Your Film Professor

Stanley Kubrick is one of my all time favorite filmmakers, right up there with Yasujiro Ozu, Charlie Chaplin, Luis Buñuel, Ken Loach, and Lars von Trier. I appreciate him so much because Kubrick explored the darkest and deepest recesses of the human condition, which, more importantly, means that he explored and interrogated the ideological root causes for our self-destructive way of being. Some scholars have conjectured that Kubrick, being Jewish, struggled to come to terms with the Holocaust, and, by extension, the numerous other human atrocities in history. In that context, it really is understandable why Kubrick had such a bleak view of humanity, though I would stress that to my mind Kubrick was not a nihilist; rather, instead of just giving us a bleak view of humanity — just give us symptoms of something deeper in us — he offered a more constructive approach to humanity, exploring the specific reasons for our otherwise inexplicable, often horrific, behavior. Moreover, to my mind, it isn’t just his content that is deep and complex, it is his use of form as well, his mise en scenes (e.g., everything in the frame) especially being some of the most rich and complex in film history, which I will hopefully demonstrate in this post. In sum, in my view, what is most remarkable about Kubrick is that he never made a bad film. Yes, his first film, Fear and Desire, was inept in many ways, I still wouldn’t call it a bad film. Indeed, after The Killing, Kubrick crafted one masterpiece after another, giving us some of the “best” films of many genres, two of the most important works in science fiction (2001: A Space Odyssey, A Clockwork Orange…three if you count Dr. Strangelove as some scholars do), two of the most important (anti) war films ever (Paths of Glory, Full Metal Jacket), one of the most important (black) comedies ever (Dr. Strangelove), one of the most important film noirs (The Killing), and of course one of the most important horror films ever (The Shining). Because Kubrick created so many rich and deep films, it is hard to hierarchize them. I suspect if I did my list every year, the order would change; for now, though, here is how I would rank Kubrick (excluding his early documentary efforts):

(13) Fear and Desire (1953)

I can see why Kubrick didn’t want this film to see the light of day. Though it isn’t without merit by any means, I agree with Kubrick’s assessment that the film is a “a bumbling amateur film exercise,” which comes through less in its thematics, which, I would argue, are actually quite complex, but rather in the actual filmmaking — clumsy and heavy handed at times — which is saying something considering just how masterful a filmmaker Kubrick becomes, and in some of the acting and writing, also clumsy and heavy handed at times. But then of course few filmmakers blow right out of the gate with masterworks. Having said that, there are some interesting elements in this film (and some beautifully composed shots), elements that Kubrick would come back to in his works, especially what are to my mind two of the most important war films ever, Paths of Glory and Full Metal Jacket. That is, by creating this unusual scenario of a war without context – e.g., it is a hypothetical war where our protagonists and the “enemy” are from a country without a name – Kubrick stresses how the “enemy” in war is not some demonized Other but rather us. That is, war is a failing of humanity in general, an ideological exercise that is about some ideological motivation or another (see more in my blurbs on Paths of Glory and Full Metal Jacket), normalized to appear necessary instead of what it is, a dehumanizing, monstrous, self-destructive act. Kubrick spells this out in a couple of scenes: When the men kill the enemy in a small house, Kubrick goes well out of his way to show killing for what it is, ghastly and abject, not romantic, heroic, glorious, or exciting. He does this through not only making the killings tactile (they don’t want to shoot the men for fear of gunshots being heard so they stab the men) but through an emphasis on the food the “enemy” are eating, the food becoming an abject reflection of what is happening to them, e.g., a grotesque act. Moreover, after the deaths, Kubrick chillingly intercuts shots of the dead men and the live attackers, especially the young private whose stillness evokes the “dead,” a clear emphasis on Kubrick’s commentary on how killing does indeed, in turn, “kill” men, psychologically or spiritually “kill” something in them. The other crucial scene is the ending moment when two of the men assassinate an enemy colonel, who again Kubrick doesn’t just not demonize but goes out of his way to humanize (e.g., he is as angst ridden about killing as any of our protagonists, and, hey, we see how much he loves his dog!); when the wounded colonel comes crawling out of the doorway, whispering that he surrenders and Lt. Corby unmercifully slaughters him, Kubrick utterly undercuts any sense of heroism in this ending moment, revealing just how there are no “heroes” in war.

(12) Spartacus (1960)

As Kubrick fans know, Kubrick “disowned” Spartacus due to his lack of control on the picture, Kubrick essentially being a “hired gun,” forced to film it in the typical Hollywood way of its many “sword and sandal” epics at the time, e.g., a romanticized, heroized, sensationalized spectacle. Kubrick’s signature dark commentary on humanity (or, as I read him, his deconstruction of destructive ideologies – more on this in a moment) and his deeply structured irony is largely absent in Spartacus. I contemplated bracketing it aside from his overall canon but I decided to include it because it isn’t entirely devoid of Kubrick touches, some moments speaking to his cynicism of the human condition. For me, the one stand out moment that especially illustrates a Kubrickian touch is this one:

(11) Killer’s Kiss (1955)

As many scholars have noted, Killer’s Kiss revealed the “promise” of Kubrick yet to come. As a film noir, it does stand on its own: Kubrick uses trademark film noir tropes and form effectively – chiaroscuro lighting; silhouetting characters; a gritty, urban setting; claustrophobic (entrapment) spaces and symbolic “bars” (e.g., on windows, bed frames); existential mirror shots – and uses these elements to potently give us the “dark” underbelly of society that film noir explored and revealed so well. In this context, it isn’t hard to see why Kubrick chose the genres he did for his early films, his first three films being a war film (Fear and Desire, though I would argue that Fear and Desire is also film noir) and two film noirs (Killer’s Kiss, The Killing), genres that were particularly revealing of the dark side of humanity, which Kubrick would go on to explore so well in his career. In the case of Killer’s Kiss, Kubrick gives us two marginal characters, Davey and Gloria, working jobs that already entail the degraded elements of society, the savagery of boxing and the sleaze of women getting paid to dance with men, both of which inform two key ideologies that become stock Kubrick focuses, phallocentrism/hypermasculinity and the objectification of women, the former also informing the later (more on all of this later). These debased elements are compounded by low level gangster Vincent, who owns the dance hall where Gloria works and who aggressively pursues Gloria (it is suggested that he attempts to violate Gloria in one encounter and may be finishing what he has started when he enters her home). In what follows is Vincent going to extremes to get what he wants (e.g., Gloria) including having Davey’s fight manager killed (thinking he is Davey) and kidnapping Gloria. Most interestingly, when Davey fails to “rescue” Gloria, we hear Gloria plead for her life, telling Vincent that she didn’t care at all for Davey, with Davey then fleeing the scene leaving Gloria behind. What’s so interesting about these moments is that Kubrick refuses to give us motivations for these actions: Is Gloria just saying these things to somehow save Davey (e.g., if Vincent doesn’t think she really cares about Davey, he will let him go)? Does Davey flee thinking that this is his only way to save Gloria? Or are these actions self-centered, Davey and Gloria more interested in saving themselves than each other? Apparently, Kubrick was forced by United Artists to give the film a happy ending, which would seem to make their happy union at least somewhat jarringly conflict with their actions. It would seem to make more sense that the film end with them not getting back together, e.g., they reveal their baser self-centered natures and thus cannot face each other again, a more Kubrickian view of human nature. The famous mannequin scene is appropriately highlighted by scholars as one of the strongest moments in the film, the way that Kubrick films the fight scene between Davey and Vincent among all of these inorganic “bodies” and body parts seemingly hyper-emphasizing the dehumanization of humanity, supported by all that we have seen before this moment, even from our two protagonists. So, Kubrick’s bleak view of humanity is on full display with this early effort. What is largely missing though – what makes his later works masterpieces of explorations of the human condition – is Kubrick’s cogent deconstruction of the ideological root causes of his bleak view of humanity; that is, though we get hints of the ideologies behind the degradation of humanity — how phallocentrism, patriarchy, capitalism objectify (dehumanize) women, inflame phallocentric men’s desire for power and privilege — we only get these elements I think via our own extension of what we see and not what Kubrick explicitly gives us.

(10) The Killing (1956)

With The Killing, Kubrick’s ascent to director extraordinaire was set. Kubrick choosing to make a second (or third if we count Fear and Desire) film noir isn’t surprising considering that film noir in general is all about revealing the darkness at the heart of the human condition. As I will mention a lot in this post, Kubrick loved to create glossy (or seemingly ordered) surfaces and then reveal the Real hidden in them: I’ll come back to how this works specifically in his films but for now, I have always found it fascinating how film noir itself could be seen as the Real of America itself at the time, which also may have been what attracted Kubrick to the genre. That is, at the time, the genre felt fresh because it revealed the dark underbelly of American ideology (think of it as the dark side of 50s utopian TV, e.g., Leave It To Beaver, Father Knows Best, etc). More pointedly, in The Killing, instead of the syrupy bright cheerful and relentlessly happy characters of these 50s utopian TV shows — reflecting the veneer of a seeming healthy American ideology — we get deeply sick, twisted, depressed, angst ridden, materialistic, greedy, purposeless, insecure, lustful, alienated individuals, not to mention that in the Mike thread, we see what happens when the working class gets fatally sick and doesn’t have the money for proper treatment, e.g., Mike’s wife is bed ridden with some illness, which is why he is participating in this heist, so he can get her better treatment and better conditions, a clear indictment on how America does not take care of its own. The darkest element in the film, though, is the greedy, materialistic characters (Sherry, Val, Randy the cop) who essentially live a dark reality where the permeating darkness reflects their dark natures, an extension of them, yes, but also the darkness becoming entailed in them–their greedy, avaricious natures are at least part of what constitutes the dark (Real) reality, e.g., the dark reality then signifying that which creates greed/hedonism, toxic ideologies such as consumerism and capitalism. For George, whose extreme low sense of self-worth and his desire to make his wife happy no matter the cost to his Self, and Unger, a depressed and lonely character — who I read as a repressed closeted gay man, has some special affections for Johnny — completes the picture of this collection of sad and pathetic characters (save Johnny but I’ll come back to him). In this way, all of these characters are also in a kind of prison where they live empty, dead-end lives, trapped in one way or another in a cycle of self-destructive pursuits, the darkness then also visualizing their entrapped existence. To even punctuate this idea even more, Kubrick creates a “bars” motif, signifying that all of these characters are already in a “prison,” one of unfulfilled desires and needs, a common trope in a world where needs and desires are denied people and/or false needs and desires are enacted.

Finally, we have Johnny, who seems different from the other characters, an intelligent (he masterminded this intricately devised heist), goodhearted character who has at least tried robbery one other time (he has just gotten out of jail after a 5 year stint). Johnny strikes me as the classic Kubrick character who cannot stand giving in to the standardizing normalcy of everyday life (think Jack in The Shining), which is supported when Maurice, an old friend of Johnny’s, says this after giving him his sympathies for his difficult 5 year prison sentence:

“You have not yet learned that you have to be like everyone else.The perfect mediocrity. No better, no worse. Individuality is a monster, and it must be strangled in its cradle to make our friends feel comfortable. You know, I often thought that the gangster and the artist are the same in the eyes of the masses. They’re admired and hero-worshipped, but there is always present underlying wish to see them destroyed at the peak of their glory.”

Maurice says this to Johnny because Maurice understands that Johnny is the classic “gangster” character who doesn’t want to play by the rules, who doesn’t want to have his life — his individuality — sucked out of him by a normalizing (standardizing) way of life. This becomes a core part of Kubrick’s vision of the world, a world where people are largely homogenized, made all the same, individuality stripped from them by toxic ideologies, e.g., patriarchy, hypermasculinity, white supremacism, Christianity/Protestantism, capitalism, dominant social order norms, and so on. Those who attempt to buck the system (ideologies) and dare to be different – the “gangster and the artist” – are either “destroyed” or assimilated. That Kubrick doesn’t really explore these root cause ideologies in The Killing — as he will from Lolita on, to one degree or another — is why I don’t think The Killing is as deep and complex as his next nine films.

(9) Lolita (1962)

For me, remarkably, Kubrick’s string of masterpieces begins with Lolita, a film that is well regarded but to my mind is still a bit underappreciated. Part of this feeling about the film I think stems from the belief that, due to the still extreme censorship at the time, Kubrick wasn’t allowed to make the film he really wanted to make, which is supported by his comments that he wouldn’t have even made the film if he had known just how extreme the censorship would be. In this regard, I’m sure had Kubrick made this film later in his career, the film would have been much different, with the more controversial elements from the novel (e.g., Humbert’s overtly sexual relationship with 12 year old Lolita) in place – and I’m sure that film would have been brilliant as well – but I would argue that because Kubrick had to more subtly visualize (symbolize) the sexuality in the film (the “Camp Climax” sequence is just too precious for words!) and especially because Kubrick had to change the age of Lolita from 12 to early teens (14-15), I think actually gave the film its special, complex nuances that adds to the depth and breadth of its complex visual and thematic content. Most especially, changing the age of Lolita added a radical element to the film, especially for the time period. That is, by making Lolita a teenager, Kubrick is forcing us (especially audiences at the time) out of our comfort zone, forcing us to see that young adolescent girls can be just as sexually driven as adolescent boys, which, in turn, forces society in general to just see that females can be just as sexual as males in general. And, again, that then gets at a larger focus for Kubrick, in this film and in his work in general: In short, Kubrick focuses on a (glossy) surface/Real binary in virtually all of his films from Lolita on. That is, Kubrick gives us the surface of “normality” – a “normality” defined by toxic ideologies – and its underlying Real, the Real being, in effect, the stripping away of veneers to expose the darker truths that really exists, that we either don’t want to see or choose to ignore or are just hidden from our view (or consciousness) due to blinding ideologies. So, in Lolita, in addition to this Real of overt female sexual desire, we get this in numerous and complex ways, with Lolita, who at least Humbert sees as an “innocent”  adolescent (and in a complex way she is!) but who is also not “innocent,” at least not in the way that Humbert views her (e.g., she “preys” on Humbert as much as he preys on her); with Humbert, who seems like a refined college professor, an intellectual and British sophisticate, but who is really a vicious and monstrous predator (and, also, I might add, kind of infantile, another key Kubrick element, infantile men); with Charlotte (allegorically representing suburbanites), who, despite her ineptness, is also a predator (her “leopard-print outfit” especially marks this part of her, Kubrick often emphasizing our animal state, suggesting that we are in part still driven by our animal impulses, instincts, and appetites), her aggressive pursuit of Humbert and her later signaled desire to remove Lolita from the picture so she can satisfy her desires to have Humbert solely for herself — a very unhealthy parental act — speaking to this part of her nature; and even with Quilty, who, played as a cool, hip Bohemian writer, is an immoral hedonistic pedophile as well. More pertinently, Kubrick allegorizes Humbert, giving us yet another crucial element that he will focus on throughout his work. That is, throughout Kubrick’s work we get a “white man’s burden” thread (from Rudyard Kipling’s poem, that it was the “burden” of “white men” to “civilize” Others, a rationale for American/European/western [white] countries to colonize Other countries, people of color). We will really get this thread manifested in later films but even as early as this film we get this reference touched on here, in the vein of what looks like indigenous (sacred? ritual?) pieces being used as décor in Charlotte’s space and in her words, where the inference is that “Anglo-Dutch” and “Anglo-Scotch” “stock” are superior peoples, which is of course echoed by Humbert’s highbrow (superior) sensibility. The deeper implication for this film is that in his “colonization” of Lolita he may see himself as “civilizing” an Other, saving her from the Other un-civilized elements (Charlotte, “low” boys), hyper-accentuating just how destructive this ideology is.

(8) Barry Lyndon (1975)

I suspect that if Kubrick fans were polled and asked what their least favorite Kubrick film is (perhaps even including Fear and Desire, Killer’s Kiss and Spartacus!), Barry Lyndon would get many (the most?) votes. The film is long and very slow and, yes, Ryan O’Neal’s performance borders on somnambulistic it is so lifeless at times (though I would argue that is largely purposeful, at least in the second half of the film). However, I have to say that while I get all these reasons for why so many people don’t like the film, I love the film, and I most certainly include it among Kubrick’s masterpieces. My love of the film stems from a few different elements in the film: To my mind, Kubrick was not just interested in showing bad people doing bad things. As I’ve touched on previously, the absolute crucial, crucial element for understanding Kubrick is that he wanted to get at the root cause of why people do bad things. In Barry Lyndon, I think Kubrick starkly spells out several root causes for why Barry becomes a “bad” person, and, then, via his allegorical value, why humanity has done horrific acts. He does this through key signifiers in the early moments of the film:

Nora says to Barry early in the film: “Captain Quinn is a man and you’re only a boy…” but then she finishes her sentence with this: “…and you haven’t a guinea in the world.”

Throughout the first quarter of this film, we get three signifiers repeated over and over and over again: “boy”; money; Irish=low and British=superior.

In this opening, then, we get the toxic recipe for why Barry becomes susceptible to becoming who he becomes: He succumbs to three crucial toxic, dehumanizing ideologies:

Phallocentrism, Hypermasculinity, Patriarchy Ideologies: Being a “boy” is constantly shoved down his throat; via a constant attempt to reinforce his masculinity, he must prove himself a (hypermasculine, patriarchal) man.

Social Class Ideology: Though he considers himself a “gentile” (superior), he is constantly told he is poor, a wretched contradiction for a man who thinks that he should be superior, which already suggests that a class ideology has already influenced him. Further, the emphasis on wealth and property generally establishes this unhealthy focus and influence on all of the participants. A class hierarchy is the ultimate dog-eat-dog, survival of the fittest ideology, where those on top exploit and ground under those below them so as to rise their own status and/or maintain it (or, in the Marxist sense, use Others’ labor to increase their own wealth) and/or just to have peoples who they can position themselves against, feel superior to, be the privileged. The primary mouthpieces for this are Captain Quinn and Lord Bullingdon, who both emphasize the lowness of those lower than them. In the case of Lord Bullingdon (with reinforcement by the narrator), he essentially speaks for a whole class who will not allow a “low” “outsider” in.

Race/Ethnicity: Here we get most glaringly spelled out how an ethnicity/race (English) is signified as superior and another ethnicity/race (Irish) is signified as “low,” which, in turn, for the relentlessly told “low,” are so conditioned to believe themselves “low.”

All told, these three ideologies (or each alone) alienate one not only from others but from one’s Self, e.g., one’s heritage, one’s sense of self-worth, one’s feeling of wholeness, and so on. In other words, such (self) destructive ideologies create an absolute “lack” that an individual can never fill, will spend a lifetime filling only to find that such a pursuit was self-defeating in the first place. More to the point, a point that Kubrick reveals again and again in his films, such dehumanizing ideologies are inherently dehumanizing…predatory, creating a dog-eat-dog, survival of the fittest sensibility.

The other element in this film that to my mind is just so powerful is how Kubrick creates some of the most sumptuous compositions in all of cinema. It would be enough to say how breathtaking these compositions are but for Kubrick of course that isn’t enough, he actually has to give them meaning as well. Most pointedly, to my mind, what Kubrick does via these exquisite shots is show how “empty” the privileged are; that is, because their focus is so much on prestige, power, image, and status, they have literally become all surface and no depth, in effect, emptying themselves of all meaning including that which defines us as human beings, empathy, sympathy, love. Further, through such self-absorbed stresses, these characters can only be self-centered, which, in turn, means they cannot care about Others (Irish, women, lower class, fellow human beings), and, in fact, need to see Others as “low” so as to see themselves as superior, e.g., keep that status-image of themselves in place. Adding to the complexity of this idea, when the Reverend Runt injects the personal into the institutional marriage vow (“And therefore is not in any way to be enterprised nor taken in hand unadvisedly lightly or wantonly to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites like brute beasts that have no understanding”), he is insinuating his own perception of Barry as primal, carnal, a “brute beast” who only desires to feed his appetites. And, at this point, he is right! In effect, he is revealing the Real that is hidden inside of this surface coating of beauty and reverence, e.g., that he is speaking about Barry ostensibly refers to Barry but as we see in the rest of the film, this applies to the elites in this film as well. Indeed, one could argue that when Barry fully succumbs to a class (elite, privileged) ideology is when he loses his humanity, especially as this way of being treats women as disposable bodies (objects). Indeed, Lady Lyndon’s complete abandonment of any sense of agency I suspect is also Kubrick’s suggestion that women at this time – in this very specific environment of patriarchal, phallocentric power and privilege – were generally forced to be passive possessions (objects), which Kubrick also captures in his static images of Lady Lyndon.

In sum, like most of Kubrick’s work — though perhaps in the most palpable way yet — Kubrick creates a (glossy) surface/Real binary, creating just some of the most beautifully composed shots (surfaces) in film history and yet within that beauty is the “horror” of the human condition. Within this context, the duel itself becomes especially relevant, a stylized, ritual embellishment of what amounts to a primitive (still primitive man–see my 2001: A Space Odyssey blurb), survival of the fittest, predatory sensibility.

(7) A Clockwork Orange (1971)

For me, A Clockwork Orange is easily the most difficult Kubrick film to watch. The images of violation to women is disturbing to say the least and just in general, the film is just so dang abrasive. But, as I tell my students all the time, there are filmmakers/artists who contribute to the ugliness of the world and then there are filmmakers/artists who reveal the ugliness of the world and then get at the root causes of this ugliness. I would strongly argue that Kubrick falls into the latter category. Of course, the scenes of violation are arguably necessary just to accentuate our deeply felt repulsion of Alex, which, in turn, gets at one of the often cited reasons for why this film is just so important: Having repugnant Alex in turn “violated” (he is subjected to a mind experiment where his cognition is altered) tests our human rights principles of never stripping an individual’s “free will” from him or her no matter how monstrous the individual. By doing that, we become in effect “rapists” ourselves, violating Others for the often cited reason that the ends justify the means, or, that “criminals” (or at least the most detestable “criminals”) no longer have human rights and thus their “ends” no longer matter. This element in the film is indeed quite potent, especially in terms of how Kubrick plays it out in the film, forcing us to unbelievably see Alex’s humanity as he is reduced to a helpless “victim” of Others’ torture of him. In this way, Kubrick reveals that even the very worst monsters are at bottom still “human” even if their humanity stems not from them but rather as they signify humanity in the abstract (e.g., in seeing Alex suffer we see not Alex anymore but a generic human being, making the torture of him by otherwise good human beings feel monstrous, e.g., reveal how monstrous such deeds are.).

Having said all that, for me, the deeper element in this film lies in Kubrick’s examination of the root causes of the objectification of – and violence against – women, not to mention that he explores the root causes of the monstrousness of Alex himself and the (phallocentric, patriarchal) institutions that undergird society. In his own sardonic way, Kubrick reveals this root cause via an abundance of phallic symbols in the films, many of which are indeed penis shaped, which, by the way, need not be the case (e.g., a phallic object need not be shaped in the shape of a penis). In this context, again, to my mind, what makes this film utterly radical is in its contention of just how destructive this phallic drive is in our society/western culture. Much like he does in Dr. Strangelove (see below), I would argue that Kubrick here is also saying that society is built upon this destructive phallic (patriarchal, hypermasculine, phallocentric) power, from religion (the snake reference, the phallic dancing Jesuses, the phallic references in the Bible, the phallic mural, the patriarchal priest) to science (and its castrating treatment) to institutional control (the prison system) to the political apparatus and its castrating power (e.g., castrating Alex), all of which by the way take on as their power the ideological program of “punishment” and control and violation rather than rehabilitation. In effect, then, Alex and his droogies are merely reflecting a phallic power that incubated them to their present state. The other element here is how this phallic drive utterly objectifies and dehumanizes women, as seen of course in the Kordova Milkbar but also seen in the décor and paintings of other spaces and of course the actions of Alex and his droogies, rape being also less about sex than about power and humiliation (as it always is). The ending moment especially punctuates all of this: Alex, Dim, and Georgie all retain their viscous Self, but now it is channeled for the needs of the “state,” making them arguably more dangerous than they were before, because now they have state power to give them cover and sanction their violence. In this way, even though I think Alex is essentially the same person at the end, in some ways he is not. I would argue that the system – the prison system, the Ludivico Treatment, the political machinations – make his maliciousness something more mature, weighted, and dangerous. I base this on his fantasies: In his earlier fantasies, the images he fantasized about were essentially about him getting pleasure from violence or being violent; in his last fantasy image, he imagines himself on stage with the world applauding his debauchery, a kind of elevated sense of his position in this new world of politics and power.

(6) 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

To my mind, 2001: A Space Odyssey is simply one of the most audacious films ever made! It is also one of the most important and influential science fiction films ever made. From reading some science fiction fan sites (and teaching the film several times), I get the sense that many science fiction fans don’t like the film, largely because it doesn’t conform to their sense of what a science fiction film is supposed to look and feel like, e.g., the escapist Star Wars effect on science fiction. That is, many (most?) science fiction fans ultimately want to be “entertained” in some fashion or another, not have to work for meaning or merely appreciate art for art’s sake. And I can understand that view, since I hated the film the first time I saw it too! I still remember watching it in my early 20s and wondering what the f*** is this! Why is this film considered one of the greatest science fiction films ever? It is SOOO boring! Now, of course, I appreciate the film so much more. The film is just masterfully constructed and just so rich in many layers of meaning, not to mention that the film may be the most experiential film ever made, the viewing of it being an intimate (spiritual, profound) experience rather than just a mode of entertainment or art appreciation. Perhaps more than any film Kubrick has made (I suppose one could make an argument for Eyes Wide Shut as well), this film’s richness stems from its ambiguity, from its wealth of possible readings. I can’t possibly do the film justice in a blurb (one of these days I’ll post my personal in-depth reading of the film) but I will try to touch on some of what I see as key points of importance: To my mind, if one just reads this film in a vacuum, then, as I say, many readings are possible, but if one reads this film as part of an auteur study – what I’m doing here – then we can narrow the possible readings of this film. In short, for me, this film very much fits with Kubrick’s overall vision, a deeply cynical view of humanity, which we can get if we just isolate Kubrick’s crucial beginning moment (really, to my mind, this opening moment informs his whole oeuvre), where we get primitive “man” fighting for territory, water rights, and then, in a key evolutionary moment for mankind, “man’s” evolutionary “advancement,” creating a tool and then using that tool to kill another “man.” And then primitive “man’s” killing tool (a bone) gets thrown in the air and in one of the most famous and complex edits in film history, gets turned into a space ship, the point being that though we may advance ourselves technologically, we are still that same primitive “man” who fought over territory and killed each other. We get this idea potently punctuated — Kubrick still very much in Strangelovian (ironic, absurd) territory here — in that moment when American Heywood Floyd confronts a group of Russians and we get this primitive “man” echo, e.g., this moment is in essence the two primitive “man” clans squaring off against each other again, just with more fake cordiality: Apparently, we aren’t killing each other anymore (though of course this “cold” war echo registers the real deaths that this “war” effected) but humans are still territorial, duplicitous, hypocritical, power hungry, etc. We get this conflictual (primitive “man”) sensibility again when Heywood Floyd gives his little speech. I don’t think it is an accident that Kubrick strategically places an American flag in the background while Floyd talks. Here we again see humans covering up, being territorial (again, harkening back to the territorial primitive “man” and their fighting over the pool of water) and keeping secrets, and indirectly threatening the scientists, telling them that they have to sign security documents swearing them to secrecy. (And, earlier, because of this need for secrecy they denied an emergency flight permission to land, perhaps jeopardizing that crew.)

Most famously of course is perhaps the most famous AI (artificial intelligence) in science fiction, the memorable HAL. To my mind, there are a couple of possibilities here: HAL “malfunctions” (and it it is stated several times that the HAL 9000 series never errors or malfunctions) because he is forced to lie and keep a secret from the crew. For some reason, this drives HAL “insane” so to speak. Perhaps it forces him to somehow reconcile two contradictory programs, one telling him to be duplicitous and the other to take “care” of his fellow crew mates. (And we get that curious moment where it almost seems as if HAL is crying for help when he tries to talk to Dave about the mission, Dave being utterly unresponsive, a moment that provocatively registers a larger crazy sensibility that HAL seems more expressive, more emotional than the crew!) In other words, it is as if they force HAL to take on the less desirable traits of humanity, the traits of lying and keeping secrets and being deceptive. In this case, we have HAL (as I say above) “malfunctioning” because of his programmers instilling in him irrational (“human”) behavior which he can’t reconcile with his otherwise altruistic Self.

Another possibility: HAL “malfunctions” because he is merely “killing” to survive. Or, finally, he “malfunctions” because, to his mind, by deciding to “kill” him, Bowman and Poole have threatened the mission, which HAL cannot allow. It is interesting to note, that in the later two cases, HAL takes on a “survival of the fittest” sensibility, a “human trait” and one that must have also been passed on to (programmed into) HAL. Even more interesting is to think of HAL’s programming emphasizing the importance of the mission, perhaps even to the point of making the human bodies disposable, which is perhaps why he was so quick to kill them off. In any case, it would seem that it is less HAL’s fault than it is “human error.” (And we keep getting a reflection of Dave and Frank in HAL’s “all seeing” “eye,” creating a very interesting kind of mirror effect.) In this context, then, HAL is not allowed to be an evolutionary AI but instead is just another variation of the bone tool that primitive “man” used against its Self centuries before, humans continuing on their self-destructive path.

The ending of the film is much talked about, a mind blowing ending that to my mind is just so suggestive of two very different readings of the film, a hopeful ending and a deeply cynical, bleak reading: For the former, whether it be aliens or God and whether it be via negative or positive acts, the final “star-child” moment is a positive, hopeful one, a new beginning and/or the next stage of a more healthy form of humanity. In terms of the later — again, based on my overall view of Kubrick, the reading I favor — that humanity and its violent, survival-of-the-fittest, dog-eat-dog sensibility makes it a dead-end species (again, despite our advanced technological state, Kubrick doesn’t think we have evolved much at all), which, in turn, makes this ending moment not necessarily a hopeful one but rather a deeply cynical one: The “star child” is not a new beginning for humanity but rather something else entirely, a new species altogether. (By the way, many fans and scholars believe that the ending of Arthur C. Clarke’s – who co-wrote the screenplay of this film – interesting novel Childhood’s End informs this reading.)

Finally, just a comment on the “monolith,” perhaps the most ambiguous signifier in the film: I find this reading the most compelling: Just in figurative terms, the monolith determines humanity’s fate: Arguably, this reading fits for much of Kubrick’s work: That we have little choice in the world but are determined by higher powers, e.g. ideologies (especially phallocentric, patriarchal ideologies—which would make the “monolith” a phallic symbol), technologies (or, in this case, an “alien” presence) determine us.

(5) Paths of Glory (1957)

To my mind, Kubrick’s two war films – Paths of Glory and Full Metal Jacket — are two of the very few (I can count them on one hand) authentic mainstream fictional anti-war films. Thus, for me, these two films are two of the most important war films ever made. Kubrick loves to deconstruct ideological conceptions such as “patriotism” and (taking from the title of the film) “glory,” revealing how these are merely terms used to exploit and manipulate people to do power’s bidding. Kubrick doesn’t give us a war film that romantically valorizes “heroism,” “glory,” “patriotism,” and all of the other ideological terms associated with war; rather, he reveals a predatory, dog-eat-dog, survival of the fittest sensibility, especially in terms of how those in power use and exploit those under them for their own gain. The deeper implication of this pursuit is a crucial, crucial point for Kubrick, which we began to see as early as his first film Fear and Desire: Kubrick was not interested in the deeply ideological conception of nation state loyalties; rather, he was more interested in humanity as a species. That is, in a truly radical (ideological) meditation, Kubrick breaks down the very notion of an arbitrary ideological constructed notion of “nation” (not “natural and normal”) and makes humanity our should-be realized focus. In this way, he didn’t care about the “enemy” — and thus never really focuses on the “enemy” in his three war films, much less demonize them — because ultimately we are all the same, which is why war is so “absurd” because we are ultimately doing the ultimate absurdity: Kill our Self! And so, Kubrick’s focus in Paths of Glory is not on the ostensible enemy of the French, e.g., the Germans, but rather a focus on those in power and the ideologies that inform their oppressive tactics to oppress the men under their charge, to get them to “kill” their Self. Using more symbolism in Paths of Glory than I think he does in any other film, Kubrick diagrams visually this sensibility of how those in power view the men they send to war, as, in effect (using the language of the film), “ants,” or, disposable bodies. More particularly, Kubrick “maps” out this dichotomous sensibility through several signifiers: Space and décor take on critical meaning: The chateau itself, the ornate decor and furniture, the paintings, the enormous spaces, and so on point to not just power and privilege but also to a past were royalty and the ruling class decided people’s fates like gods. To them, the lower classes often meant little to nothing, to be used as they saw fit. Kubrick wants to suggest I think that times haven’t really changed all that much.

Further testifying to this deeply oppressive sensibility (the elite seeing the “low” as disposable), the trial sequence is another fundamental allegorical moment, where Kubrick reveals how the ruling class exerts its will on Others. The men here are literally “pawns” (that “chess board” design is no accident, a much commented on image in Kubrick lore!) at the disposal of god-like men. Moreover, Kubrick places the men in this trial sequence in one of his prisms of power, here that being not only the chateau itself but also within the circle of officers and enforcement personnel (symbols of power) that surround them. This is further emphasized by the interesting choice of placing the camera outside this circle of power, especially behind the judges. Further, in the execution scene the chateau looms over the men as they march to their deaths, becoming the symbolic icon of power that reigns over all the men’s lives, again, an allegorical figuration of this dominating sensibility for lower/working class peoples throughout history, e.g., that their fate is not their own but  predetermined by ideological forces.

Finally, we see in Paths of Glory a crucial deconstructing focus that Kubrick would expand and deepen in later works, his disquisition on phallocentrism, patriarchy, and hypermasculinity ideologies; or, how these ideologies inform so much of our self-destructive drives. We see this element especially with the many lines in the film (Mireau: “They’ve got milk in their veins”); the “coward” motif in the film (especially the Roget thread but of course that this is the main focus of the general’s persecution of the men) and the disturbing “shell shocked” man moment (and, again, Mireau’s simplistic words afterward: “Get a grip on yourself! You’re acting like a coward!”). The generals use masculinity as one of their primary ways to manipulate the men to follow through with their conditioning and not be “cowards,” “act like men” and “charge” even if it is a suicidal charge. Similarly, in the face of his unjust and meaningless death, the Sergeant tells Paris to “act like a man” even though such dignity only contributes to the cleanness (order) of the execution — “the men died bravely” and “with dignity” — as if that is the point of the execution. Ferol’s behavior was much more disconcerting, which, to my mind, better reveals the “disorder” of a system that coerces men to “act bravely” and die rather than act cowardly and reveal what a whole farce (absurdity) war is!

I have to just add one final point, a kind of hyper-exaggeration of Kubrick’s larger focus on the “absurdity” of war: It is the height of Kubrickian black humor to put near-death Arnaud on the firing line, a hyper-exclamation of absurdity (again, a key term for Kubrick)! But then that is one of Kubrick’s agendas: Via exaggeration, to point out the absurdities of human choices, actions, ideologies, and institutions.

(4) Eyes Wide Shut (1999)

My sense is that Eyes Wide Shut is not a favorite among Kubrick fans, nor especially liked by people in general, but, to my mind, despite its challenges (yes, it is another Barry Lyndon, a long and slowly paced film) it is one of Kubrick’s most complex and deep, and, for me, satisfying films. Here again, this film is densely layered with complex symbolism and meanings, so I can only scratch the surface here. Perhaps the dislike of this film also comes from its deeply felt cynicism, bordering on nihilism I think, the film exploring a purely consumerist state of being where one lives for one’s hedonistic sensations and appetites, a state of degradation that, in turn, degrades everything and everyone around us. Of course, where we especially get this emptied-of-meaning way of being is in the Somerton “ritual-orgy” space, where we get the façade of ritual, emphasized by the masks, the movements, the music, the language, and the choreography of the participants. everything played out like an ancient tribal ritual of some kind, but here the ritual is emptied out of any meaning. The elites – or plutocrats – of this age need something in their lives to give them a sense of meaning and here they create a strange world that at least has the pretense of something substantive, but like everything else in their world it is merely surface decoration and hollowed out of anything that once was meaningful, e.g., the spirituality that is attached to the true ritual signifiers of indigenous tribes. Further echoing this idea of a wholly degraded world is Kubrick’s choice to set this film during the Christmas season. Kubrick strikingly marks this Christmas signifier by putting a Christmas tree in every space except the ritual-orgy space and by permeating his mise-en-scenes with other Christmas signifiers. Of course, Christmas is supposed to be a profound spiritual holiday/ritual where people connect to each other in intimate bonding, a historical, cultural, familial, religious tradition. What Kubrick reveals though is a Christmas as cold and empty and artificial as the ritual-orgy space. Most conspicuous in this sense is that excessive light display at the Ziegler Christmas party, the lights though I would say not exuding warmth or some Christmas spiritualism but rather purely excess and superficiality, signaling how Christmas has become utterly commodified and decorous.

To my mind, the real key, though, to understanding the power of this film is in it doing something that few films attempt to do: In short, simply put, Kubrick does in Eyes Wide Shut what he does in most of his films, reveal how most of us move in one reality with our “eyes wide shut” while the REAL stays hidden from view (or if not hidden, denied or ignored). So, for example, in that early Ziegler space, Kubrick collapses the glossy surface signifiers (e.g., the excessive lights and glitz and enormous space of Ziegler’s home) with Christmas codings (e.g., the Ziegler party is also a Christmas party) hyper-emphasizing this emptied-of-meaning moment, especially as this beautifully glossy surface in fact hides the ugly “REAL,” e.g., in the back room (behind the curtain) we get the monstrousness of the likes of Ziegler, who treats women as disposable bodies for his hedonist consumption (e.g., Mandy, who he used for his sexual desires, has overdosed).

This hidden real is especially exemplified in this objectification of women in the film, the main thrust of Kubrick’s focus on the depravity of humankind. That is, the women in the ritual-orgy space are shown to be utterly objectified, becoming objects to be consumed – or “sacrificed” – by their elite patrons. Throughout the film we see how women are utterly commodified, turned into objects to be consumed. The scene where the owner of the costume shop prostitutes his daughter figures importantly in this context; moreover, the emphasis of Mandy being a former beauty pageant contestant also registers how such seemingly innocuous institutions are very much part of this objectification of women, making them in effect “trophies” to be pursued for all the wrong reasons. Punctuating this thread in the film is how Kubrick films almost all of his nude women in situations where they should not be desired. So, we get the overdosed Mandy; we get the beautiful nude woman that Bill is checking for breast cancer; we get all the women in the ritual-orgy moment, with masks on, again, clearly them being used for their bodies alone, fetishized, objectified, erasing their individuality, making their value only dictated for their bodies and what their bodies are worth for these uber rich elites, the ultimate form of dehumanizing; and then, in the ultimate marker of this, we get Mandy’s nude body again, albeit this time on a slab, dead. The only nude body that perhaps doesn’t fit this mode is Alice herself, though I would argue that she too is objectified, largely a “trophy” wife for her husband, living for his pleasures and utility, thus even her nudity fits with the other women in the film. Moreover, especially in the ritual-orgy space, sex too is shown as instrumentalized and degraded, e.g., we see how sex has become pure carnality, where not even a face is attached to a body.

Finally, I want to just touch on the rich “mask” motif in the film, perhaps the most rich use of this often used metaphorical device in film history. Here again, I can’t fully explicate the depth and breadth of this register but in short, as I read it, the “mask” motif also speaks to the hidden Real. That is, in literal terms, those in power in particular wear masks, masks that hide their Real indiscretions. That is, those in power act one way in public but carry out transgressive acts behind closed doors, which is figuratively allegorized in the ritual-orgy sequence, where the real “masks” that they wear speak to their desire to give license to their most carnal appetites, though, because this means making Others disposable (consumable), we can allegorize this element as well, e.g., the masked elite in the ritual orgy space also speaking to how elites devour and consume Others in general, deeply suggestive of the allegorical value of these figures, stand-ins for CEOs, presidents, figures of power who represent the power (transnational, global, capitalist) elite of the world who live to consume Others, especially women.

(3) The Shining (1980)

Probably the most popular Kubrick film and a film favorite in general (it often makes lists of favorite horror films) is of course The Shining. Because of its density, The Shining is another film that is difficult to encapsulate! As I’ve repeatedly conveyed here, Kubrick is a filmmaker who consistently offered up deconstructive visions of American ideologies. As he does in most of his films — as I’ve conveyed previously — in this film Kubrick reveals the REAL lurking below the glossy surface. The glossy surface of the hotel seems ordered, functional, harmonious, but the Real below the surface is really chaotic, disordered, disharmonious. But here is the more pointed way to read this film, its deeply profound allegorical register: If the hotel is a metaphor for America (as I think it is) then the glossy surface is America and the Real is its “cannibalistic” past and present. In other words, just like the Overlook Hotel (as in a hotel/America that has “overlooked” its past transgressions) has built its wealth on the annihilation of Native Americans, America has built its wealth and power on the grounding under of Others, not just Native Americans, but African Americans, women, the working class, children, and so on. Like the Donner party (referenced in the film), America “eats” its own (the cannibalism metaphor). So the eruption of blood that we see in the film is a figurative eruption of our societal (ideological, humanity’s) “return of the repressed.” That is, for me, the eruption of blood signifies America’s violent past and its suppression/oppression (consumption) of Others. In this framing, Jack’s desire to be one of the “best people” (e.g., especially exemplified in his conspicuously verbalized “white man’s burden” comment) allegorically makes him the stand-in for America, and his ensuing “consumption” (“big bad wolf”) of his family and Hallorann are appropriately figurative stand-ins for what American ideologies (patriarchy, phallocentrism, hypermasculinity, capitalism) having been doing to Others for centuries, consuming them.

(2) Dr. Strangelove (1964)

As may be apparent by now (if you have been reading the above blurbs), I believe that perhaps Kubrick’s key focus is on masculinity constructions; or, more particularly, phallocentric, patriarchal, hypermasculine ideological constructions. He at least makes this a part of his focus in almost all of his films though he most especially focuses on this element in Dr. Strangelove and Full Metal Jacket, which is in part why they are my two favorite Kubrick films. That is, Kubrick not only deconstructs the mythos around these ideologies (for centuries, but especially in American history – especially in the last hundred years or so – phallocentrism, patriarchy, hypermasculinity have been romanticized, valorized) but he reveals them to be destructive ideologies both in general terms (which is why I would argue that Kubrick is a feminist!) and to men themselves. In Dr. Strangelove, via his many outlandish (and hilarious) phallic symbols – especially as he gives us “the most potent phallic symbol in film history, the atom bomb itself, amusingly placed between the legs of Major T. J. “King” Kong – and his hilarious names (Jack D. Ripper, Buck Turgidson, etc.) and through many other symbolic signifiers (the Doomsday Machine), Kubrick not only rips the veil off of the normalizing and valorizing nature of phallocentric, patriarchal, hypermasculine ideologies – again, revealing them to be both absurd and seriously (Self) destructive. As with Kubrick’s most complex films, I can’t possibly get at the many layers of complexity with this film. To perhaps touch on this complexity, let me finish here with an excerpt from an essay I’m just now putting the finishing touches on (I’ll link to it after I’ve published it), an excerpt that I think kind of sums up the power of yet another audacious (and hilarious!) Kubrick film:

“That the atomic bomb is between Kong’s legs explicitly ‘endows’ him with not just any phallic symbol but the mother of all phallic symbols. The key here then is this packaging of phallic symbols (cowboy hat and Hollywood Western genre heritage, e.g., Kong played by cowboy actor Slim Pickens and his character talks ‘cowboy’ rhetoric, not to mention that he rides the atom bomb down rodeo style, hootin’ and hollerin’ all the way down) and the ultimate destructive phallic symbol (atom bomb), an intersection that makes this moment more than just another phallic symbol (even if it is perhaps the most potent phallic symbol in film history!): Digging a little deeper, one could perhaps read this moment more provocatively: It isn’t an atom bomb that destroys the world; rather, it is a ‘cowboy’ (e.g., in this case Kong) who destroys the world. Since the ‘cowboy’ (frontier) sensibility of American patriarchal, phallocentric, hypermasculine masculinity has a specific ideology – that violence is a natural and normal solution to conflict; that authoritarian, hierarchal, patriarchal (non-critical) thinking is the encouraged norm; that one thinks reactively rather than contemplatively; that emotional and empathetic reactions should be suppressed; that masculinity is based on a single-minded dedication to bravery, heroism, sacrifice, purpose (rather than contemplating consequences), and extraordinary abilities; that the world is set in black and white (good and evil) terms – all of which informs Kong’s decision to blindly carry out his self-destructive mission, we can take this meaning even further: This ideology of a ‘cowboy’ sensibility goes hand-in-hand with – is informed by and informs – even more omnipotent ideologies in the film, the ideologies of patriarchy, phallocentricism, hypermasculinity. And, thus: It isn’t just a ‘cowboy’ who destroys the world, it is, in short, patriarchal, phallocentric, hypermasculine ideologies.”

(1) Full Metal Jacket (1987)

Like Dr. Strangelove, Full Metal Jacket potently reveals the destructive capacity of phallocentric, patriarchal, hypermasculine ideologies. For this film, though, Kubrick expands his focus to include how phallocentric, patriarchal, hypermasculine identity formations are constructed, yes, via boot camp training, but, through his many other symbolic signifiers and ideological intersections (e.g., John Wayne signifier, The Lone Ranger signifier, the western genre motif, etc.) he shows how this examination is merely reflective of a deeper cultural and ideological conditioning of men in general. Kubrick’s most complex point in this film is how phallocentric, patriarchal, hypermasculine identity formations are intricately and devastatingly interconnected to other destructive ideologies, e.g., manifest destiny, “white man’s burden,” “city upon a hill,” etc. Here again is another excerpt from the same essay cited above:

“Full Metal Jacket more explicitly stresses this focus of manifest destiny (and, by extension, our frontier heritage) in that it represents a war – the Vietnam War – that becomes an explicit extension of America’s manifest destiny ideology. Kubrick didactically manifests this ideology in the scene where the men compare the Vietnamese enemy to ‘Indians’ and in the more disturbing scene where a colonel chides Joker for his ‘peace sign’ and lack of commitment to the ’cause,’ saying that ‘We are here to help the Vietnamese because inside every gook there is an American trying to get out’ (Kubrick punctuating this disturbing polemic with a row of dead Vietnamese in the background, covered in white lime) Adding to this mix is the recurring references to how ‘God is on our side’ a direct reference to American’s ‘city upon a hill’ and ‘white man’s burden’ ideology. In her essay ‘Full-Metal-Jacketing, or Masculinity in the Making,’ Paula Willoquet-Maricondi similarly observes: ‘Kubrick stages the masculinization process to show that the myth of masculinity is bound to another central myth that forms the basis of American nationalism: the myth of ‘the city upon a hill’ which manifests itself through the belief in American idealism and technological invincibility.’ Intricately under girding this ideology is a manifest patriarchy – the colonel chides and patronizes Joker, echoing the paternal hierarchy of the military – especially as it informs the strategy used by the Marine Corps, a patriarchal institution if there ever was one. What this complex strain in American ideology informs is a deeply ingrained patriarchal, phallocentric hypermasculine masculinity.”