2001 (1968)

More ink (and now pixels) has been spilled on “2001” than any other film with the possible exception of “Citizen Kane.” For all its ambiguity and incomprehensible references, it remains a stunning achievement. While Stanley Kubrick, the director and screenwriter, and Arthur C. Clark, who wrote the story that “2001” is based on have made various statements about the film, I’m only concerned with what the film says. Critics and viewers have argued long into the night trying to discover what this film really means and while I really don’t want to re-plow the scarred ground of those discussions, it’s clear to me what this film isn’t about.

It’s not about narrative and it’s not about language. Not in the conventional ways we understand these things in films. Which is why, along with Jean-Luc Godard’s “Alphaville,” “2001” is in a distant realm from the usual techno-babble drama.
The film is presented in three parts and it is the middle section that involves the computer. The basic gist of the section is that a mysterious, alien monolith on Earth’s moon is sending radio signals toward Jupiter and a space ship called Discovery is sent to investigate. The crew, two conscious and three in suspended animation, are not yet aware of the nature of the mission to Jupiter. But Hal, the HAL 9000 computer — a sentient artificial intelligence device that controls the ship, carries on conversations, plays chess and can see as well as a human — has the particulars of the mission in his memory banks.

One failing of Kubrick’s vision is not realizing that computers shrink as they evolve. There was no anticipation of microprocessors or something like them. All the signs were present for that anticipation. In 1964, Moore’s Law — Gordon Moore was a co-founder of Intel — stated that the number of transistors per square inch on integrated circuits would double every year. Computers in 1964 were huge by today’s standards but nowhere near the size of ENIAC or UNIVAC. It’s also odd that the HAL 9000 was built in 1992 yet never had a revision or update in over eight years. There’s no 9000cx or 9000si or 9056.

For a look at NASA's use of computers circa 1968, go here.

In the real year 2001, optical character reading was a hit and miss endeavor and the facial recognition software that is the mainstay of TV cop shows these days are in reality a complete failure. So Hal’s lip-reading is a bit of a stretch as anything but a dramatic device but to bog down in technical realities is to misread Hal’s role in “2001.”

At some point on the way to Jupiter, Hal makes a mistake and a HAL 9000 has never, ever made a mistake and so the crew discusses disconnecting it. In response, Hal decides to kill the crew. Hal succeeds in killing all but one and it is that crewmember that pulls Hal’s memory bank and logic functions. (Oddly, this is the only computer film where pulling the plug is an option. In “Gog,” opening the panel and “smashing the tubes” was suggested, but it is only in “2001” that it actually happens.)

What might explain Hal’s breakdown is that Hal is a fifth-generation artificial intelligence machine trapped in the body of a third-generation computer. Hal can simulate human intelligence but it’s still run by integrated circuits and semiconductors. Fifth generation computers utilizing artificial intelligence will, more than likely, use nanotechnology and be about the size of an iPod if they take a separate form rather than being imbedded into the environment.

Some people will say that Hal is the epitome and personification of technophobia and while that’s the general consensus of the critics it completely misses the point. Consider some of the theories that have been floated about Hal:

Was Hal gay? This a theory offered here and it bases much of its conclusions on the musings and life of the legendary computer genius Alan Turing. Turing was a there-at-the-creation computer theorist and mathematician who worked on decoding German transmissions during World War II. Books have been written about Turing but what is salient here is Turing’s concept of artificial and simulated intelligence and whether a difference can be detected. In the early 1950s, he predicted that an artificial intelligence machine would be a reality by the end of the century. But Turing didn’t make it past the ‘50s. While his homosexuality was tolerated during the war years, after the dust settled he was persecuted, arrested and forced on chemical therapy. Supposedly, his favorite movie was “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” and he committed suicide in 1954 by biting into a cyanide-laced apple. (Which puts an interesting spin on the Apple Computer logo.) While a fun parlor game, Hal’s silica sexualis seems somewhat irrelevant to the breakdown, if that’s what it was.

Was Hal guilt ridden? According to this theory, Hal just can’t handle knowing the true nature of the mission and being forced to keep that secret from the crew drives Hal over the edge. If you’re a therapy junkie who slouches toward the Freudian, this might make sense, may lend some validation and may even resonate but it is an empty speculation.

Hal is not the screen for the projections of sexuality or a dustbin for the discarded and bankrupt theories of Sigmund Freud. First and foremost, Hal is a computer and Kubrick describes the failure of the machine and the simulated human factor in a subtle and engaging way. Hal’s first mistake was probably missed by 98% of the viewers and it involved the chess game.

Kubrick, according to numerous reports, was a chess freak and what Hal and a crewmember are playing is a famous match known as the Immortal Game. During the endgame Hal informs the crewmember that the crewmember will lose and describes the moves to checkmate. The crewmember resigns and the game is over. But Hal describes the moves inaccurately and while only a chess maven would know, it is still a mistake that a computer wouldn’t make. (This is the same chess game that Eldon Tyrell and J. F. Sebastian are playing in “Blade Runner.”) It is immediately after this game that Hal announces the problem with the radio transmitter.

It is the second mistake, the one concerning the radio transmitter, that prompts the discussion among the crewmembers about disconnecting Hal’s higher cognitive functions. And it is then that Hal responds as a simulated intelligence. Self-preservation is the driving force behind Hal’s actions. Computers don’t know that they’re making mistakes. Sometimes they can’t even display the correct error message. What we have here is a caveman with a thighbone club trying to survive, as in the first section of the film. If Hal had planned on killing the crew as some product of sexuality or guilt or other silly theory, Hal would have done it on the first extra vehicular activity. But Hal doesn’t because Hal doesn’t know that Hal is wrong about the chess game or the mean time to failure of the radio transmitter. All Hal knows is that the crew is going to lobotomize Hal’s circuits and that information is only available after the first EVA.

If Hal is a metaphor for anything, it is for the next jump in the evolutionary plane or at least the next jump in the movie: Hal is us. Whether the intelligence is simulated or artificial, the result is the same. Dave Bowman, the surviving crewman, disconnects everything that Dave won’t need beyond Jupiter. Dave yanks the memory and logic modules of the artificial intelligence machine. It is almost a Samuel Beckett moment: To live without memory or habit. To be stuck in space alone and crossing over to some bizarre reality where logic and memory is the kind of baggage that should have been lost by the airline but was yanked out of a machine bent on a pointless self-preservation. This is where “2001” slides into the transcendental ambiguity of its conclusion. Dave may be able to bring Hal back to the moment of birth and childhood by pulling circuits but something else must bring him — and us — to that same jumping off place to begin understanding the monolith and the universe.

Or something like that.

Many thanks to Matt Wright for the film.