Emperor's New Clothes
For starters, I guess I'm similar in some ways to the "ADHD, new-age adolescents" that so many of you reviewers describe. I'm 21, I actually DO have ADHD, and my favorite genre is the comedy. And as a writer, that's basically all I write: deliberately cheesy comedies.

But contrary to what is implied by so many of you, I am totally and completely capable of understanding and appreciating a good, deep film or book. I'm a big fan of A Clockwork Orange (not for the shock value, but for the way it made me examine my views on crime and punishment), as well as other, non-Kubrick films such as Mulholland Dr., The Aviator, Unbreakable, etc. And I'm a big fan of the book 1984.

But I can't stand this film, and I'm sick of hearing everybody rave about it, so I feel compelled to protest. It was beautiful when the ape learned how to kill, and the part at the end where the astronaut sees himself go through all stages of life was mesmerizing. But... that was about it. Yeah, I'll admit it: I was bored! Very, very bored. Sure, everything LOOKED very beautiful, but so what? Where's the plot? Where's the underlying message? I keep hearing everybody talk about the "significance," but nobody seems to actually know what that "significance" is. (And bear in mind that I'm referring to the meaning of the film, not the technological breakthroughs.)

Even Stanley Kubrick himself basically said that the film is meaningless. He said that the meaning of it is "up to the viewers," which is the artistic way of saying, "I made a purely experimental film with absolutely no story line, and in order to pass it off as a work of genius, I'm going to pretend that it has some subtle, underlying meaning that even I can't specifically identify." Which I'm not blaming him for; that's a really smart way to market a film. But I'm not buying it.

This is the kind of film that you're expected to like because it's an "intellectual film," and if it just so happens that you DON'T like it, then you must be some kind of idiot or ignoramus. So, naturally, most people "like" it. And I'll admit that I'm tempted to say that I like it as well, just to look good. But I'm going to be like the kid in the "Emperor's New Clothes" fable and point out that, obviously, the king isn't wearing anything.

I'm giving it two stars because, in some ways, this film WAS revolutionary. It experimented in portraying things solely with pictures, and it helped pioneer new special effects, among other things. But THAT IS IT. This is the kind of movie you watch once, then wonder why you couldn't have found a better means of killing 2.5 hours, and then avoid seeing ever again at all costs. Sorry guys, but I'm calling BS on this movie...

Winnmusic
This new 2007 Digital Transfer is the best home video version I have ever seen. Crystal Clear Quality even down to the correct aspect ratio that Stanley originally intended. The original print was not in 2.35 Anamorphic Widescreen. It was the same aspect ratio that was used in Clockwork Orange and Barry Lyndon. All the special features on the other disc is an absolute must too!

I think the quality is so good it looks like it was made yesterday! and I think if Stanley was around today he would have given 2 thumbs up!

Highly recommend to any fan of this film and must for classic film collectors.

Mesmerizing, Not Boring
Here's what stood out to me:

1. The music. On the one hand, duh. On the other, have you actually listened to "On the Beautiful Blue Danube" recently? It's 10+ minutes of constant enjoyment -- every melody is beautiful. Of course, another Strauss also has his moments. What most intrigued me, though, were the selections by György Ligeti. I don't usually appreciate atonal or unmelodic pieces, but the "monolith theme" is an awesome blend of the haunting, intense, and otherworldly. Notably, Kubrick commissioned a score by Alex North but then decided to use the classical recordings he had been playing during production -- without telling North.

2. The new bone. At the end of "The Dawn of Man" chapter, the triumphant tool-user throws his tapir bone (which he just used to beat the life out of a rival hominid) into the air, and the scene artfully cuts from the bone to its modern counterpart: a white, cylindrical nuclear device orbiting the earth. That's deep. Or maybe I'm just a sucker for a good transition.

3. The visual realism. The space exploration special effects hold up remarkably well considering that the film turns 40(!) this year. Not only do they look realistic, they also illustrate Kubrick's attention to procedural detail. He uses extended shots of relatively mundane activities in order to give us a sense of what it's like in the vacuum and how exactly people get things done.

4. The computer. HAL's got a great voice (he's going to sing "Fitter Happier" in my remake). And his lines aren't half-bad, either. If only his shipmates weren't so wooden and...mechanical. (Was Kubrick trying to say something about astronauts -- that the government preferred unimaginative military men to a fault?) If I were on board, I'd've picked his brain nonstop. A conscious computer would never get old. Forget chess -- imagine having a conversation about philosophy, or anything else for that matter. What would you talk about?

5. The end. What's the deal? The protracted light show screams "we've got to do something with all these FX shots," especially when the colored landscapes kick in after what I thought would be the climax (when everything appears to be culminating in a burst of white light). And then there's the bizarre room sequence. I won't spoil it; I'll just speculate: is this how the aliens wanted Dave to perceive his transformation? Or is it Kubrick reminding us that 2001 is an art film, infinitely beyond trashy sci-fi?

Graduate College Student
I purchased this movie because it is supposedly one of the greatest American Films ever made and I enjoyed the book immensely. The movie itself was visually stunning and the direction of Kubrick was great. I found the storyline lacking from what the novel presented, however. The movie would not have made much sense if I had not read the book. That's why I only rated it three stars.

Humanization, Dehumanization & Super-humanization
Much (perhaps too much) has been written about this beautiful yet sluggish, frustrating yet fascinating film. So I'll put in my nickel's worth (used to be two-cents'-worth, but inflation has hit everything these days) of speculation.

It's all in the title of this review. 2001, it seems to me, can be encapsulated in these 3 words.

First, the humanization comes when the Monolith appears to our anthropoid ancestors and nudges them to the next evolutionary level by teaching them the use of tools (ironically, specifically the use of weapons and the art of killing).

Next, we cut to the just-past-millennial year of the film's title and learn that humans are emotionally isolated (note the strained awkwardness of Dr. Floyd's birthday message to his daughter and the utterly cold unconcern with with Frank Poole receives his parents' taped birthday greetings). Nearly all the verbal communication concerns either empty formalities or technical data. Man has been dehumanized by his technological dependence. Also note that the distrust and tension between the superpowers of the USA and the USSR continue the theme of the feuding tribes of man-apes in the film's beginning.

It is then that the second Monolith is found on the moon, buried there as though its alien makers did not want it found unless humanity became technologically advanced enough to leave its cradle world. This, obviously, is based on Arthur C. Clarke's "The Sentinel," but I'd like to take the idea a little further. Perhaps the Monolith's makers knew that someday mankind's dependence on its technological tools would go too far, and they left an alarm to signal them when mankind reached this state. Which takes us to the next level.

When Bowman (notably, the only human being who shows any hint of an inner life beyond the mastering of technical equipment: note his attempts at sketching the spaceship, stiff and awkward as they are) reaches the Star Gate triggered by the third Monolith in Jupiter orbit, has his mind expanded and his life expended in seeing just a tiny corner of infinity's vastness, and then is recreated as the Star-Child (who must be a super-human being of some sort, or nothing in the film has any point)he returns to earth. My guess is that he intends (or is intended by those who have transfigured him) to nudge the rest of us up to his level -- or our descendants, anyway.

Anyway, when I view the film with all this in mind, it all makes sense, including the thoroughly banal dialogue which so many critics have ridiculed, possibly missing the point that it was supposed to be banal to reflect the human condition in this stage of history. The older classical music, like the "Blue Danube Waltz", can be viewed as ironic (products of an earlier, more simplistic age with its clockwork music reflecting its view of the clockwork cosmos shattered by the 20th century's discovery of quantum mechanics and relativity and now, superstring theory) or else as a reflection of humanity's innate longing for logic and order and its clinging to the dead-but-beautiful past even as we're hurled pell-mell into the future. (Like the intertribal hatred of different groups of man-apes, more with us than ever these days!)

Whether we'll live to reach the year 3000 is debatable, but one thing is certain. Arguments about 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY will take us to the next millennium without any consensus being reached.

One final amusing note: 2001 has at least predicted the invention of the Kindle text-download screen in its "Newspad", which Bowman and Poole use while they're eating their space-baby-food meals.