Written by Kevin Larder

7th April 2001: Curzon Mayfair, London

4:15 - 7:10 p.m.

SATURDAY

Claire was ill and couldn't go. An annoying drizzle permeated the air, so I took refuge with a large mug of coffee in a sidestreet café. I was 45 minutes early and the other two customers talked excitedly of the Grand National, but already I was humming to myself the Blue Danube.

I still can't quite believe I am about to watch my favourite film on the big screen in the actual year 2001 (and to think Kubrick didn't live to see this). I first saw the film in 1972 at Walthamstow, Derek drove the family, and being early we caught from the disconnection of HAL to the end. We then settled to watch the whole film. (I remember Mildred & Herbert hated it, thus bearing out the original generation divide noted in 1968. Mildred called it 'screeching rubbish that gave me a headache', I seem to recall). I then saw the film in Woodford on its short release in 1977 during the Star Wars craze. George Lucas endorsed the tag-line 'in the beginning there was and always will be 2001'. A school- friend dismissed 2001 with the taunt that Star Wars was pure entertainment (thereby missing the point totally). Still, whilst waiting in the foyer at Woodford, the previous viewing was left early by a middle- aged man in a macintosh saying loudly 'don't bother, I can't understand it'. Since then, only disappointing video or worse TV.

A large crowd waits in the foyer in Curzon Street. I'm so excited I call Claire mumbling about 'huge crowd', 'it's like a theatre rather than a cinema' and 'we can eat out later if you feel up to it' (we did an excellent Indian in Debden). The people reminded me of those at the opening of Eyes Wide Shut, an in-crowd, either discussing Kubrick or 2001. Two ladies in their 60s were discussing when they first saw it - 1968 or the 70s. Others asked for the new poster but they had sold out (tag-line 'still the ultimate trip'). I had a great seat and before me, row upon row, I could see images of myself - middle- aged men, who probably once dreamed of being astronauts, now rows of balding heads, prepared to travel to any big screen to see this film.

ATMOSPHERES

An overture is an oddity these days, I was impressed with the silence that greeted Atmospheres (it didn't seem to last as long as I thought). The anticipation was in the air, the pale blue curtains drew back to reveal the stylised MGM logo. I could only take short sharp breaths, I felt butterflies in the pit of my stomach as Thus Spoke Zarasthustra began. The single drawn- out pulse vibrated in my chest as if I were sat next to an amplifier in an old disco. My spine tingled as the fanfare began in unison with the emerging Moon, Sun and Earth (an image ripped off by Suncrest records). Already you knew this was going to be a film of importance (or pretension, depending on your point of view).

THE FILM

The film was so clear in this new 70mm print. It really is like watching a different movie from the one butchered by 'pan and scan' on video. With digitally remastered soundtrack the music thunders and the images flood the senses. I was aware of nothing else in the auditorium the whole time the film was running. An effect that really struck me, totally lost outside the cinema, is how painfully deafening the silences of space are. Without doubt the film is scary / creepy during the 'Jupiter and Beyond' section, and uplifting with the 'Star Child', but the 'Stargate' sequence is still too long. On big- screen you remember that 'Moonwatcher' is leader of a tribe rather than the "me and my mate" approach of pan and scan.

Hal still has all the best lines, he raised an audible laugh with his stress comments and provoked a little sympathy with Daisy, Daisy. I hate to admit it, but some of the effects are beginning to creak. The effects are either wonderful, e.g., Blue Danube Waltz, or looking shoddy, e.g., trip of Floyd to Tycho site. Some images of Discovery look dodgy but the three monolith sequences with the Ligeti music are absolutely awe inspiring. The intermission caused some confusion as we don't get intermissions any more and younger people looked baffled (some stayed in their seats, others went to the bar).

I noticed two things that have never registered before. First, the orbital space station has a 'Howard Johnson Room' on board (only found out what that was on our travels across USA in 2000). Second, even a perfectionist can overlook a mistake: as Bowman is opening the door to HAL's brain- room, his left space glove is not connected to the rest of his suit (he is supposed to be in a vacuum).

WHAT''S IT ALL ABOUT

You can't avoid this question and the middle- aged lady sat next to me turned and asked as the final credits were rolling. With the Blue Danube blaring out for dramatic effect I dived into an answer. I said the film is an enigma, you must interpret it (suddenly feeling pompous, I changed track). I think that the subtitle 'Dawn of Man' doesn't just apply to the Apes but to the whole film, culminating in a new mankind represented by the Starchild. The music Thus Spake Zarathustra is used twice to signpost an evolutionary step, Moonwatcher with his bone tool and Bowman becoming the Starchild. Kubrick was right, 2001 isn't really a SCI-FI film at all, it is the most expensive philosophy film ever made, a film about spirituality rather than hardware. At this point we bade goodbye and I wondered to myself how in a matter of seconds one can progress from as unknown filmgoer to an unknown font of all pretentious knowledge.

THE RUNNING MAN

I literally ran for home, totally uplifted and eager to tell Claire all about it. I left Hyde Park Corner at 7:20 p.m. and somehow arrived at Forest Gate at about 8:10 p.m. As stated earlier we went for an excellent Indian and Claire had made herself better by rearranging the videos on our new piece of furniture. I am ending this typing at 10 a.m. Sunday 8th April 2001. My last two thoughts before I wander to the shops for a Sunday paper and sit with Kubby, Wicca and Spike in our conservatory.

First, I was uplifted, yes, but also tinged with sadness. As I sat on the train the thought occurred: will I ever see 2001 again on the big screen? (Especially if a Region 2 DVD is ever released). If I do see it again, say in 2010, the magic will not be there, of seeing 2001 in 2001, a moment now forever lost in time (hence this missive).

Second, I think it is a shame that in the year 2001 (that seemed like forever and a day away back in 1972), people are still enthralled by their technological toys like mobile phones, DVDs and the Internet (just like the Floyd video call to his daughter from space). People love the thrill of the next techno-toy but seem to be losing their capacity to wonder, to be more spiritual. To me this is the point being made by 2001, not whether a Moonbase or BBC 12 exists. Thinking about it now, it seems no surprise that 2001 ends with the hopeful, inspiring face of the evolved Starchild (devoid of the need for technology) dominating the screen, whereas Kubrick's next film, Clockwork Orange, begins with the malevolent face of Alex (needing fast cars and hard drugs) challenging us to defy him.

What do you think?
 
 

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