The humans in 2001 are devoid of emotion, from the flight attendants’ serene smiles to the investigator’s pat responses to his daughter on the picturephone. …all the human characters in the ‘modern age’ are sleeping with their eyes closed for most of the movie, even when they’re flying around in space.
I’ve always seen 2001 as an apocalyptically pessimistic film about the unchanging darkness of human nature – and it wouldn’t be hard to argue that this was Kubrick’s meta-theme throughout his career.
The high comedy of 2001 is that it’s filled with the trappings of human “progress”…it encapsulates our rise from snuffling apes to star-spanning technogods, when in fact the movie’s theme is that we’ve made no progress at all. As if to mock our spaceward leap, all of the characters are in a perpetual, self-induced state of apathy, oblivious to the wonders scrolling by their windows. Bowman’s treadmill run, in addition to being a neat cinematic trick, is a singular statement on this theme.
(I think of Floyd’s Pan Am flight whenever I’m on a plane, and do my best to watch out the window and drink in the vistas.)
HAL’s artificial consciousness is a tool, a creation of man…and thus, in Kubrick’s estimation, every bit as suspicious as the bone in the ape’s hand. Inherently murderous at every stage of his evolution, man produces inherently murderous tools, and HAL’s tragedy is that he has of course inherited the “neuroses” (importantly, pride and fear) of the organic consciousnesses that programmed him. Which leads me to…
HAL kills for self-preservation
This has always been my interpretation. HAL only begins to contemplate murder when he realizes the boys are having doubts about him. He only commits the act after he lip-reads their plans to shut him down for maintenance. His mournful pleas as Bowman pulls his plug are nothing if not a primal begging for survival. HAL displays the self-interest and lizard instincts of actual human consciousness…the same qualities that led his ape “forebears” to ambush one another around the waterhole.
But doesn’t 2001 end in a vision of hope and rebirth and unimaginable advancement? Not a chance. In the movie up to that point, we’ve twice seen how man’s lurches up the evolutionary ladder lead to the same old bullshit…fear and desire. The beauty of the Star-Child is a mirage, and a last laugh from Kubrick. What should be a glorious and awe-inspiring “fresh start” will, inevitably, end in the same ape-like thuggishness we’ve always resorted to, only with increasingly more impressive tools at our disposal.
For what is the very next image Kubrick presents us with after the close-up beauty of the infant Star-Child? It’s the close-up leer of Alex in the first frame of A Clockwork Orange.
The Star-Child will grow up, and when he does, he’ll continue man’s legacy of whackin’ muthafuckaz.