2001: A Space Odyssey

Stanley Kubrick's hands-down masterpiece, probably the greatest science fiction film we have seen (Tarkovsky's 'Solaris'?), that was released in 1968.
This is a sublimely beautiful, most un-Hollywood, monster of a film. Let us first simply mention the technical skill and panache; the shots and the effects have really not dated at all. It looks much more spectacular, the ships and so on, than, for example, 'Star Wars'. This is because Kubrick is a great capturer of images, and these just happen top be spaceships. He understands shadows, lights, camera movement, hiding, duration of shot.
The slow, mechanical-ish camera speeds beautifully mirror the central aesthetic of the film. This is the deliberate, cold, clean, harsh and tight mechanics of high technology in an outer space where there are no germs. Kubrick has created a world, and the mis-en-shot mirroring the pod doors opening does just that.
As does the music, or rather the sound. This is perhaps the most interesting aspect of the film, Kubrick being, to throw this out there, perhaps the most advanced and indeed greatest user of sound in cinematic history. First we have the music, which is shocking and charming. The non-diagetic sound would usually be looked down upon by us, but here it is part of the artistic achievement; it is not a narrative device, but rather a complement to the images. The even more impressive use of sound though is when the music isn't there; in the silences. It is almost like the sound of a faraway vacuum, the deafening silence, the cold clipped sounds that can interrupt. It is all about atmosphere, and space has never sounded so evocative.
The lack of dialogue gives the piece a wonderful sharp clarity, and makes it such an arresting, confident, artisticly fascinating and wonderful diversion from classic narrative fare. Speed and linear structure are not really necessary, this is a film whose themes become the narrative itself (especially towards the end). This is specially noticeable when we consider the start of the film, which though pointless in a traditional narrative sense expertly frames our thematic structure.
For the plot that there is, the clipped tones make for a short parable that strikes directly to the bone. The performance of Keir Dullea is wonderful, incredibly directed by Kubrick without words; the looks, the tiny flickering eyes, the intensity of expression and cleanliness of movement.
This is an exotic film that takes as its locale the most incredibly realised mis-en-scene, perhaps, in cinema history. Sound and images come together to create this masterwork. That, we suppose, is what film is.