_**Inscrutable space science-fiction as cinematic art**_ The discovery of an ancient extraterrestrial monolith on the Moon leads to a mission to Jupiter, but the astronauts have unexpected complications with their vessel’s onboard computer, HAL 9000. William Sylvester plays an official of US Astronautics in the first hour while Keir Dullea and Gary Lockwood play the two functioning astronauts in the second half. Created by Stanley Kubrick (director/writer) and Arthur C. Clarke (writer), "2001: A Space Odyssey" (1968) is an artistic sci-fi film about human evolution, advanced technology, the wonders of space, the routineness of space travel, artificial intelligence and the mystery of extraterrestrial life. It mixes elements of “Planet of the Apes,” which debuted over six weeks earlier, with aspects of “Star Trek: The Motion Picture,” which came out eleven years later and was obviously influenced by this one-of-a-kind movie. It begins with the “dawn of man” as a curious introduction before jumping forward to the 21st Century, which has been called the longest flash-forward in cinematic history. The depictions of space travel and life-in-space feel wholly authentic. But “2001” is peculiar in that it rejects traditional techniques of narrative cinema and is often a nonverbal experience, which leaves some viewers in awe and others bored. It’s not about conventional thrills, but rather disquieting awe. It’s not easy entertainment, but meditative, transcendent art. The 1985 sequel, “2010: The Year We Make Contact,” is more standard and less ambiguous yet a worthy companion piece. The soundtrack mixes classical compositions, e.g. “Also Sprach Zarathustra” by Richard Strauss, with four creepy modernistic compositions by György Ligeti. The parts of the movie that utilize the latter pieces really evoke an unsettling sense of the unknown. My favorite part is the astronauts’ exchange with HAL, which involves almost an hour of the runtime and is the only part of the film that generates a low-key sense of suspense. Personally, I don’t believe that humankind began as apes (rolling my eyes). But, even if this were true, where did the apes come from? Did they just spontaneously manifest by accident? If so, when? How? Biogenesis is a scientific axiom meaning “life proceeds from life.” So what life form originally created the apes or the simple organisms that supposedly evolved into apes? The film runs 2 hours, 29 minutes. GRADE: A-/B+

I saw it for the first time when I was in middle school. I thought it was the worst movie ever. Then, some time later, as an adult, I rewatched it and was amazed at how wonderful it was. It was so beautiful and magnificent that I could not believe it was made in 1968, and I thought it was an unprecedented and solemn historical work, like Goethe's "Faust" in literature, one of the greatest masterpieces of cinema that mankind has ever possessed. First of all, it is a film in which dialogue is reduced to the utmost limit, and even if it had been in black and white, I could have watched it ten times without getting tired of it, regardless of whether I could have endured the "silence. It's Kubrick's magic that you can watch this film without any annoying sound effects like in "Jaws" but with classical music and with your heart rate regulated like in Charlie Chaplin's silent films. I don't know how well this film was received in the U.S. at the time, but in Japan, many people shy away from it, saying it is difficult to understand.

**A magnificent film, with beautiful music and great visuals... but smug, empty and unforgivably overrated.** Stanley Kubrick is, for me, one of those directors who so quickly impresses us with a great film, as it makes us doubt his competence with an absolutely pathetic trash. I know that the director's fans are going to crucify me, but that's how I think, and I even say more: with each Kubrick film I see, I am more convinced that an aura of unjustified “cult” genius has been created around him. I loved some of his movies like “Spartacus”, “Dr. Strangelove”, “Shining” and “Eyes Wide Shut”, but thinking about them and trying to compare them with “Clockwork Orange” and “Full Metal Jacket” is strange. They don't look like the work of the same director. Released in the 1960s, at a time when the space race was at its height and when the future of Humanity seemed, more and more, to be outside our planet, the film addresses the question of the evolution of the human species in a “sui generis” way: it starts with monkeys and goes to the first contacts with extraterrestrial beings. The film was considered one of the defining milestones of sci-fi as a cinematographic genre, and I believe that this is indisputable. It's also one of the rare sci-fi movies that seems concerned with being scientifically credible, yet not without flaws that a good scientist will spot (and we might not). Set in a hypothetical future, the film shows what space explorations and life in colonies made in space and on the Moon would be like. However, it is still ironic that, after the 60s and 70s, space exploration has been so secondary that many questions, even today, whether we really should spend industrial amounts of money and resources on it. The future that Kubrick imagined in 2001 seems, in 2022, even more imaginative and far from happening than when the film was released. However, some things really did happen and are, today, normal: this is the case of video calls and the extraordinary advances in robotics and artificial intelligence. Among the various merits of this film, we have to highlight the extraordinary visual beauty, the way the director worked with the visual and special effects and the excellent camera work. At a time when CGI was a mirage far from a filmmaker's mind, this film gives us images and visuals that look like they were made this year. The film simply hasn't aged a single day: we have clear images, magnificently crafted light and details, excellent sound effects, a cinematography that makes envy to many 21st century films and, also important, a magnificent soundtrack where “Blue Danube” and “Also Sprach Zarathustra” stand out, helping to popularize these melodies. Despite these indisputable merits, I think this film deserves to be on the list of the most overrated films I've ever seen. And this is due, in good part, to everything else that I didn't say, and which is essential in a good film. Let's start with the absence of a script and horrible pace: for almost three hours, the film drags on unbearably in scenes of great beauty, but with nothing to say. It's truly exasperating. The only moments where the film really gains interest are when the ship's supercomputer turns against the astronauts, and even that segment feels loose, as if the script were a patchwork quilt. The allusions to aliens didn't fascinate me either, it's a regular cliché when making a movie set in space. One point that also didn't help is the lack of good actors, or any decent work for them to do, and the fact that Kubrick shows us life on the space stations as if it were a stay in a luxury hotel. And what about the extraordinary sense of arrogant conceit that the film conveys? We are the ones who have to recognize if the film is good, it can't be the film telling us that every minute!

From the opening bars of Richard Strauss's "Also spracht Zarathustra" you just know that this is going to be something unique - and that it is. Apes, playing by a puddle - occasionally engaging in some noisy territorial warfare with their neighbours until one morning, this great black monolith appears. Shortly afterwards these creatures have realised that old bones make new weapons - and that these weapons can kill! The next phase jumps forward four million years later to a mission to Jupiter where a crew of five astronauts under the helpful gaze of their "HAL" computer are making their way across space. Two of them: "Poole" (Gary Lockwood) and "Bowman" (Keir Dullea) are not in hibernation and are regularly engaging with there outwardly affable digital companion. It doesn't take the humans long to conclude that "HAL" might be both malfunctioning and malevolent, and all of a sudden the life of all the people on board becomes precariously balanced. Is "HAL" malfunctioning, or is it fulfilling it's programming and the crew are just not read in? What might that objective be? We know that the monolith has been seen since the apes, what does that mean? What is the symbolism of this perfectly hewn tablet of granite? Kubrick was visionary with this work. It is a tale of evolution, or progress - of intelligence. It doesn't always make immediate sense, but after you've watched it a few times, there are extra ingredients to this potent mix of adventure and intellect that emerge. The ending is a tad surreal for my rather non-lateral-thinking brain, but the trip they take and the trip we take are eventful and thought provoking. Of course, back in 1968 2001 was a lifetime away and obviously none of this came to pass, but if we renamed it 3001 and recalibrated, well I wonder...! Great stuff.

This is the most pretentious crap ever made - but is it an amazing film? No. But it is an amazing _**piece of art**_. This is worthy of the label of film, but the label of film is not worthy of this. Kubrick has crafted a stellar and surreal experience, one of the greatest **_pieces of art_** ever made. Why, you ask, do I obtain from referring to this as a film? Because it is simply not, it is an overpowering sensory experience, not a film. If I seem to be losing my point, here is it straight. It’s too good to be a film. I wouldn’t say this is enjoyable, or entertaining, but it is a stunning experience. One of the greatest **_pieces of art_** ever made. I only lost a point because it’s not a film. Kubrick is often critiqued for his icy cold view of human emotion, and this is no different. The most affecting and human sequence in the film comes ironically (spoilers) from the death of a machine. Check this out, it may not be entertaining, but it IS worth it.

Pleasing on a technical level, even with barely anything to grasp story-wise. <em>'2001: A Space Odyssey'</em> looks and sounds exquisite, it really is seriously impressive in that regard for a film from 1968. That is, however, the only reason that this gets a passing rating from me if I'm to be totally truthful. The plot itself is rather disappointing, with not much meat on the bones. I get it's evidently going for the more artsy approach, made clear by the lack of dialogue/bona fide narrative alongside plenty of ambiguity. It's a Stanley Kubrick film after all, not that I've seen much of his work (this be the first, in fact); moreso what I've heard through the grapevine down the years. There are also a lot of long held, empty-feeling (as intended, I'd imagine) shots that bothered me throughout. It just didn't entice me, that's all. I can still respect it. Given the aforementioned, the cast are basically nonentities - as harsh as that may sound. Douglas Rain does a good job, in fairness, and William Sylvester is alright. I can't say I blame those onscreen all that much, as they aren't exactly given much opportunity to showcase themselves. As has been the case with a couple of other movies down the years, I'm certainly content to file this one with the 'I clearly didn't get it and I'm cool with that' tag. I'm still glad I watched it. I do appreciate it, if only technically, and naturally love that others love it.

Seeing _2001: A Space Odyssey_ on the big screen for the first time is an eye-opener. The vastness of space, the eerily precise shots of the spacecraft, and the careful pacing all come to life in a way a TV could never match. The immersive sound design, from the opening hum to the famous orchestral music, and in particular the equally orchestrated silence filling the cinema, makes you feel like you're part of the journey. Details that might seem faint on a smaller screen are clear and striking here: the textures of the spacesuits, the contrast in colours, and the scale of Kubrick's vision. This unique visual and auditory experience in a cinema is a must for any film enthusiast, as it genuinely lets the film's grandeur and mystery sink in.