2001: A Space Odyssey: Contemplative Tone Poem

Daisy, Daisy,
Give me your answer, do!
I’m half crazy,
All for the love of you!
It won’t be a stylish marriage,
I can’t afford a carriage,
But you’ll look sweet upon the seat
Of a bicycle built for two.

~ Harry Dacre, “Daisy Bell (Bicycle Built for Two)” 1992

In 2009 the American film director and cinematographer Pip Chodorov (Free Radicals: A History of Experimental Film) wrote a complimentary letter to the correspondence section of Senses of Cinema, after that Australian magazine published my essay “2001: An Existential Odyssey.” A version of my essay was published as a chapter in my book Philosophical Perspective on Cinema (Lexington Books, 2022). I never did get the opportunity to thank Mr. Chodorov for his good will. I will do so now.

Chodorov commented on my humanistic treatment of Kubrick’s masterpiece; the existential angle on the film and characters that my essay explores. Chodorov wrote: “Although González goes to great pains to understand the monolith as a form of intelligence or as a communication device between aliens and humans, he does not entertain Arthur Clarke’s interpretation of the monolith as an alarm device.” That is correct. That is the case because that essay, as is this one, focuses exclusively on the existential conditions that the film sets up, whether intentionally or otherwise, not Clarke’s novel.

Arthur C. Clarke, the science fiction author of the novel 2001: A Space Odyssey, was an engineer, a man with a degree in mathematics and physics, and contributor to the development of the geostationary satellite, turned science fiction author.

Kubrick’s film 2001 brings Clarke’s novel to life in a vivid, lyrical form that emphasizes the relationship the characters have with each, including HAL, space, the passage of time, and a highly classified mission to the unknown. The film does not necessarily obsess with the science-fiction component.

Bowman shows his otherwise veiled apprehension, in addition to fear, I will suggest, through subtle, almost unnoticeable facial expressions – his eyes taking center stage. Undoubtedly, these barely visible articulations are a signpost of emotions that are kept in check through the pressing need to remain in control.

Chodorov adds: “I enjoyed reading Pedro Blas González’s article on 2001: A Space Odyssey because I have rarely read a humanistic approach to this film…But rarely have writers ventured into the characters or psychology of the apes or the astronauts as does Mr. González. This viewpoint intrigued me and made me think of the film in yet another way.”

Paying close attention to Bowman’s subtle movements and unanimated facial expressions, which remain muted throughout the film, as is also the case with Poole, the other astronaut on the ship, viewers can imagine that the taciturn astronauts signed on for a likely one-way mission; Discovery One’s mission has a scarce likelihood of returning to Earth.

How much more existential does cinema get than Bowman’s iconic character? Consider that Bowman, like every one of us, is an Adamic, existentially speaking, first-man. He lacks an operating manual. Life is open for the taking. Bowman’s life-altering contingencies serve as the litmus test for him, the astronaut and man. It is the flesh and bones Bowman that concerns this essay.

Bowman, who confronts soul-crushing solitude, discovers the beauty and unforgiving violent effects of space and time on the psyche and emotions of the human person like no other human in history. Like the biblical Adam – this is a metaphorical suggestion – Bowman is offered a glimpse of the ‘big picture.’ This vision disrupts his mundane epistemological convention of what it means to know.

Yet knowledge alone does not make Bowman’s character a model example of existential authenticity. Far from it. Knowing and knowledge, taken together, are only one aspect of human existence. So, why the existential moniker?

Bowman’s facial expressions tell us that he is overwhelmed with seeing, understanding on an ultra-human scale, comprehending the totality and logos of man in the cosmos. This is the formidable existential task that Kubrick reserves for thoughtful viewers of the film. This also explains the resistance and vague impressions that many casual viewers and critics alike, throughout the years since the film was released, have about the film. These viewers contend that 2001: A Space Odyssey is much too ‘ambiguous’ a film – others have called it ‘abstract.’ The vast majority of viewers of 2001 are simply dumbfounded by the film’s singular and unique storyline. They expect a science-fiction film with alien creatures and space-age gadgets. What they get instead is a cinematic work of art that defies easy classification.

2001: An Existential Tone Poem

Being different from the novel – 2001, the film – is evocative of poetry, more than it is hard science fiction. This is a contentious point for science fiction viewers who have grown up with the likes of Star Wars space opera films.

Bowman is a contemplative character, not so much reflective. That would be a stretch. While remaining in self-control throughout most of the film, the contemplative Bowman is witnessed revving into gear, as it were, when HAL, the ship’s Titanic-esque, ‘has never failed’ computer, begins to malfunction.

Consider the chill horror felt by Bowman, an astronaut trained in a computerized age; a man who bowed to accept the authority of an allegedly failproof computer, when that computer threatens to kill him after killing Poole. This thorny situation creates existential disorientation in Bowman. Remember, just like airplanes were called flying machines in the early days of aviation, HAL is no more than a computing machine.

HAL’s failure throws Bowman out of sync, existentially-speaking. There is much business for him to attend to on Discovery One besides having his life threatened by a malfunctioning, paranoid, or what some viewers suspect is a down-right evil machine.

“This is not what I signed up for, not what I was promised,” we can imagine Bowman thinking. Though, we must be mindful of psychologizing and not offer a reductionist psychoanalytic interpretation of the film. We must be cognizant to remain loyal to what Kubrick has put on the screen.

I suggest that in addition to being an existential reflection about space and time, space travel, and man in the cosmos, 2001 is also evocative of a tone poem. I’ve already mentioned how Bowman’s character waxes proudly about HAL during the beginning of the film, a computer that has never failed. Bowman’s optimism vanishes once he is launched into a dazzling-speed voyage to Jupiter and beyond. It is at that point in the film that the romance of science and the computer age turns sinister; the romance is quelled. Bowman returns to homespun emotions – predominantly fear of the unknown. Life, the passage of time, ageing, death and re-birth take command over the second half of the film. Hence, I find it impossible for critics to ignore the existential aspect of the film.

2001: A Space Odyssey is effectively a trickle of existential hammering that culminate in an existential crisis for Bowman. He must wonder: “What is this mission really about?” Bowman witnesses and comes to know more than he is able to comprehend. Nietzsche warns us about the limits of knowledge in connection to sanity. Bowman’s trickle of existential hammerings is what I believe makes the film reminiscent of a tone poem.

 Classical tone poems are single movement compositions that stress continuous movement of sight, color and sound. Most importantly, tone poems are evocative of heightened human emotions.

The minimal use of dialogue and harmonic music allow for 2001: A Space Odyssey to elicit the contemplative qualities of a tone poem. Even the use of the popular British song “Daisy Bell (Bicycle Made for Two)” in the sequence when HAL is being de-programed, has a groggy, dreamlike quality that rouses anxiety of what is to come for Bowman.

I place Alain Resnais’ 1961 Last Year at Marienbad and Andrei Tarkovsky’s 1972 Solaris in the same company as 2001. This is a select company of contemplative, tone poem films. These films emphasis silence as evocative of human emotions. Silence triggers contemplation. These three films make use of muddled whispers, echoes, solitude and scant dialogue. Dialogue, these directors appear to suggest, hampers the surreal story they aim to tell. In effect, these three films exhibit a sustained soliloquy that invite viewers into the psyche of the characters.

Like Last Year at Marienbad and Solaris, Kubrick’s masterpiece signals the limitations of human understanding, the humility that knowledge should produce, the often-surreal aspects of human reality, and the moral/spiritual complexity of man in the cosmos. Imagery tells the story in 2001.

What does the Adamic first-man Bowman feel when confronted with unprecedented and irreproducible contingencies that, by their nature, he and we alike, must tackle on our own merits?  How we view human reality determines our capacity to see.

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