“2001: A Space Odyssey,” directed by Stanley Kubrick (1965-68; GB/United States). Film still. © Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.
In 1947, a time in which global nuclear war seemed highly probable, the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists created what is known as the “Doomsday Clock,” an imaginary clock developed to help quantify the likelihood of a human-caused global catastrophe. Midnight designated the point of armageddon and, working backward from that point, earlier times indicated diminishing nuclear threat. The Bulletin still meets periodically to update the time, which, as of January 2018 sits at 11:58 — a mere two minutes to midnight, the smallest-ever number on record since 1953 when the United States and Soviet Union began testing hydrogen bombs. The clock was popularized in Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 political satire “Dr. Strangelove,” which cleverly explored our unrelenting capacity for self-destruction. And as we sit precariously at 11:58 — teetering on the cusp of global nuclear or environmental meltdown — Kubrick’s work, like the prophetic clock, remains as relevant today as ever.
With that in mind, the CCCB presents a comprehensive and timely exhibition of the director’s prolific career. As Kubrick noted: “If it can be written, or thought, it can be filmed.” Indeed, if it can be collected, it can be curated, too. The teams in each of the cities that the exhibition previously visited brought their own unique flavor to the collection, and the Barcelona team has cleverly crafted its own display around its labyrinthian galleries with a particular focus on previously undisplayed objects to mark this year’s 50th anniversary of Kubrick’s “2001: A Space Odyssey.”
The winding nature of the displays at the CCCB takes the visitor on a journey through Kubrick’s creative processes. In many ways, this maze feels like the sort of web we might see in one of his films. As we move through the chronology of Kubrick’s body of work, we become acquainted with his steady development over the years, as well as the recurring themes for which he became so well-known: violence, desire, obsession and our path towards self-destruction.
The exhibition begins with an introductory audiovisual biographical installation that segues
into a deep exploration of 12 of Kubrick’s biggest movies, before concluding with some incomplete projects picked up by other artists after his death. Throughout it all, visitors are
greeted with a selection of treasures on which to feast. From the correspondence with religious pressure groups opposed to the production of “Lolita” and the iconic outfits worn
by Alex DeLarge’s bloodthirsty gang of droogs in “A Clockwork Orange,” to Jack Torrance’s
typewriter and the eerie carpeting of “The Shining”'s Overlook Hotel, to miniature models
of the groundbreaking set of “2001: A Space Odyssey.” And, of course, no Kubrick
retrospective in Spain would be complete without a solid nod to “Spartacus,” whose epic battle scenes were filmed in La Mancha and Madrid. Each of Kubrick’s films is given ample
attention, showcasing previously unfamiliar materials that help shed fresh light on his intentions and desires.
In addition to iconic props found on screen, the collection of Kubrick’s personal effects —
research and production documents, correspondence with talent and filmmaking equipment — is simply staggering. While the costumes and models are certainly emblematic, it is this rich archive material that offers a glimpse into the mind of one of the greatest and most influential filmmakers of the 20th century. With 600 objects to choose from, there is much to absorb. And at the end of it all, if you’ve a Kubrick itch left to scratch, you can twin your visit with one of the many screenings accompanying the exhibition over at Filmoteca de Catalunya.