2010: THE YEAR WE MAKE CONTACT: Still Surprisingly Good
His works were perfectly closed wholes, which, by engaging the viewer’s intelligence, simultaneously blocked any attempts to write sequels or any other form of exploitation of his legacy. Regardless of the number of unanswered questions spoken from the screen. A side exception to this rule was the literary works on the basis of which Stanley Kubrick made two of his most famous films. In 1990, Gustav Hasford published the novel The Phantom Blooper, a continuation of the war epic of Joker from Full Metal Jacket, while eight years earlier Arthur C. Clarke wrote 2010: Odyssey Two, the next chapter in the story of Man’s encounter with his cosmic Creator, first presented in the most brilliant science fiction film of all time 2001: A Space Odyssey.
The sight of the Star Child looking at the Blue Planet, closing Kubrick’s film, was so enigmatic, so primal in its mystery, and yet so extreme in its interpretational range, that any attempts at a cinematic continuation in the mystical-scientific-religious aura of Kubrick and Clarke would resemble the timid attempts of prehistoric apes to touch the Black Monolith. 2001: A Space Odyssey was the only attempt in the history of cinema to face the ultimate mystery of the cosmos, an incredibly intense visual poem about the place of Man in the Universe and at the same time a bitter summary of our civilization, which without external interference would never have left its caves.
Arthur C. Clarke, one of the masters of this most classical form of SF literature, always emphasized the science element, which he also adhered to while working on the screenplay and novel for 2001: A Space Odyssey. Kubrick was his strongest ally when it came to scientific verisimilitude, but he left behind the realm of microscopes and lenses when symbolism, metaphor, and finally the surrealism of “traveling to another dimension” had to take precedence over the strict perception of the reality we know. This difference is excellently illustrated by reading the novel 2001: A Space Odyssey, which differs in many more or less important details from the film. When Clarke devised the plot for 2010: Odyssey Two, he followed his usual course, without continuing the intellectually complex structure of Kubrick’s film, which would have been tantamount to shooting himself in the foot. Instead of a philosophical parable, he proposed political science fiction. This is also how the producer, director of photography, screenwriter, and director all in one, Peter Hyams, approached the film adaptation, presenting 2010 in 1984.
The spaceship Discovery, drifting alone near Jupiter for nine years, begins to dangerously approach Io, one of the moons of the largest planet in the Solar System. Meanwhile, on Earth in AD 2010, the cold war between the USSR and the USA is intensifying. The world is on the brink of nuclear war. The Russians are building the Leonov spacecraft, with which they plan to explore the mystery of Discovery, and they take three Americans on board: Dr. Heywood Floyd (Roy Scheider), responsible for the failed Discovery mission, Dr. Walter Curnow (John Lithgow), the designer of Discovery, and Dr. Chandra (Bob Balaban), the creator of the HAL-9000 supercomputer. The Soviet-American expedition reaches the abandoned ship. The enormous Black Monolith in orbit around Io is just as impenetrable as the previous one found on the Moon in 1999. Chandra activates HAL, who unexpectedly delivers a message from David Bowman, the ship’s missing commander. Meanwhile, the leaders of the USA and USSR are ready to press the atomic buttons. The crews of both ships are ordered to disconnect. And Bowman materializes on board Discovery, announcing to the shocked Floyd the need for cooperation and escape from the suddenly changing Jupiter region, as “something wonderful” is about to happen…
Clarke, followed by Hyams, tossed aside the entire lofty philosophy of Kubrick, continuing the story of the 2001 heroes… in a completely unexpected tone. Instead of enigmatic, dialogue-less images, the viewer was presented with a talkative, simple as the hull of Discovery, classic space sci-fi, the true child of the times of Star Wars and Star Trek. Kubrick’s reflection on the condition of humanity was reduced to a very particular moment in modern history, namely the arms race and the then-current dramatic conflict between two superpowers. The film became a science fiction contribution to the American cinematography trend of the time, dealing with the conflict between the USA and the USSR. One only needs to recall Rambo III and Rocky IV, where Sylvester Stallone was setting the evil Russians straight. After Rocky Balboa pummeled Ivan Drago, he amused critics with his overly optimistic speech about peace between the warring camps. This is roughly the same intellectual offering 2010 presents. The politically correct wishful thinking of the film’s creators amused and angered the bigger fanatics of Kubrick’s film.
And one really can’t be surprised. The props carrying the entire spectrum of timeless meanings in 2001: A Space Odyssey, the Black Monoliths symbolizing almost divine intervention, the HAL-9000 computer marked by human flaws, the moral atrophy of people in the space age, the Star Child as the next step in evolution—these were all treated by Clarke and Hyams as temporary attractions, gadgets resembling a connection to the previous film and a facade of deeper meaning layers. This is especially evident in the scene of the conversation between Bowman and Floyd. The astronaut returning from another dimension changes his appearance every few lines, appearing as the old man from the film’s final scene and even as the Star Child. Like an illusionist entertaining the viewer, who only needs the wonderful transformations, without asking questions about the sense of such costumes. The scene with hundreds of monoliths does not prove, in the slightest, artistic awareness at a high level.
The screen year of 2010, watched now, is a ruthlessly exposed state of minds and technology of the people from 1984. Arthur C. Clarke, in the 1950s, invented the technical foundations of satellite television, and before the film was made, he corresponded by e-mail with Peter Hyams, which in the early 1980s sounded like science fiction. Meanwhile, this visionary of such class was certain that the cold war would last at least another 30 years (the book was published in 1982). This shows the basic weakness of SF literature—it is easier to invent a spaceship equipped with artificial intelligence flying to Jupiter than to predict the end of the Cold War, the collapse of the USSR, and the entire Eastern Bloc. The state of threatened peace on Earth suggests that the armed forces are still governed by madmen in uniforms, taken straight from Dr. Strangelove by Kubrick. And all it would have taken was to read the books of Janusz A. Zajdel.
But thanks to this, 2010 offers a rare opportunity to see an interplanetary ship produced by the Soviet Union, scenographically similar to Nostromo from Scott’s film. The malicious could say that such a lavish Russian spacecraft is pure science fiction! And in a brief shot on the beach, Roy Scheider operates a laptop that today looks terribly clunky, but back then it was an extraordinary technological wonder, the Apple IIc with an LCD screen.
So, is it a failed film? It is hard to give a straightforward answer affirmatively. The creators knew that they could not surpass Kubrick, and the questions he posed had no answers that could find their visual equivalent. Therefore, they deliberately went in a safe direction, knowingly exposing themselves to unfavorable comparisons with the original. Since it was impossible to match Kubrick, they took many elements from the first film “sharply,” as winks to the knowledgeable viewer. Thus, Arthur Clarke himself played a minor cameo in the scene of Roy Scheider’s conversation in front of the White House (Clarke is the older man on the left side of the frame). The fictional cover of Time contains illustrations of the US president (Clarke’s face) and the USSR prime minister (Kubrick’s face). Keir Dullea and Douglas Rain returned in their roles as Bowman and the voice of HAL. The character played by Helen Mirren has the surname Kirbuk, which is phonetic for Kubrick backward.
The memorable episode from 2001… with the pen spinning in zero gravity was repeated here twice. First, in the form of the nearly identical rotating Discovery, and later in a scene where Floyd himself takes out a pen and sets it in motion in zero gravity. HAL-9000 received its “twin sister” in the form of the computer SAL-9000, which speaks with the voice of Candice Bergen. Kubrick prudently made it difficult for potential imitators to use the legacy of his work by ordering the destruction of the sets and models used in 2001: A Space Odyssey. The creators of the sets and models for Hyams’ film were thus forced to meticulously recreate everything solely based on the 1968 film. Meanwhile, Bowman’s last words “My God, it’s full of stars” did not refer to Kubrick’s film but to the novel by Arthur Clarke, which was being written simultaneously.
It is interesting to wonder how the film would have looked without the ballast of the original. Probably, it wouldn’t have been made at all, although it must be said clearly that 2010 treated as an autonomous work presents itself very decently. Excellent actors, smooth narration, good dialogues, fantastic set design, excellent effects, great orchestral-electronic music by David Shire (originally music was written by Tony Banks, the keyboardist from Genesis, but his score was rejected), the mood of cosmic adventure perfectly maintained; even the scenes that mindlessly exploit gadgets from Kubrick’s film are thrilling to watch, but only on the condition of an uncritical acceptance of the creators’ predatory convention in 2010.
The opinion is rather sharp for such a viewer-friendly film, but one can understand the stubbornness of people in awe of Kubrick’s masterpiece, who in the sequel learned that the aliens, who, let’s recall, in the original were sowers of intelligence, subtly interfering with the imperfect chain of Earth’s evolution, in Hyams’ film have doubtfully been upgraded to still-present and active guardians of humanity, without whom Earthlings would be as helpless as children. This thesis is as absurd as it is extraordinarily effectively shown on screen. And this, perhaps, is the main problem of Peter Hyams’ film. It is beautiful, interesting, sometimes even thrilling and bold, but not very wise. But this is also a feature of all American cinema, which takes timeless masterpieces to task, works that cannot be surpassed.
Adrian Szczypiński