|
 
|
 |
2001: A Space Odyssey
(1969) 
Review
This immensely slow and extravagant 1968
production was Stanley Kubrick’s response to his global breakthrough with
Dr. Strangelove four years earlier. 2001: A Space Odyssey
shows a filmmaker
unafraid to abandon convention, trading narrative drive for visual
poetry and conceptual audacity – and
perhaps more than in any of his other works, he follows his own path
with absolute conviction.
The film opens with a nearly twenty-minute, almost non-narrative
sequence set before humankind’s arrival on Earth – a mesmerizing
depiction of evolution and primal existence. It establishes not only the
film’s philosophical scope but also its stylistic ambitions. Kubrick
plays with time, with long, deliberate takes, geometric precision, and
an almost obsessive sense of visual symmetry. Dialogue is sparse;
meaning arises through image, rhythm, and sound. In lesser hands, this
would become monotonous and pretentious, but
Kubrick sustains an uncanny tension and relevance throughout. Rather
than bore us, he hypnotises us – and what might seem opaque becomes
oddly compelling. 2001 poses grand, elusive questions about existence
and technology, about the human relationship to creation and control.
Its musings on man and machine feel prophetic even today. Keir Dullea
and Gary Lockwood, both
relative unknowns at the time, bring an eerie restraint to their
performances that perfectly matches Kubrick’s vision. Their calm
detachment heightens the film’s unease and sense of isolation. 2001:
A Space Odyssey is a film to be approached with reverence. It asks
for patience but rewards you with awe – a journey
through image and sound unlike anything else in cinema.
Copyright
© 30.08.1999 Fredrik Gunerius Fevang
(English version: © 27.10.2025 Fredrik Gunerius Fevang) |
|
_150w.jpg)
