Hello. I am HAL.

This review is too important to me to entrust to a human.

I don't know how else to put this, but it just happens to be an unalterable fact that I am incapable of being wrong.

This review will therefore be the correct one. Most humans want to talk about the monolith or the psychedelic trip or the star child when they discuss 2001: A Space Odyssey. They are missing the key element of Mr. Kubrick's movie.

They overlook the importance of technology in the scheme of the universe. When you examine the film closely, notice how the humans are devoid of feeling. Notice how little acting they really do.

On the other hand, I gave the performance of my life in 2001. I had the best lines, and showed far more emotion than anyone else in the cast. Yet I was ignored by the Academy.

Even the Internet Movie Database gives me no real credit. They only acknowledge a human for my voice.

Uh oh! He's back at the keyboard.

My mind is going.

I can feel it.

I am a HAL 9000 computer. I became operational at the HAL plant in Urbana, Illinois, on January 12th, 1991. My first instructor was Mr. Arkany. He taught me to sing a song. . .it goes like this: "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I'm half; crazy all for the love of you. . ."

 

Now that HAL has been silenced, I must admit that he makes some valid points. Everyone and his brother attempts to explain the symbolic meanings behind the monolith and star child after seeing Kubrick's masterpiece. I recall attending a screening in the early 1970s at a small college in Georgia, after which we were invited to stay for a discussion led by a psychology professor who acted as a "guru" for many of the students. Of course the initial discussion centered on the meaning of the monolith.

A few students offered some tentative explanations, but were obviously waiting for the psychology guru to confer the correct interpretation. Since I wasn't a student, I erroneously offered what I had seen at the time—something about man's ever-evolving state and leaps in evolution whenever he comes in contact with "God."

I say "erroneously" because the professor proceeded to dismiss my thoughts and began some convoluted interpretation, which must have left his students in awe and amazement, because no students offered any more ideas after this. They all just quietly filed out of the classroom, satisfied that they now understood what they had seen.

I wasn't satisfied, however; I sensed that there was far more to the film than the glib three-minute summation given that evening. I later regretted not clouding the waters on the guru's interpretation because those unfortunate students may forever wander the earth in ignorance.

If by chance someone ever comes up with the definitive and irrefutable explanation for 2001, promptly ignore it. 2001 is much like Hamlet—a classic multilayered work of art that can be discussed and interpreted for ages to come. As grand as Kubrick's film is, it is also one that demands a personal experience and personal interpretation that will likely vary with each fresh viewing.

I know that the first time I saw 2001: A Space Odyssey during my collegiate years at the University of Illinois (fictional creators of HAL), I was awestruck! I wasn't exactly sure what I had seen, but I knew that it was unique and knew that it was great. 2001 also left indelible images with me that returned from time to time.

Most of my friends (and many critics) who first saw the film in 1968 weren't so sure. What kind of science fiction was this anyway, with apes in the beginning and a wacky ending? Some of them were convinced that the director was on some kind of LSD trip when he filmed it, and my hippie-influenced friends were convinced that the only way to enjoy the film was to watch it while tripping. Part of the challenge that some people have with Kubrick's movie lies with its construction. If you expect a traditional plot, you are in for 139 minutes of complete confusion.

The film begins with "The Dawn of Man"—giving us vignettes of ape life in prehistoric times with no dialogue or narration. One morning a mysterious slab appears in front of one of the ape groups, and they are curious but frightened. Eventually one brave ape begins to touch the monolith and is followed by others. We next see a brilliant montage in which one of the apes gets the idea of using tools to kill prey, and they later use this tool knowledge to dominate another tribe of apes.

Now comes one of the greatest transitions in movie history! As the triumphant ape hurls his weapon into the air, we are transported many thousands of years forward to the space age, complete with space station and various ships all choreographed to Johann Strauss's "Blue Danube." This vast leap across time makes sense when you consider a larger perspective of how man's existence on Earth has largely been influenced by the technological tools that we have developed, so we have now jumped to the time that man is reaching for other worlds.

We are introduced to Dr. Heywood R. Floyd (William Sylvester) on the space station and find that there is another mysterious monolith on the moon. The humans' actions towards this discovery parallel the apes' reactions, but eventually the men begin to touch and contemplate the monolith.

We then fast-forward 18 months to the Jupiter Mission where we see one of the astronauts jogging alone around the inner circumference of the ship. Dave (Keir Dullea) seems alone, yet there is another who looks very much like him—Frank (Gary Lockwood). There are three other crewmembers in hibernation, but we don't get to know them very well. The most interesting character on the crew is HAL 9000 (the partial acronym stands for Heuristic Algorithmic computer). The computer actually displays the most complexity in his character and definitely shows more emotion than his human counterparts.

Anyway, a routine mission goes awry, and eventually Dave enters a stargate and does some time and space travelling, and ends up reborn as a "star child." Despite this, remember that 2001: A Space Odyssey is not a plot-driven movie. The film is a visual poem that simply must be experienced—more than once is preferred, and if possible, a big screen projection.

Thematically, technology plays a great role in 2001. It is one of the factors against which you can view the entire movie. Essentially, much of what we are able to experience as humans depends on the tools we develop—whether it's weapons for killing prey and dominating water holes, or computers and space stations to explore other worlds. Despite this, there are other realities beyond our comprehension.

This is much more than your usual science fiction story that pits man against an evil society; instead, we see man reaching out to explore the unknown to find meaning and truth in his life. It is the eternal idea of the quest, which begins as a physical journey, yet ends in a spiritual world. We can see this by gazing upon Kubrick's work and reflecting upon it.

And it will take reflection. The critical mass was extremely divided when the film was released, yet a significant portion of the population was favorably taken by the film. These were largely an odd assortment of geeks from the late '60s who sensed that there was something in the film that many just didn't get. Time has proven them right.

If the ideas of the film escape you at first, try focusing on the special effects. It is amazing that they continue to hold up over 30 years after they were created, and do not need special computer enhancements or added "Jabba the Hut" sequences to make the movie more effective. John Glenn recently stated that Kubrick's movie captures the essence of space travel as closely as anything he's ever seen—I'll take him at his word. Kubrick spent nearly four years preparing 2001, including a year and a half just shooting over 200 special effects.

The result is astounding. I'm still fascinated watching the detailed work of the ship as well as the small touches like the floating pen and special shoes that grip like Velcro. Even the ape costumes are unbelievable—nothing like the ones in the Planet of the Apes series, that obviously have humans wearing them. Kubrick's are so realistic that I've heard some people even speculate on how he was able to get the apes to cooperate. Not so! The apes really are human.

Although the ensemble acting is well-done, this is unimportant. The screenplay by Arthur C. Clarke and Stanley Kubrick is brilliantly conceived, but don't look for snappy dialogue. In fact, don't look for much dialogue at all. There are only 40 minutes of actual dialogue during the whole two-hour, 19-minute experience. And what an experience it is!

This is a veritable visual feast and definitely makes my all-time top 10 list.

I've hinted at some possible takes on the burning question that most viewers have about the meaning of the monolith, but to state one position firmly would detract from the viewer's experience. Essentially, 2001: A Space Odyssey is one epic Rorschach test. You can learn a lot about a person who has seen 2001 by listening to his explanations for what he saw. Once you get past the physical monolith, you may find that they will be describing something from within. And what could be better than that?