Tag Archives: 2001:A Space Odyssey

[July 6, 1968] 2001: A Space Odyssey: more than just a film?

With New Worlds magazine currently in creative limbo, I’ve found myself with time on my hands this month. The good news then is that I’ve been able to use this time in getting hold of an early copy of a book I’ve been wanting to read for ages from one of my favourite authors – 2001: A Space Odyssey.

You may have seen or at least heard of the movie – I still haven't seen it, sadly – but what about the book?

This one is special, as the cover clearly states. This is a novel, not a novelisation. Unlike a novelisation, which is usually based on the already-written script, the plot of this novel is a collaboration between the film director Stanley Kubrick and SF author Arthur C. Clarke.

Arthur C. Clarke (left) and Stanley Kubrick (right) on the set of the movie.

I know that films often change between novel and script, so I’ll be interested to see how similar they are. I’ve been told that an early version of the novel was put together as long ago as 1964, before any film was in the can, but at the moment I have no idea how similar the finished novel version is to the earlier version of the novel – or indeed to the film!

OK. To the book then. It begins with something that I can imagine as a voiceover in a movie, with rather attention-grabbing prose:

“Behind every man now alive stand thirty ghosts, for that is the ratio by which the dead outnumber the living. Since the dawn of time, roughly a hundred billion human beings have walked the planet Earth.”

Typical Clarke – one of those ‘wow’ facts that create a sense of wonder and give a context before getting to the meat of the plot. It sets the scene for the first part of the book, where we meet Moon-Watcher, a man-ape from the ‘Dawn of Time’, thousands of years ago.

Moon-Watcher’s life is pretty straightforward, then, even if life is hard – he hunts with his tribe, he eats, sleeps, and he mates, but occasionally will look up at the stars and the Moon and wonder about bigger things. Daily foraging has variable results, usually for the worst. We are never allowed to forget that Moon-Watcher can be hunted by other animals as well as hunt himself.

One night a mysterious slab of rock – the “New Rock” – appears in the group’s valley. Moon-Watcher touches it but as it is not food, it is pretty much dismissed by him and the rest of his group. However, at this point we get a glimpse of the fact that it is an alien machine. The following day the slab sends out a sound, which immobilises the group who are investigating the rock.
Moon-Watcher and his tribe, from the movie.

Although they do not realise it themselves, the monolith tests the man-apes and educates them. The effect on Moon-Watcher in particular is profound. He kills a leopard and then leads a fight against a rival group, the Others, using weapons.

The book then abruptly moves forward a few hundred thousand years and we find ourselves observing Dr. Heywood Floyd, Chairman of the National Council of Astronautics on a trip to the Moon. Journeying to the Moon seems as straightforward as me or you climbing onboard an airliner.

At this point we are in traditional Clarke-writing territory. The prose is in the usual calm, even detached manner of Clarke’s usual text. It is straightforward, direct and yet suffused with typical Clarke wry humour, such as his description on how to use a space toilet!

A startlingly good image of "Man on the Moon". (From the movie.)

Floyd is on the Moon is to see at first-hand an object known as TMA-1 discovered by the Americans in Tycho Crater. And here we seem to have a recycled idea. TMA-1 is an alien artifact that Floyd and his team are trying to determine the identity and origin of. Looking through my Clarke stories, I find that this is similar to the story Sentinel of Eternity, published in 1953, which describes a similar event on the Moon. It’s clearly an idea that appealed to both Kubrick and Clarke, as if an idea’s good, it’s worth using more than once, right?

Much is made of the point that there is clearly tension between the U.S. and the Soviet sections of the Moon base. Outposts are being denied outside communications with Earth, and political tensions mean that outside the scientific community missiles are being primed between the U.S., the Soviets, and the Chinese. (Oddly though there is no mention of British involvement. Perhaps Peter Sellers in Dr.Strangelove has put them off?)

Throughout all of this part, Clarke describes the practicalities of a Moon-living lifestyle, how people travel, work and eat as this “first generation of the Spaceborn”. This sort of thing is Clarke’s bread-and-butter, and he clearly relishes spending time describing and explaining what this future Lunar lifestyle is like.

Floyd’s arrival at the object leads to it reacting. A message leaves the object and travels out to the stars.

The story then leaps forward a few more years, to what is presumably the year 2001. The actions of the object have led to a galvanising of efforts from Earth. The result is the Discovery, a spaceship built and sent to Saturn after the detection of another magnetic anomaly, obviously named TMA-2.

The Discovery. From the movie.

Most of the crew are in suspended animation for the journey that will take months. We focus upon the two astronauts left awake at this point in the story, Frank Poole and Dave Bowman. There is also the HAL-9000 computer, running all of the day-to-day mechanics of the ship.

The 'eye' of the ever-so-polite but flawed HAL-9000, from the movie. Are Kubrick and Clarke trying to tell us something of British manners?

All seems well. Life on board the spaceship seems actually quite boring and repetitive.

The fly in the ointment is that the never-failed supercomputer begins to act badly. Initially unbeknownst to Bowman and Frank Poole, HAL switches off the life support of the crewmembers in suspended animation, thus killing them. Eventually faults become more noticeable to the two crew, and when Poole is sent outside the ship to fix a communications antenna that doesn’t need fixing, they become aware that their infallible computer may be making errors.

The consequences of this are huge. As an artificial intelligence, HAL realises that the two men know that something is wrong and takes steps to deal with it. In the end, as Discovery approaches TMA-2 at Japetus, Bowman has to take a leap of faith and leave the ship in order to take a closer look at the anomaly. This leads to a Bowman taking a journey through the Eye of Japetus and the ambiguous ending of the novel:

” Then he waited, marshaling his thoughts and brooding over his still untested powers. For though he was master of the world, he was not quite sure what to do next.


But he would think of something.“

The full wraparound dustjacket from New American Library. Artwork by Robert McColl.

First of all, on finishing the book, I can see that this is clearly a Clarke novel. His practical descriptions of the spaceships, transport and the Moon base feel like they are straight out of his own British Interplanetary Society handbook.

However, as much fun reading about these details is, the emphasis of the novel on the big picture is also typically Clarke-ean. It is about ‘the big picture’, to which the characters are but a minor part in a story covering millions of years.

I liked the fact that HAL the computer is clearly not just a machine but also a character in the novel, but it did make me think whether HAL as a misfunctioning computer is a plea by Clarke not to blindly accept technology? Or perhaps the point is being made that for all of HAL’s sophistication and intelligence, humans are better?

I understand that there has been a lot of discussion about what the end of the movie means, because this ending creates a lot of unanswered questions. It seems to have taken on an almost mystical status by film-watchers. To me, the main point of the novel 2001 seems to be about human evolution, albeit evolution uplifted by an alien (a link to Clarke’s novel Childhood’s End, perhaps?)

This sounds like perhaps this is a benevolent action. Clarke being Clarke, it seems (although that it is not clear) that it is for the greater good, some altruistic act, “passing it forward” as Robert Heinlein says.

2001 may be seen as a plea for tolerance. Clarke’s distaste for war and violence is palpable throughout, although perhaps seen as a necessary evil. What the books seems to be telling me is that for all of our Earthly political and ideological divisions, the fighting and war and even the social inequality, Clarke (and presumably Kubrick) have taken what is the best of Humanity and shown us in 2001 that as a collective race we can be bigger, better and something more than what in context can be seen as our petty squabbles. There are no nasty villains here – even HAL has a twisted logic for his actions. Actually, the characters – even HAL! – are unfailingly polite to each other, even when they disagree, for we are looking at higher morals and ideas here instead.

To get there though will not be easy. Do we as a race need someone, or something, to hold our hand in order to not make mistakes and improve for the greater good? I got the feeling at the end that this was not only right but necessary for human evolution, and that Clarke (and/or Kubrick!) feels that we are on a long journey of advancement through time – an odyssey of the highest order.

But the actual reasons for these events are unknown. We do not know why the aliens are doing this – is it altruistic, or is there some other reason for it? Are we naïve to think that this is possibly good? Are such actions to enslave us or free us?

Clarke deliberately leaves it open for us to ponder upon, like Moon-Watcher, wondering what comes next. There is no clear, happy ending, instead the dawning of a new age. There are as many questions raised as answered. And in that respect, I think that the ending is entirely appropriate.

It is perhaps this idea that makes 2001 Clarke’s best and most ambitious work to date. This is not the mid-life crisis opinions of a venerable SF writer set in a novel. (I’m looking at you, Stranger in a Strange Land.) 2001 is definitely not New Wave, nor fancy in style, it does not test or break the boundaries of literature, science fiction or fiction.

Those who dislike Clarke’s minimalist characterisation and his low-key, understated and sardonic style will not be swayed into praise by reading this book, although I loved it. The big (and frankly amazing!) images are left to the big screen via Kubrick, whilst Clarke gives us the nuts-and-bolts story, a big story told in such a matter-of-fact manner that the future seems possible and cautiously optimistic. I can accept that this view may be a little simplistic and naïve. I’m fairly sure that writers such as Samuel Delany will find little here that relates to them or their writing.

But for me 2001 (the novel, at least) is typical Clarke, in that in its own understated way it gives us a practical future against an epic timeline and at the same time has a distinctly humanitarian plot and a lot of unanswered questions.

Perhaps most of all, 2001 poses the ultimate science-fictional question, “What if?” This is clearly a long way away from the exploding planets and speeding spaceships of Space Opera that many of the general readership perceive SF to be. It is a sign of quality that it is a book I have had to think about – a lot – since I finished reading it. I haven't seen the film yet (although I know that some of my esteemed colleagues have!), but if the film is anything like this, I suspect I will enjoy it also.

[April 26, 1968] 2001: A Space Odyssey: Three Views

A Trip To Tomorrowland?


by Fiona Moore

People who don’t like trippy, confusing endings for their movies are in for a bad time of it these days. The ending of 2001: A Space Odyssey at least makes more sense than the ending of The Prisoner (the filming of which series overlapped with 2001 at Borehamwood Studios, meaning Alexis Kanner had to share his dressing room with a leopard). The question is, does this make it a better piece of SF visual art?

No, I don't know either.
No, I don't know either.

The plot of the movie is fairly thin. Millions of years ago, we see human evolution directed by a strange black monolith, in a premise strikingly similar to that of the recently-released Quatermass and the Pit. We then jump to the near future of 2001, where a similar monolith is discovered on the moon and another near Jupiter. A space mission is dispatched to check the latter out, but things go wrong in a memorable subplot when the sentient ship's computer, HAL 9000, goes mad and kills the astronauts before sole survivor Dave Bowman finally shuts it down. The psychedelic denouement contains the distinct implication that the next stage of human evolution has now been directed by the monoliths, and Bowman has become the first of the new species of elevated humans.

The monolith near Jupiter, about to mess with your head.
The monolith near Jupiter, about to mess with your head.

Interspersed with the plot is a lot of depiction of the future thirty-three years from now, with its space stations, ships and moonbases. Despite some very impressive and well-thought-through effects, with actors seeming to stand upside down or move at right angles to each other in zero-G environments, the overall impression was depressingly banal and rather like one of the corporate-sponsored imagined futures in Walt Disney’s Tomorrowland attraction. We may be able to travel to the moon, but we still have Hilton hotels and Pan-Am spacecraft. The characters are also banal, in the case of Keir Dullea and Gary Lockwood almost to the point of seeming robotic: HAL is much more of a character than either of the two astronaut dolls.

Captain Scarlet is much more animated than these two.
Captain Scarlet is much more animated than these two.

As an anthropologist, what interested me most was the film’s questions about violence and human nature. The message seemed to be that humans are inherently violent, however evolved we are: the first thing the ape-men at the start of the movie do once they discover tool use is to kill a tapir and then make war on a rival tribe. Bowman’s last significant act as a human is to kill a sentient machine, and we have no idea what the evolved Bowman will do as he approaches the Earth. While the current scientific consensus on the inherent violence of humans is more nuanced (I note that the film also espouses the now-outdated theory about the first tools being discarded bones, suggesting that Arthur C. Clarke isn’t as up on his anthropology as he is on his astrophysics), it perhaps works well as a cautionary note about our current political situation and the possibility that we might wipe ourselves out through nuclear warfare.

Raymond Dart came up with this theory in 1924; we're over it, Arthur.
Raymond Dart came up with this theory in 1924, we're over it, Arthur.

2001 is a beautiful and lyrical movie which raises some interesting questions about the nature of humanity, but which also bogs itself down in the dull minutiae of an imagined life in the future. Three out of five stars.


Love At First Sight


by Victoria Silverwolf

Unlike Tony Bennett, I left my heart in Los Angeles.

I happened to be in that city during the initial run of Stanley Kubrick's new science fiction epic 2001: A Space Odyssey. I understand that the director has cut the film slightly, to tighten the pace a bit and to add a few titles to the various sequences. (The Dawn of Man at the beginning, for example.) What I saw was the original version, and it knocked me out.

Instead of just gushing about the movie, let me introduce you to the little demon sitting on my left shoulder, who will do its best to convince me I'm wrong.

Giving the Devil Its Due

ZZZZZZZ. Oh, excuse me. I fell asleep trying to watch this thing. It's got the frenzied pace of a glacier in winter and all the excitement of a snail race.

Cute. Real cute. Some people are going to consider it boring, I'm sure, compared to an action-packed film like Planet of the Apes. But that's a matter of apples and oranges. I found every second of this leisurely movie absolutely enthralling.

No accounting for taste. What about the actors? What a bunch of bland nobodies! They could be replaced with wet pieces of cardboard and you wouldn't know the difference.

First of all, let me deny the premise of your objection in at least two cases. During the Dawn of Man sequence, a fellow by the name of Daniel Richter does an extraordinary job of playing the prehistoric hominoid who discovers how to use tools. (Of course, this character isn't named in the movie itself, but I believe the script by Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke calls him Moonwatcher. We'll know for sure when the novel comes out.)


Not even the demon can deny that the makeup and costuming for this sequence is fantastic, better than in Planet of the Apes.

Then there's my favorite character, HAL 9000. Canadian stage actor Douglas Rain's voice is used to magnificent effect. It's exactly how I expect a sentient computer to talk.


Like everything else in the film, the design of HAL's eye is superb.

OK, I'll grant you those two. And I'll even throw in the costumes, sets, and props that appear in this turkey. But what about the actors who aren't hiding in a monkey suit or behind a glowing red circle? They're as dull as ditchwater.

Unlike Kubrick's black comedy masterpiece Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, this film doesn't have any big name stars in the cast. I think that's deliberate. Nobody is larger-than-life; they all seem like very ordinary people involved in something extraordinary.

Let's take a look at the three main human characters.


William Sylvester as Doctor Heywood R. Floyd.

William Sylvester was born in the USA but has lived and acted in the UK since the late 1940's. He's done a lot of British low budget films. I know him best for his lead roles in the horror films Devil Doll and Devils of Darkness.

Ha! And that gives him the experience to star in a multimillion dollar blockbuster? You've been watching too much Shock Theater, lady.

I can't deny that, but let me continue. Consider the two astronauts aboard Discovery in the depths of the solar system.


From left to right, Gary Lockwood as Doctor Frank Poole and Keir Dullea as Doctor Dave Bowman.

Gary Lockwood has done a lot of TV, and had the lead role in the fantasy film The Magic Sword. Keir Dullea has been in a few movies, and is probably best known for playing one of the two title characters in David and Lisa.

Let me guess; he didn't play Lisa. Anyway, you've just offered up two more minor league players. You're making my point for me. Where are the famous actors who would dominate the screen?

That's the problem. They would dominate the screen, and this is a movie best appreciated for its images and its ideas. You want to escape into its world, and think I am looking at the future and not There's Charlton Heston.

Point taken. So what about that goofy ending? What's that supposed to be, a San Francisco hippie psychedelic light show? Groovy, baby, pass the LSD!

I won't deny that the final sequence of the movie is ambiguous and mystifying. It's also a dazzling display of innovative film technique. In addition to what you call a light show, there's the eerie scene of Bowman in what looks like a luxurious hotel room.


A stranger in a very strange land.

What does it all mean? Don't ask me. Maybe the upcoming novel will make things clearer. But I adore this movie, and I expect to watch it dozens of times in the future, assuming it keeps coming back to second-run theaters. Maybe even if it ever shows up on TV, although it should really be experienced on a very big screen.

And the music! Goodness, what a stroke of genius to make use of existing classical and modern art music instead of a typical movie soundtrack. The Blue Danube scene alone is worth the price of admission. And the recurring presence of Also Sprach Zarathustra! Magnificent!

Five stars, and I wish I had more to give.

***sigh*** No use arguing with a woman in love.

You Damn Beautiful Apes!


by Jason Sacks

Man, who'd a thunk it? Just a couple weeks removed from seeing Planet of the Apes, there's another science fiction movie in the theatres which involves apes.

You might have heard of it, because this new film has the portentous title 2001: A Space Odyssey.

loved Planet of the Apes. Just two weeks ago in the pages of this very magazine, I praised the film's restrained story, its tremendous special effects, its lovely cinematography and its spectacular use of music. Heck, I thought POTA was perhaps the finest science fiction movie in years. It's a thrilling, delightful sci fi masterpiece.

But 2001, man, wow, it's transcendent.

2001 is immaculate and powerful, smart and elliptical, with the greatest special effects I have ever seen in a motion picture. It tells a heady, fascinating story so vast it transcends mere humanity and expands into the metaphysical.

Many have criticized this film for being slow – heck, look at the devil on Victoria's shoulder to see just one example of that. But the slowness is obviously intentional. Director Stanley Kubrick clearly wants the viewer to see this film as stately and calm, playing astonishing space scenes juxtaposed with gorgeous classical music.

It's a work of genius to juxtapose Strauss's "The Blue Danube" with the image of a spinning space station. This juxtaposition and its stately pace allows the viewer to make connections, to see how a journey down a river in the 1860s will be as ordinary and beautiful as a journey into space in the year 2001. In the same way, using "Also Sprach Zarathustra" invites the viewer to imagine transcendence and evolution in an ecstatic way, bringing both a connection to the past and to the future in a way that perfectly suits Kubrick's themes.

Kubrick makes efforts to tether the viewer to his film with scenes like this.

What makes it even more thrilling is when he cuts that tether and demands the audience make connections ourselves.

What is the strange monolith that appears at different times of human evolution, and how does it propel us forward? Is the monolith a literal gift from alien beings (who might as well be gods – or God) or a symbol of mankind's evolution?

Why does the HAL-9000 computer, perhaps mankind's greatest achievement and an electronic being that achieves sentience, go crazy and destroy people?

What is the meaning of the trippy journey the astronaut takes towards the end of the film, and what is the meaning of the very strange place he finds himself? Why does he age? What is this place?

And what is that strange space baby we see at the end?

What do we make of any of this?

Kubrick asks the viewer to make up our own minds, to build our own interpretations of those scenes. 2001 feels overwhelming, in part, because it is participatory. This film demands we become involved with it as a means of determining some kind of truth and meaning out of it. Take this film in, interpret it, and determine your own truth. Like in life, there are no clear answers when considering the biggest questions.

Mr. Kubrick on the set with his actors.

Kubrick's previous film was Dr. Strangelove, a deeply cynical and polemical film (which is also hysterically funny) in which the director tells viewers what to feel. 2001: A Space Odyssey is the opposite. It's optimistic and ambiguous and highly serious. Strangelove was black and white and 2001 is glorious, rich color.

Stanley Kubrick is American's greatest living filmmaker. 2001: A Space Odyssey proves that fact.

Kubrick's film is an absolute masterpiece. Sorry, Fiona. The angel on Victoria's shoulder is right.

5 stars