Remembering Stanley Kubrick

by William Wetmore

Attempting to describe the visual majesty of a Stanley Kubrick film can be likened to giving a Creative Writing major the task of describing a sunset. It simply mustn’t be done. Being that as it is, I shall instead only do my best to express my appreciation of these unforgettable experiences through a series of favorite moments, so that any of you out there who have not yet had the pleasure might be even more inclined to see these wondrous films. A genius has left us, but I hope it may always be said that his remarkable vision still remains. Ahhhh…

Killer’s Kiss (1955): Serving as a terrific precursor to the very great and also very different boxing films Rocky and Raging Bull, this early noir piece of Kubrick’s is definitely an hour and seven minutes well spent. My favorite scene is, of course, the fight scene, which is shot in real time and without the annoyingly superfluous commentators and musical melodrama. All Kubrick permits the audience to hear is the smack of the gloves, and the dim roar of the crowd — giving one the feel of actually being in the ring and really losing royally.

The Killing (1956): “If people didn’t have any headaches, what would that do to the aspirin industry?” The Killing spends much of its time as an intentionally comic-bookish crime-caper with the fortune of having both sharp dialogue and dually believable and sympathetic characters. But as entertaining as the methodical set-up and crescendo of the robbery are, it is the last ten minutes that truly demonstrate the greatness and purposefulness of the film as a whole. I can reveal no more without breaking my promise.

Spartacus (1960): “You’re strong enough to be weak,” Spartacus’s wife whispers to him after she has just revealed that they will soon have a child: a free child! This film’s power comes not by its sheer grandiosity as with other epics of ancient times, but rather by its pervading respect for the era and issues at hand. Spartacus carefully avoids most of the kitsch trappings that consumed similar films of its time (i.e. anything with ol’ Heston) — aspects which earned such cinema the mockery it later received. A friend of mine once remarked that this film “could be so bad!” Indeed, it could have been, and, through the lens of any other director, probably would have been. To end with a lovely quote from just before Spartacus is to return to the slavery of the gladiatorial arena, “Are you afraid to die Spartacus?” And the answer that only Kirk Douglas could pull off: “No more than I was afraid to be born.”

Dr. Strangelove (1966): “Gentleman, you can’t fight in here, this is the war room.” Never has the universal annihilation of humankind been so damn hilarious! It all comes to an uproarious conclusion as Peter Sellers’s title character (Sellers actually gives a Waldoian quality to this film, playing many assorted roles — see how many times you can spot him!) proposes a post-bomb scenario that would not only assure the survival of humanity but would also fulfill the libido of George C. Scott, creating a Master Race all at the same time! Strangelove’s scheme is foiled, however, due to the perpetual worry of a commie “mine-shaft gap.”

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968): As with many college sophomores, this one happens to be my favorite, and I too claim it’s for reasons quite a bit more profound than the “trippy lights at the end.” In the context of Cold War bickering and nuclear terror, this non-linear delight threw forth a grand spotlight of hope for humankind’s unsure and vastly technical future. At the same time, it revealed a unique perspective on human history and evolution. This one is almost thoroughly visual, so I think at this point I shall keep to my promise.

Clockwork Orange (1971): Ultra-violence, Beethoven, and really funny looking jock-straps; this psycho-political jewel has it all! Not for the squeamish, but Kubrick’s films rarely are. My favorite sequence comes after Alex has received his “treatment,” as he belts forth another rendition of “Singing in the Rain,” with the realization of his identity storming across the face of his former victim turned benefactor. Please handle with care, and please no copycat crimes!

The Shining (1982): Inevitably, REDRUM, REDRUM! This was, is, and always will be, by far, the scariest movie I have ever seen. My favorite slice is the revelation of Mr. Nicholson’s massive writing portfolio. Now this man is fit to write for the Daily! Dear God, the madness! This film once again proves that whatever genre Kubrick chose, he mastered. I am glad every day of my life that I did not see this movie as a child.

Full Metal Jacket (1987): “This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it, as I must master my life. Without me, my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will. Before God, I swear this creed. My rifle and myself are the defenders of my country. We are the masters of my enemy. We are the saviors of my life. So be it, until there is no enemy, but peace. Amen.”

This is the greatest film about the Vietnam War, or at least the greatest film about the Vietnam War filmed in London. It is broken into two very distinct parts, making it seem almost like two films. The Parris Island half is certainly the most memorable and disturbing section, for the reasons why you continuously find yourself laughing.

Fans of Lolita and Barry Lyndon, you have my deepest apologies for their exclusion. MR

This article was published in the 31 March 1999 edition of The Michigan Review (Volume 17, Number 9).
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