Lise’s review published on Letterboxd:
Not watched as part of the annual Hal's Birthday community viewing.
Warning: what follows is corny. Just sayin'.
I didn't watch it this year. Instead I stayed in our upstairs theatre and watched Jane Austen's Sense and Sensitibility (the Emma Thompson version) with headphones, cause the noise from Jonathan watching 2001 downstairs was deafening.
I didn't watch it this year. But I heard it. I heard it many times. Of those times, it is still that first time that says something to me. The Dashwood women were getting comfortable in their new cottage after being kicked out of their family home. Their father died, see, and the women couldn't inherit, cause that's the law the guys created. A male step-son (or distant cousin, I forget the lengths at which they will go to find a male that can do the trick) inherited the house and kicked them out with barely a penny. Then I heard the music from downstairs.
I knew the bone had been thrown. Now it was space. A new chapter. A step down for the Dashwood women, a giant step forward (?) for mankind. And I could hear the joy. The joy Kubrick intended. The dance. Man dancing with the universe. It's always been done, of course. We look up at the sky and reflect or dance depending on our mood. Kubrick chose to dance. Having seen Sense and Sensibility before, I knew the Dashwood sisters would end up dancing as well, just not in tandem. Right now they were being controlled by rules that didn't play nice. Rules created by men to benefit men. To push the darned analogy, they are puppets like Dave.
The song is over. I'm back to the Dashwoods. Isn't it crazy how that music forever evokes one particular visual? I don't know if I should be happy or really really sad.