2001: A Space Odyssey, Stanley Kubrick (1968)
- Laura Bailey
- Nov 4, 2018
- 4 min read
Updated: Mar 3, 2019
Now we can see the same narratives and philosophies present in films such as Blade Runner, Her, Ex Machina and even in TV series such as Westworld.

Science Fiction has always meant for me dealing with existential reflection, prescient narratives and harboured fears for the future of mankind, along with an abundance of symbolism. I think 2001: A Space Odyssey is the reason for this and the impetus for a string of deeply prescient science fiction films that came after and are still being made today. The film was for a long time my favourite, as I shared with it all the same questions about the nature of existence and the cosmos. Never before 2001 had science fiction been so ambitious nor innovative in the big 4 areas of Hollywood productions: cinematography, soundtrack, CGI and alternative narrative. Some critique that the film has not aged well but there is no doubt it’s legacy lives on in Sci-fi films today, if not wider cinema generally. The following is an analysis of the themes and philosophies which 2001 deals with. Kubrick began his career as a talented photographer and this shows no more than in the complex ideas conveyed in 2001’s cinematography. I could criticise Kubrick for his overuse of subliminal imagery which only esoteric or highly perceptive viewers can notice. For this reason, 2001 is a little too cryptic for viewers seeking a mere spectacle. However, if we understand the film as a whole, it may be realised that the film itself is largely about symbolism. Whether the subliminal images are understood is preferable perhaps, but negligible so long as the grander narrative presents itself. I believe Kubrick attempts to achieve this through more tacit means. First of all through its soundtrack which transpires to be the vessel of the film and second of all through composition which serves as our tunnel. The film opens first with a requiem playing and a blank screen; black and rectangular. The same music is played whenever we meet the mysterious monolith; interestingly also black and rectangular. Kubrick here is tacitly analogising the viewer’s emotions when anticipating the film to begin and when the monolith appears. (This effect of matching the senses with the image is in my view the work of great cinema.) If we literally look outside the box, we can then deduce the meaning of the unexplained unmoving monolith; it is in fact the blank movie screen. Kubrick here is communicating to the audience that in order to interpret the meaning of the film and indeed the ominous monolith, one must look ‘outside the screen’ and acknowledge that they themselves are a part of the film because they too are challenged with having to create its meaning. The fact that the monolith stands portrait instructs us that we only need to turn our heads and look with a different perspective to understand. So, even though one may not understand the symbolism or subliminal imagery, Kubrick’s existential instruction is that we are free to make up our own interpretations.
The Space Odyssey is ultimately an allegorical odyssey of man’s evolution. Every time we see the monolith, a new step in man’s evolution takes place in the narrative. Kubrick, again communicates this tacitly through composition with for example, the image of the bone tool being thrown into the air. Perhaps one of the most iconic images in cinematic history. The image is transitioned using a graphic match in which Kubrick cuts to an image of a spaceship with the same framing and composition. Because both images act as symbols, this also symbolises the evolution of language, signifying the human leap into the symbolic. The film medium is indeed itself, as Kubrick is bringing to the attention of the viewer with the monolith, a part of that language evolution.
The film is also a kind of admonition to mankind advising us to relinquish our obsession with order and to accept the chaotic nature of the universe. Of course, the oppressing force of the "computer" in society is one that stares us in the face much like the way HAL's omnipotent eye does. Everything the characters do is unnatural and dependent on the computer such as simple tasks like eating and going to the toilet. When Frank Poole runs round Discovery One, it is almost as if he runs in a hamster wheel under the control the machine. Whilst man becomes dependent on his creation, the ‘computer’ subsequently ascertains its own authority in the vane of becoming the next evolved being. Man's creation becomes his successor. What Kubrick seeks for man, represented by David Bowman, is a cosmology in which we can conceive of an escape from all this order. Bowman does this by switching off HAL’s higher brain functions in a highly suspenseful and drawn out scene. Bowman has now reached the next step in man’s evolution by relinquishing the chain of his own creation. He now must venture through the stargate across space and time to revert back to the beginning. An array of different patterns and colours journey past which is altogether confusing and mysteriousness to the audience. But then something interesting happens, the light display shifts from landscape to portrait. Kubrick literally asks us to turn our heads and realize the true meaning of the monolith. At the end, the mirror image between the star child and earth symbolises man's assimilation into deity as he becomes the god of a new earth and the odyssey of man's evolution begins again. 2001 may seem to be quite cerebral and cumbersome but I believe Kubrick executes his narrative in such a tacit way that often confused viewers feel a strange sense of luring towards where the film is taking them. Now we can see the same narratives and philosophies present in films such as Blade Runner, Her, Ex Machina and even in TV series such as Westworld. All are touching upon a very contemporary fear underlying modern society; the fear of our own creations and a collective understanding that we must overcome their constraints.
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