I Approve of This Classic: 2010

He's ba-aaack.

 The Short Version:
While forever languishing in the shadow of its forebear, 2010: The Year We Make Contact remains filled with captivating visuals and above-average intelligence. It's also (in my opinion) the more watchable film.

The Long Version:
The keen-eyed viewer will note that this review is filed under 'Classics'. Since this is my blog, this is not up for debate – though I would understand why some would wish to argue the point. By most standards 2010: The Year We Make Contact (henceforth called: 2010) could be, at best, described as a Cult Classic – appealing to a small but loyal fan base. Since I can be included among them I get to decide what its status is, and I call this movie a Classic.

Not because it's a better movie than 2001. Not because it's, say, in the same league as Raiders of the Lost Ark. But because this movie is a) a very good movie, and b) a touchstone for my childhood.

Let me put it this way: do you have a movie (or movies) that you just have to put on every time you get sick? Every time you stayed home from school was there a movie that you invariably ended up digging out of your collection of VHS's with three movies each on them (because they were awesome that way) and a little bit of scotch tape to cover up that tab so you could record on them and someone (like your dad) had painstakingly edited out all the commercials and all you were left with was a few seconds of the CityTV late night movie intro/outro set to the deep tones of Mark Dailey (rest his soul)?

This was that movie for me.

Last time on: None of This Makes Any Sense...

As I said though, 2010 is in my opinion a great movie, able to stand on its own merits. It will just always be thought of as "that sequel to Stanley Kubrick's immortal 2001: A Space Odyssey." I, however, have an odd history with that series. For starters, I did not see 2001 (beyond a few seconds gleamed from other sources) until the Fall of 1999. I can't really explain why, other than we didn't have a copy of it at home, never bothered to rent it, and, in the intervening years I had been told many times that it was nearly incomprehensible. And filled with long, slow sequences that test the limits of patience. And very little dialogue. 2001 is not a great movie for 6-year-olds. 

2010 on the other hand, is. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that 2001 is boring or needlessly obtuse – though both criticisms have been levelled against it by some over the years. But 2010 doesn't deal with quite so heady topics. Instead it deals with the facts (or lack thereof) from the first film and portrays characters who, like us, are yearning to understand the meaning of it all. In a funny way, 2010 is almost a commentary on the first film. Maybe it was. I do know that Arthur C. Clarke, the writer of the series, differed greatly with Stanley Kubrick in how to deal with the aliens and monoliths. As anyone who has read the novel for 2001, which was written simultaneously with the script (a partnership between Kubrick and Clarke), can tell you it's very different in how explicit it is vesus the film. Yes, most books do give you much more detail than the film versions, but Clarke was very open about how he didn't want the story to remain a total enigma. Which may be why, without Kubrick's involvement in the sequel, Clarke felt he could craft a Space Odyssey film more in line with his books. He certainly had a willing participant in Peter Hyams, the director who took over the reigns. 

Above is the trailer for another cult classic sci-fi film directed by Peter Hyams in 1981 called Outland. It starred a scruffy Sean Connory and was dubbed High Noon in outer space. Which is a pretty accurate description. But it's also a pretty good film and if you watch the trailer you can see the blueprints for what would be (again, in my opinion) Hyams' best film in a very patchy career. 

You spin me right round, baby.

2010 starts with a very ominous recounting of the first film's Greatest Hits and immediately sets the mood for what the movie's mission statement is: find out what the hell happened. I'm not even joking. Roy Scheider's character Dr. Heywood Floyd says exactly that to another character within the first 10-15 minutes of the film. This approach was disappointing for many (I assume) because it sought to strip away the powerful mystery of the original. I however find that approach very understandable. The desire to know, to unravel mysteries is ingrained in all of us, especially if you're a scientist. I mean just look at fans of Lost. 

So begins a bit of a shaky introduction that includes an awesomely ancient laptop, Scheider rocking a wicked tan, a dolphin and more than a few unsubtle hints that, though this takes place in the (then) future, the problems of the mid-80s were (are?) still very much with us. [Aside: It's fun and also very hard to know which tense to use when writing about a then-future movie that now takes place in the past]. I'm speaking of course about the Cold War and everyone's favourite 80's villain: the Ruskies.

It's difficult to recall now, with over 28 years of perspective, just how real Cold War tensions felt back then. But I'm sure in 1984 (an auspicious year to begin with) that it was very conceivable that these two super powers would be at odds for years or decades to come. This was also part of Clarke's novel, Odyssey Two, so Hyams can hardly be accused of sensationalizing the source material. Regardless of how antiquated it may seem, the dynamic of two crews of scientists, engineers and astronauts from opposing sides forming an uneasy alliance for a greater cause, the search for truth, makes for good old-fashioned tension. Especially when your "villains" can be played by the likes of her:

100% Helen Mirren. 100% 80s hair.

Yes, that's Helen Mirren and she delightfully brings up two points. The first is that this movie has no traditional villains. Or heroes for that matter. The Russians, while very proud of themselves and do occasionally slip into Cold War-speak, are equally as professional, knowledgeable and human. Our lead "hero," Heywood Floyd is not entirely scrupulous himself, making the standard protagonist/antagonist makeup blurrier than usual – especially for an 80s film. The second point Ms. Mirren brings up is that the cast is rather excellent. Besides herself we have Bob Balaban (everything, Russell Dalrymple in Seinfeld), John Lithgow (everything, evil jerk from Dexter), Elya Baskin (loads of stuff, always Russian) and, of course, Roy Scheider. This film actually completes something of a great Scheider Trilogy from my childhood, rounded out by Jaws and The French Connection. If you watch them all together you get just about all you'd ever need from the movies.

What are you doing in my movie?

Two more performers must be recognized. The first is Keir Dullea, reprising his role as David Bowman, now much more Star Child-y. This continuity from the first film gives 2010 more legitimacy as a sequel than it might otherwise have had. Bowman is the embodiment of all that remains impenetrable from 2001. He's rarely the same age twice. He moves at absolute will. He appears at critical moments, only to deliver obtuse hints to the confounded characters. So what makes Keir's reappearance so much more authentic is the fact that he looks eerily the same as he did 17 years prior. Honestly, there are moments in wider shots where he looks like they've just thawed him out for the film. But as cryogenically-impressive as Keir may have been, he had nothing on this guy:

The future history of CRT TV monitors!

The most memorably homicidal computer in cinema history was back. If for no other reason, the chance to further explore the insanity within HAL 9000's silicon soul is why 2010 should have been made. And the answer to the riddle of his killer instincts that Hyams and Co. present is a rather simple, elegant one. Bringing this talking red light back to life was, once again, the soft and delightfully creepy voice of Douglas Rain. If Keir Dullea didn't look like he'd aged in 17 years, Douglas Rain sounded like he had never left the deck of the Discovery. As a boy, I never once thought of HAL as a performance – Douglas' voice never entered into the equation for me. To me, he simply was: a computer, a genius, an egotist, a ticking time bomb. I don't recall as a child of ever being more simultaneously fascinated and afraid of a character in a movie. Sure there are always the Freddy Krugers out there, but they're not as interesting as a guy who may save your life or snuff it out, depending on his mood.

I do realize that I'm going on quite a bit about this film and I've hardly talked about it in any detail. Such is my love for it: I could talk about it endlessly and never run dry of things to say. For instance, I wonder what it must have felt like to be told "Hey, great news you're doing the sequel to 2001"? Talk about colossal shoes to fill. Hyams has admitted that he idolized Kubrick and sought out his approval for taking over the series. At one point Kubrick apparently rebuffed him, but then later told him to relax and "go do your own movie." I think that advice sunk in. If you look at this film, Hyams took what Clarke had written, some blueprints that Kubrick laid down, and a healthy dose of his own sci-fi sensibilities from Outland. And you know what? It works.

Hey, what's that in the mirror?

It's not perfect, but it's not a retread of 2001 either. It has some incredible sights that will forever stick in my memory. It's an excellent argument in the Practical Effects vs. CGI debate. I do not think the effects would be any better if digitally generated. It's also an unusual entry in the hard sci-fi vs. fantasy sci-fi debate. 2001 was firmly planted in hard sci-fi – plausible technology, no sound in space. 2010 is somewhere left of centre. Not entirely hard sci-fi, but not totally fanciful. And while Hyams does have sound in space, he uses it very effectively. In several sequences he contrasts the quiet emptiness of space with very harsh sounds inside the ship or inside a certain someone's space helmet.

I'm cramming as many anecdotes as I can before I'm forced to cut myself off. For your sake, that time is now. I've explained as best I can why this movie is a classic for me. Frankly, it's kind of like trying to capture all the feelings you had when you met your first love. It's not something that should be easily quantified. Instead, I strongly encourage you to watch it – maybe for the first time, maybe for the umpteenth time. To that end, I leave you with one of, but not the, best sequences in the movie: science, exploration, the unknown, harsh contrast of sound, terse dialogue, building tension, and still not exactly explaining what's going on. That about sums this movie up.

My Name is Rick Ames
and I Approve of This Classic

[Note: I couldn't find my favourite sequence (the space walk) on YouTube, so you'll just have to check it out for yourself. I'm sorry to report that this film is, as yet, not available on Netflix.]