the film,
merely an episode, and if you are going to savour the picture,
you must enjoy other aspects as well. For example, what I would
call the second sequence in the picture is a beautifully
choreographed passage with just a space ship, a space station,
the earth, and the stars. There is no "action" exept the docking
of the ship to the station. The pace is unhurried, as is true of
much of the picture, yet this sequence, with its sweeping,
turning movements, makes great kinesthetic use of the big screen
in an almost abstract sense, a joy of pure movement. At the same
time the viewer is introduced to some of the many exceptionally
good "science fiction" sets and special effects. Somehow I was
prepared not to like most of the "hardware" but found that most
was very good indeed. I expected everything to be too smooth.
Happily there are some nice, knobby spaceships. Obviously, a
tremendous amount of care and concern for detail went into the
making of this film.
But it's in the very area of detail where the picture falls short
of its potential for me. There don't seem to be any wrinkles or
grease spots on either the people or the machines. I mean this
mostly in a figurative sense. I realise the film is stylized, but
the manner of conveying "human" touches, even when ironic, seems
studied and unreal. I've just spent the past six months making an
impressionistic film of Project Apollo and have encountered a lot
of bureaucrats and spaceman types. Some I liked and some I
didn't, but in all cases they were somehow more textured than
their counterparts in 2001.
I should say here that there are virtually no films I see that
don't have areas that bother me. This one is no exception. I
guess it's my inclination to say, even of good films, "that's
nice but I would do it another way," which would be a different
film of course.
An especially interesting aspect of the film for me in that
respect is the handling of the final sequences. At one point
early in making the film, Kubrick asked me if I would assist in
designing that part. I read the script he and Arthur Clarke had
written. The problem obviously was to create an overwhelming
alien world experience. For various reasons I did not become
involved in the project, but I was intensely curious to know how
he would solve the problem. As it turned out he did it
beautifully, with apparent economy of means and with great
visceral impact. In this sequence his sue of semi-abstractions
and image modification (solarization, colour replacement, etc.)
brings to the big screen techniques which once seemed the
province of the avant-garde or experimentalists. (Which prompts
me to say that it is encouraging to see the range of cinematic
vocabulary being used in commercial movies and television today.
True, it's still a relatively small segment of the total output
that really uses so-called advanced techniques, but it's there
and growing rapidly. So is its audience. The net result is that
there are more types of films to choose from. The various value
systems available are increasing, and this is a healthy thing, I
think. Of course, it also means that the cutting edge of the
avant-garde is being pushed by an ever-growing sophistication and
has to keep moving in new directions to stay in the game.)
So, anyway, let me get on with my response to 2001. I like the
fact that Kubrick chose "The Sentinel" by Arthur Clarke to base
his science fiction movie on. The result is a good science
fiction picture without the usual overemphasis on bug-eyed
monsters (however much fun they can be sometimes). I like the
sense of scale and journey he got. It is the "biggest" science
fiction film yet in theme, execution and actual dimensions, at
least as far as I can remember. (I'd like to see again some of
the old pictures I only dimly recall, like Things to Come.) I
liked it when he implied, disliked it when he explained, which,
happily, wasn't often. I liked the way the styles varied for the
different episodes, giving the overall structure a variety in
character and mood. I was at times unhappy with the dialogue. The
picture is strongest in its non-verbal sense (a type of
filmmaking that appeals to me) even though its concept is based
on a story. I thought his use of sound was good, very effective
at times: massed voices in rising crescendo at the sight of the
mysterious slabs, lonely breathing in empty space. I liked the
open-ended ambiguities of the ending. The film had, for me, a
satisfying amount of what Sam Moskowitz calls a "sense of
wonder," and a feeling which some good science fiction has for
the sensual and mysterious regions surrounding our feeling about
machines, time and space. All in all it was a fine experience.
Copyright ©1968 by Mercury Press, Inc.; reprinted in "The Year's
Best Science Fiction No. 2" edited by Harry Harrison and Brian W. Aldiss,
by permission of the author.