Space Odyssey

I hadn't seen 2001: A Space Odyssey in 25 years, which is kind of mind-boggling. The first time was at the University Theatre, the mindless destruction of which still irks me. It was a beautiful theatre with 70mm capability, and I remember being blown away by the spaceship rotating to The Blue Danube and the crazy psychedelic rush of the trip to god knows where. I also remember being horrified by people watching it on TV a few years later. That is just wrong.
This time I went to the TIFF Lightbox, which is showing a 70mm print of 2001 in its almost frighteningly soundproof theatre. And it's still amazing. What I loved the most: the art direction—the prescient snappy retro-futuristic look of the space station, the freaky modern-classical house where Keir Dullea clinks his cutlery and ages, the rolling Escher-like spaceship, the little bars that have to be keyed one by one to shut down HAL—the music, both Strausses; HAL, of course; and yes, that intensely colourful hallucinogenic trip. I also love how I still have no idea what it all REALLY MEANS. But virtually every sci fi movie owes it a huge debt.