MAJOR POLL #1: 2001: A Space Odyssey vs Blade Runner

northerncrane4 said:When you weigh how both films handle the relationship between creator and created cognitive being—and I mean this with all due respect to Blade Runner, which I absolutely love—Blade Runner feels like a children's picture book by comparison.

I don't know about that. I’d say the approach in Odyssey is more like a catechism—it just lays out what's happening. It's like Genesis in the Old Testament. So, where's the intellectual challenge in an artistic sense there?

Blade Runner hits closer to home regarding that issue—it shows just how bloody and messed up being part of that whole process really is. And honestly, isn't that exactly what art is supposed to do?

Jerry Martin19 said:I’d rather compare Solaris with 2001: A Space Odyssey. The movies feel more alike, which makes them better candidates for a comparison...

Just to be clear, if I were taking this poll, I'd be clicking on 2001: A Space Odyssey in a heartbeat.

Man, we really do have wildly different takes on art, don't we? If it were me, I’d pick Solaris in a heartbeat. (And yeah, I'm talking about the one by Tarkovsky, just so we're clear!) It's that kind of movie that doesn't feel the need to explain itself or spell everything out for you. It just hits you with the big questions and leaves it at that.

northerncrane4 said:When you weigh how both films handle the relationship between creator and created cognitive being—and I mean this with all due respect to Blade Runner, which I absolutely love—Blade Runner feels like a children's picture book by comparison.

I'm with you.

Chloe Nguyen said:The fundamental issue with these kinds of debates is that if I were to state which one I prefer, most people would (incorrectly) assume I’m implying the other is inferior.

In reality, both films are absolute masterpieces, albeit in entirely different ways, and their primary connection is simply the genre they inhabit. I suspect any argument regarding which one holds more merit would eventually just devolve into a debate over Kubrick's direction, which, I suppose, isn't necessarily everyone's cup of tea.

Ultimately, I found myself leaning toward Blade Runner for one solitary reason: it is much more watchable and, frankly, more accessible. I have revisited it numerous times, and I suspect that if I were forced to choose which film to spend an evening with, I would almost certainly pick Blade Runner.

True.

In the end, I went with Blade Runner for one reason: it's more watchable, more accessible. I've seen it countless times, and if I had to choose a movie for the night, I'd almost always pick Blade Runner.

That’s exactly my point. It’s more accessible to the audience, which is why most people prefer it. That's the mistake, though—most people haven't even bothered to sit down and try to wrap their heads around Odyssey.
So, anyone voting for Blade Runner? In my opinion, they didn't put enough effort into Odyssey. I'd go as far as saying they didn't try at all.🙂

Arthur Anderson49 said:Khmmmm... could someone argue that it's actually kind of intellectually shallow? 🤣

Well, yeah—it’s basically built on just one relatively interesting premise... everything else feels pretty dry, aside from the computer going insane... hmm, true enough... 😁

northerncrane4 said:In 2001, humans are gods too. And it isn't linear—it's cyclical.

I mean, okay, it's cyclical in two different cycles... you see it clearly, and yeah, people become gods—well, compared to a computer losing its mind—though back then, people were also losing it because they were staring down the barrel of WWIII... 🙂

Arthur Anderson49 said:Man, we really do have wildly different takes on art, don't we? If it were me, I’d pick Solaris in a heartbeat. (And yeah, I'm talking about the one by Tarkovsky, just so we're clear!) It's that kind of movie that doesn't feel the need to explain itself or spell everything out for you. It just hits you with the big questions and leaves it at that.

Obviously, Solaris by Tarkovsky is a given. I think it's good and I respect it, but it’s nowhere near Odyssey.

I actually have a question for you. It wasn't meant to be provocative, even if it sounds that way. How does the datedness of those worn-out Sci-Fi tropes in Solaris not bother you? Especially since it was made after Odyssey, and based on an idea much older than Clarke's. Let me clarify. The namesake novel by Stanisław Lem that the Solaris movie is based on came out in 1961, while Odyssey (book and novel) is based on short stories by Arthur C. Clarke written way before Solaris. One of those stories, which specifically served as inspiration for Kubrick's film, was written all the way back in 1948. Not trying to lie to you—it's all on Wikipedia. And honestly, even if I'm wrong, I still want to know why those things don't bug you in Solaris when they clearly bother you in Odyssey?

As for the whole "asking questions" thing, Kubrick's film does it just as skillfully—so skillfully that there are no answers. That ending was designed to be vague and impossible to pin down. The only real answer the director gives us at the end is precisely that we actually don't know anything. Arthur C. Clarke once said: ''If you understand 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) completely, we failed. We wanted to raise far more questions than we have answered.'' (c/p from IMDb)

Jerry Martin19 said:Obviously, Solaris by Tarkovsky is a given. I think it's good and I respect it, but it’s nowhere near Odyssey.

I actually have a question for you. It wasn't meant to be provocative, even if it sounds that way. How does the datedness of those worn-out Sci-Fi tropes in Solaris not bother you? Especially since it was made after Odyssey, and based on an idea much older than Clarke's. Let me clarify. The namesake novel by Stanisław Lem that the Solaris movie is based on came out in 1961, while Odyssey (book and novel) is based on short stories by Arthur C. Clarke written way before Solaris. One of those stories, which specifically served as inspiration for Kubrick's film, was written all the way back in 1948. Not trying to lie to you—it's all on Wikipedia. And honestly, even if I'm wrong, I still want to know why those things don't bug you in Solaris when they clearly bother you in Odyssey?

As for the whole "asking questions" thing, Kubrick's film does it just as skillfully—so skillfully that there are no answers. That ending was designed to be vague and impossible to pin down. The only real answer the director gives us at the end is precisely that we actually don't know anything. Arthur C. Clarke once said: ''If you understand 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) completely, we failed. We wanted to raise far more questions than we have answered.'' (c/p from IMDb)

The answer is actually pretty simple—just because an idea is old doesn't mean it's outdated or irrelevant. It’s not about how long something has been around; it's about whether it still works! Someone once explained this to me on another sub, and it really clicked: look at Plato’s philosophy. I mean, that stuff is nearly two and a half thousand years old, yet it still keeps thinkers totally hooked, and philosophers are still out there churning out massive essays based on his framework today. So, you can't exactly call it "worn out," right?

So, I’ve been sitting here chewing on this little idea... what do you guys think? Just a random thought that popped into my head! I can't believe I'm actually sitting here typing this out, but we seriously need to talk about the sheer scale of what we're discussing! Is it just me, or does every single deep dive into this topic feel like we're spiraling deeper into a rabbit hole? Honestly, it's kind of thrilling, isn't it? I mean, when you really stop to think about the implications of everything being laid out on the table, it’s enough to make your head spin! Who even knew things could get this intense? Honestly, I feel like the stuff meant to spark human consciousness or push our intelligence forward is just completely tapped out. At least on that basic, fundamental level, there's nothing left to say! I mean, come on—*Odyssey* doesn't actually offer anything new that that crazy German guy with all those wild theories about ancient South American civilizations hadn't already thrown at us. [EDIT: von Däniken]

So, Kubrick launches into this whole concept, clearly trying his hardest to blow our minds with it. But honestly, what's the actual payoff here? Is he actually hitting the mark, or is it just all style and no substance? So, what are we actually looking at here? What are the real-world implications? When you start peeling back the layers on this, it’s pretty wild how much everything shifts! Are we talking about a massive ripple effect that touches every single part of our lives, or just a minor hiccup in the grand scheme of things? Honestly, I can't stop thinking about how this could change the whole game for us! What do you guys think? Is this going to be a total revolution or just more of the same? What about all those big ideas? Where exactly are they leading us? Is this just going to screw us over in the end? And honestly, how are we even supposed to find our footing in all of this? You know what? None of that actually matters. There's no point in worrying about it. All we really have is what Americans call... Gosh-wow! It’s all about the effect, right? You sit there staring at this absolutely breathtaking visual, and honestly, it just blows your mind. It's stunning! But here's the thing—is that actually enough? Sure, being dazzled is great, but if there's no real intellectual meat on the bones, what are we even doing? Where's the challenge for your brain?

You know, if you look at how Stanisław Lem approaches things—and then even Tarkovsky, though he does it in his own unique, haunting way—they’re asking questions that haven't been exhausted yet. They dive deep into the demons we manufacture inside our own minds, and that terrifying possibility that those internal monsters might actually break free and manifest as something much more tangible than just a digital glitch or a psychological concept. Honestly, I’m worried this is going to remain one of those eternal, unsolvable dilemmas, even though Sci-Fi has been obsessively tackling it for decades, both in literature and on the big screen. Just think back to how brilliant *Forbidden Planet* was all the way back in 1956!

When it comes to actually asking those big, heavy-hitting questions, Kubrick does it so incredibly well. I mean, he’s so skillful at posing them that you honestly can't find an answer anywhere. Even that ending? It was clearly designed to be ambiguous and totally impossible to pin down. I think the only real message the director leaves us with at the end is the realization that, at the end of the day, we really don't know anything! As Arthur C. Clarke once said:If you’re walking away from *2001: A Space Odyssey* feeling like you didn't get enough answers, then honestly, we totally missed the mark! The whole point wasn't to hand us a neat little summary on a silver platter, right? We were supposed to be left staring at the screen, drowning in way more questions than we actually have answers to!'' (I can't believe I'm actually doing this! I'm going to copy and paste everything right here for you guys! Get ready! (from IMDb)

To be totally honest with you guys, even after all these years—and I’m talking about my first, second, and third viewings—I still don't see those deep philosophical layers everyone keeps talking about. But hey, I’m not even surprised! If I'm being real, I never felt like Clarke's ideas were particularly profound on a philosophical level. Sure, they are spectacular? Absolutely. Are they incredibly engaging? You bet. But truly deep? Not really. It’s just pure "Gosh-wow" factor for me. They feel totally superior in scale, but that's about where the depth ends, you know what I mean? high-class Gosh-wow, I really don't want to sell him short, but honestly, I can't go any further than that! These are just absolutely stunning visual books for adults. They pair together perfectly, much like Kubrick's work. They really found their perfect match, didn't they?

Arthur Anderson49 said:The answer is actually pretty simple—just because an idea is old doesn't mean it's outdated or irrelevant. It’s not about how long something has been around; it's about whether it still works! Someone once explained this to me on another sub, and it really clicked: look at Plato’s philosophy. I mean, that stuff is nearly two and a half thousand years old, yet it still keeps thinkers totally hooked, and philosophers are still out there churning out massive essays based on his framework today. So, you can't exactly call it "worn out," right?

So, I’ve been sitting here chewing on this little idea... what do you guys think? Just a random thought that popped into my head! I can't believe I'm actually sitting here typing this out, but we seriously need to talk about the sheer scale of what we're discussing! Is it just me, or does every single deep dive into this topic feel like we're spiraling deeper into a rabbit hole? Honestly, it's kind of thrilling, isn't it? I mean, when you really stop to think about the implications of everything being laid out on the table, it’s enough to make your head spin! Who even knew things could get this intense? Honestly, I feel like the stuff meant to spark human consciousness or push our intelligence forward is just completely tapped out. At least on that basic, fundamental level, there's nothing left to say! I mean, come on—*Odyssey* doesn't actually offer anything new that that crazy German guy with all those wild theories about ancient South American civilizations hadn't already thrown at us. [EDIT: von Däniken]

So, Kubrick launches into this whole concept, clearly trying his hardest to blow our minds with it. But honestly, what's the actual payoff here? Is he actually hitting the mark, or is it just all style and no substance? So, what are we actually looking at here? What are the real-world implications? When you start peeling back the layers on this, it’s pretty wild how much everything shifts! Are we talking about a massive ripple effect that touches every single part of our lives, or just a minor hiccup in the grand scheme of things? Honestly, I can't stop thinking about how this could change the whole game for us! What do you guys think? Is this going to be a total revolution or just more of the same? What about all those big ideas? Where exactly are they leading us? Is this just going to screw us over in the end? And honestly, how are we even supposed to find our footing in all of this? You know what? None of that actually matters. There's no point in worrying about it. All we really have is what Americans call... Gosh-wow! It’s all about the effect, right? You sit there staring at this absolutely breathtaking visual, and honestly, it just blows your mind. It's stunning! But here's the thing—is that actually enough? Sure, being dazzled is great, but if there's no real intellectual meat on the bones, what are we even doing? Where's the challenge for your brain?

You know, if you look at how Stanisław Lem approaches things—and then even Tarkovsky, though he does it in his own unique, haunting way—they’re asking questions that haven't been exhausted yet. They dive deep into the demons we manufacture inside our own minds, and that terrifying possibility that those internal monsters might actually break free and manifest as something much more tangible than just a digital glitch or a psychological concept. Honestly, I’m worried this is going to remain one of those eternal, unsolvable dilemmas, even though Sci-Fi has been obsessively tackling it for decades, both in literature and on the big screen. Just think back to how brilliant *Forbidden Planet* was all the way back in 1956!

When it comes to actually asking those big, heavy-hitting questions, Kubrick does it so incredibly well. I mean, he’s so skillful at posing them that you honestly can't find an answer anywhere. Even that ending? It was clearly designed to be ambiguous and totally impossible to pin down. I think the only real message the director leaves us with at the end is the realization that, at the end of the day, we really don't know anything! As Arthur C. Clarke once said:If you’re walking away from *2001: A Space Odyssey* feeling like you didn't get enough answers, then honestly, we totally missed the mark! The whole point wasn't to hand us a neat little summary on a silver platter, right? We were supposed to be left staring at the screen, drowning in way more questions than we actually have answers to!'' (I can't believe I'm actually doing this! I'm going to copy and paste everything right here for you guys! Get ready! (from IMDb)

To be totally honest with you guys, even after all these years—and I’m talking about my first, second, and third viewings—I still don't see those deep philosophical layers everyone keeps talking about. But hey, I’m not even surprised! If I'm being real, I never felt like Clarke's ideas were particularly profound on a philosophical level. Sure, they are spectacular? Absolutely. Are they incredibly engaging? You bet. But truly deep? Not really. It’s just pure "Gosh-wow" factor for me. They feel totally superior in scale, but that's about where the depth ends, you know what I mean? high-class Gosh-wow, I really don't want to sell him short, but honestly, I can't go any further than that! These are just absolutely stunning visual books for adults. They pair together perfectly, much like Kubrick's work. They really found their perfect match, didn't they?

You missed something...Some kind of idea... aliena The stuff that actually drives human consciousness and intelligence is just... gone...It’s not in... Odyssey....aliens... They’re just witnesses to our progress from the beginning of time onward. They aren't an explanation, a motive, or an answer. Just the mere fact that they exist... aliens... They’re basically just searching for answers and chasing the truth themselves, which really just shows they have their own version of God...

The questions you're looking for are baked into everything. Take the monolith, for instance. Because it’s physical, tangible, and visible—at least within our limited perception—it exists as a fact that someone, or something, built it. But for us humans, the actual concept of the monolith is totally beyond us. Trying to grasp what that extraterrestrial object really is would be like a primitive ancestor trying to understand modern tech... no matter how much we've evolved, some things just don't click. It’s the same for us viewers. There aren't any neat explanations or hints, just a massive pile of unanswered questions. The whole movie is just one infinite ribbon of mysteries. It’s humanity's journey, our own... Odyssey... It feels just like Tarkovsky's version on the inside, only presented in a way that hits you harder... Tarkovsky has a really interesting approach, but he leans way too much on script tropes during the big moments... lineHe tries to use words to paint a picture that would be way more effective if you just saw it... he's trying to describe how these characters feel and think through dialogue, but that's where it loses its punch. You don't really run into that problem with Kubrick, though I still respect the film. That ending is heavy, though...

To be honest, even after years of rewatching this movie two or three times, I still don't see what everyone's talking about. Not that it surprises me. Truthfully, I never felt like Clarke’s ideas were particularly deep from a philosophical standpoint. They're spectacular, sure—visually stunning and definitely interesting—but they lack real depth. Just pure Gosh-wow, if you know what I mean. In my opinion, they're just totally superficial... high-class Gosh-wow, I don't want to undersell him, but let's not overdo it either. His stuff works like incredible graphic novels for adults. Reminds me of Kubrick. They really hit it off...

this part of your post is dragging us back into that debate from the previous page, and we really don't want to go there...

p.s. Forbidden Planet is an absolute masterpiece in my book too.

Arthur Anderson49 said:Man, the only thing it changes is my perspective on my own ego! It isn't deep at all. Honestly? It’s just a gorgeous picture book built on a few Sci-Fi ideas that had already been totally exhausted in literature by then. In terms of the genre, this movie didn't bring anything new to the table. As a cinematic experience, sure, it captured that naive sense of wonder regarding space travel. But in books? You couldn't sell that anymore because it had been done and dusted for thirty years prior. The only reason it felt fresh was the technology—finally, we had the tools to make it look spectacular on screen.

While 2001: A Space Odyssey is beautifully made, its intellectual substance is pretty thin. The "challenge" it offers is really only for people who get off on pretty space vistas or folks experiencing Sci-Fi for the very first time.

So, it’s an incredible film for people who know nothing about Sci-Fi. For anyone who actually knows their stuff, it’s just a flashy coffee table book.

Now, Blade Runner? That is much heavier, more layered, and way more complex. I truly believe it will remain relevant as art for much longer. It introduced an entirely new paradigm to Sci-Fi, which eventually paved the way for the whole cyberpunk movement. It delivered one of those rare subgenres that actually still makes sense in the 21st century. It was a straight-up revolutionary film.

Just look at the massive footprint it left on the genre. Meanwhile, the Odyssey barely left a trace. It stands alone as what it always was—visually striking, but artistically and conceptually pretty empty.

:)))
"artistically and conceptually empty" haha :)) wow, you really cracked me up there :)
it'll get better...

my vote goes to Blade Runner

Jerry Martin19 said:You missed something...Some kind of idea... aliena The stuff that actually drives human consciousness and intelligence is just... gone...It’s not in... Odyssey....aliens... They’re just witnesses to our progress from the beginning of time onward. They aren't an explanation, a motive, or an answer. Just the mere fact that they exist... aliens... They’re basically just searching for answers and chasing the truth themselves, which really just shows they have their own version of God...

The questions you're looking for are baked into everything. Take the monolith, for instance. Because it’s physical, tangible, and visible—at least within our limited perception—it exists as a fact that someone, or something, built it. But for us humans, the actual concept of the monolith is totally beyond us. Trying to grasp what that extraterrestrial object really is would be like a primitive ancestor trying to understand modern tech... no matter how much we've evolved, some things just don't click. It’s the same for us viewers. There aren't any neat explanations or hints, just a massive pile of unanswered questions. The whole movie is just one infinite ribbon of mysteries. It’s humanity's journey, our own... Odyssey... It feels just like Tarkovsky's version on the inside, only presented in a way that hits you harder... Tarkovsky has a really interesting approach, but he leans way too much on script tropes during the big moments... lineHe tries to use words to paint a picture that would be way more effective if you just saw it... he's trying to describe how these characters feel and think through dialogue, but that's where it loses its punch. You don't really run into that problem with Kubrick, though I still respect the film. That ending is heavy, though...

To be honest, even after years of rewatching this movie two or three times, I still don't see what everyone's talking about. Not that it surprises me. Truthfully, I never felt like Clarke’s ideas were particularly deep from a philosophical standpoint. They're spectacular, sure—visually stunning and definitely interesting—but they lack real depth. Just pure Gosh-wow, if you know what I mean. In my opinion, they're just totally superficial... high-class Gosh-wow, I don't want to undersell him, but let's not overdo it either. His stuff works like incredible graphic novels for adults. Reminds me of Kubrick. They really hit it off...

this part of your post is dragging us back into that debate from the previous page, and we really don't want to go there...

p.s. Forbidden Planet is an absolute masterpiece in my book too.

Look, it’s pretty clear that you and I define basic concepts like a "question" in totally different ways. To you, even something as simple as "Wait, what is this?" counts as a question. And sure, in a literal sense, it is! That’s exactly the kind of question the Odyssey poses. But from an artistic standpoint? That isn't really a question. That's why I keep saying the Odyssey is artistically empty. Its questions are just banal rather than profound. They might look visually spectacular, and if you aren't "plugged in" to the world of Sci-Fi, they might seem fresh or even interesting.

To me? Not at all. And clearly, the heavy-hitting artists working in this genre didn't think so either, which is why the Odyssey hasn't left a massive footprint in the genre, unlike Blade Runner, which had a huge impact.

this part of your post is pushing us back into that debate format from the previous page, and we don't want that...

Honestly, I have no clue who you guys are or what specific "format" you're talking about. But hey, if the conversation starts heading in a direction you don't like, you're always more than welcome to just ignore me!

In any case, it’s an Odyssey. Luckily, I stumbled upon a Flash page right here on this forum that breaks down some of the motifs Kubrick uses quite simply; since I hadn't quite grasped them or fully understood them before, it really helped me finally wrap my head around the story being told. I read the novel by Clarke that the movie was based on a long time ago, and there aren't actually many connections between them. To me, it's a top-tier art film, but of course, a film like that isn't going to leave a mark on today's fast-food cinema, just like it didn't leave one for Tarkovsky 🙂)), if you know what I mean—I'm talking about Hollywood, right? -.- Blade Runner is your typical blockbuster with a strong plot and high production value. But still, since so many people are obsessed with Blade Runner, I guess I'll have to watch it again; I think there's a certain charm to it, especially since that kind of storytelling and noir atmosphere are so rare these days. There's just almost no good, "human" Sci-Fi left nowadays...

Personally, I find Odyssey to be more enjoyable and fun to watch, though I have to admit Arthur Anderson49 makes a fair point—Blade Runner definitely hits those deeper existential notes he’s rambling about. 🙂

I'm not clicking on any of those.

Arthur Anderson49 said:Look, it’s pretty clear that you and I define basic concepts like a "question" in totally different ways. To you, even something as simple as "Wait, what is this?" counts as a question. And sure, in a literal sense, it is! That’s exactly the kind of question the Odyssey poses. But from an artistic standpoint? That isn't really a question. That's why I keep saying the Odyssey is artistically empty. Its questions are just banal rather than profound. They might look visually spectacular, and if you aren't "plugged in" to the world of Sci-Fi, they might seem fresh or even interesting.

To me? Not at all. And clearly, the heavy-hitting artists working in this genre didn't think so either, which is why the Odyssey hasn't left a massive footprint in the genre, unlike Blade Runner, which had a huge impact.

this part of your post is pushing us back into that debate format from the previous page, and we don't want that...

Honestly, I have no clue who you guys are or what specific "format" you're talking about. But hey, if the conversation starts heading in a direction you don't like, you're always more than welcome to just ignore me!

Is the question "What is Man's current and ultimate position in Space?" Or "What is Consciousness, and how does it correlate with Life?" Or "Is the catalyst for human progress a human artifact sent through time in an infinite loop?" Or even the banal "Who is Odysseus in 2001: A Space Odyssey, and who is the Cyclops?"

Because those are all the questions I am asking when I watch Kubrick's film. Meanwhile, "Blade Runner" just tells me, "Life is a beautiful phenomenon—let's cherish it."

Jerry Martinez6 said:In any case, it’s an Odyssey. Luckily, I stumbled upon a Flash page right here on this forum that breaks down some of the motifs Kubrick uses quite simply; since I hadn't quite grasped them or fully understood them before, it really helped me finally wrap my head around the story being told. I read the novel by Clarke that the movie was based on a long time ago, and there aren't actually many connections between them. To me, it's a top-tier art film, but of course, a film like that isn't going to leave a mark on today's fast-food cinema, just like it didn't leave one for Tarkovsky 🙂)), if you know what I mean—I'm talking about Hollywood, right? -.- Blade Runner is your typical blockbuster with a strong plot and high production value. But still, since so many people are obsessed with Blade Runner, I guess I'll have to watch it again; I think there's a certain charm to it, especially since that kind of storytelling and noir atmosphere are so rare these days. There's just almost no good, "human" Sci-Fi left nowadays...

Well... I wouldn't call it "typical." Just look at the casting! From start to finish—with the minor exception of Harrison Ford, who was known but definitely wasn't a massive superstar yet—it was basically a cast of unknowns. That’s not really how you make a blockbuster, is it? And honestly, those unknown actors were picked perfectly; they were so good that almost all of them went on to have incredible careers later on. Plus, it doesn't fit the mold atmosphere-wise either—you even mentioned yourself that using a "film noir" vibe for that genre wasn't exactly common practice back then. Finally, blockbusters usually try to please the crowd. I don't see anyone being "pleased" by Blade Runner!

There just isn't much good "human" Sci-Fi left today...

But that is exactly my point! The real issue with three-quarters of modern Sci-Fi is that it feels so mechanical. There's zero deep thought, zero philosophy, and barely any actual humanity in it. That’s precisely why Blade Runner hit so hard—because it was such a departure from the norm!

But here’s the thing—the absolute bottom line that everyone seems to conveniently forget—Blade Runner was a total disaster at the box office. It wasn't some massive hit; it didn't even make back its twenty-million-dollar budget, let alone turn a profit. Critics absolutely slaughtered it, and audiences basically gave it a wide berth because they just didn't get what it was trying to do. Nowadays, everyone acts like an expert on why the movie is a masterpiece (and hey, I'm definitely guilty of that too), but the cold, hard truth is that it was branded a huge flop... there was even a point where the director tried to wash his hands of the whole mess by blaming the producers right after the reviews came out. Even Ford barely brings it up, mostly because he once admitted he wasn't even sure what the damn movie was supposed to be about in the first place.

Arthur Anderson49 said:Look, it’s pretty clear that you and I define basic concepts like a "question" in totally different ways. To you, even something as simple as "Wait, what is this?" counts as a question. And sure, in a literal sense, it is! That’s exactly the kind of question the Odyssey poses. But from an artistic standpoint? That isn't really a question. That's why I keep saying the Odyssey is artistically empty. Its questions are just banal rather than profound. They might look visually spectacular, and if you aren't "plugged in" to the world of Sci-Fi, they might seem fresh or even interesting.

To me? Not at all. And clearly, the heavy-hitting artists working in this genre didn't think so either, which is why the Odyssey hasn't left a massive footprint in the genre, unlike Blade Runner, which had a huge impact.

this part of your post is pushing us back into that debate format from the previous page, and we don't want that...

Honestly, I have no clue who you guys are or what specific "format" you're talking about. But hey, if the conversation starts heading in a direction you don't like, you're always more than welcome to just ignore me!

I've got three magic words for you: "we disagree"

You can't just twist my definition of a "question" to fit your own narrative. It doesn't work like that.

And I don't even want to talk about art. If I used your logic regarding how Odyssey is empty, I could easily argue the exact opposite, and we'd end up getting absolutely nowhere...

I have no idea who you think you are or what kind of debate format you're talking about. But if this conversation is heading somewhere you don't like, you're always free to just ignore me.

I was talking about us. You specifically said you didn't want to engage in a "contrarian" debate, so I'm respecting that by not pushing it. I never once thought about putting you on ignore. Why would I do that?...

northerncrane4 said:Is the question "What is Man's current and ultimate position in Space?" Or "What is Consciousness, and how does it correlate with Life?" Or "Is the catalyst for human progress a human artifact sent through time in an infinite loop?" Or even the banal "Who is Odysseus in 2001: A Space Odyssey, and who is the Cyclops?"

Because those are all the questions I am asking when I watch Kubrick's film. Meanwhile, "Blade Runner" just tells me, "Life is a beautiful phenomenon—let's cherish it."

When it comes to humanity's spot in Space, Kubrick definitely has his say—and honestly, it isn't bad at all—but it's such a massive, sweeping question. It doesn't really hit anyone on a personal level, you know?

Think about it this way—you get hit much harder by nature when it puts a massive mountain range right in front of you, like the Rocky Mountains, compared to standing in the middle of the ocean with water stretching out as far as the eye can see. Even though the ocean is incomparably larger! Why is that? Because the mountain is something you can actually wrap your head around. You can look at yourself, look at that peak, and truly grasp the shocking gap in size, importance, and presence. The ocean, despite being infinitely bigger, is just too abstract for our brains to process.

That's why the question of whether replicants are mortal is so much more moving and, frankly, more important to the viewer than where humans sit in the cosmos. To hell with the vastness of Space if my lifespan is only five years and I've already burned through 90 percent of it! And all because someone decided that would be the most practical way to do things. The right to a single human life is incomparably more vital than the right of the entire human species to exist in Space, as paradoxical as that sounds. That second one is a sterile question. It matters for the two or three hours the movie runs. But the first one? That one sticks with you and screws with your head for the rest of your life.

The Odyssey (and Clarke, too) throws out all these fascinating but pretty clinical and abstract questions. They're things that rarely strike a deep chord with people because they don't touch us personally. Most folks experience them more like a cool curiosity rather than something of vital importance.

First off, I noticed you decided to address exactly one out of the four questions I actually asked.

Arthur Anderson49 said:When it comes to humanity's spot in Space, Kubrick definitely has his say—and honestly, it isn't bad at all—but it's such a massive, sweeping question. It doesn't really hit anyone on a personal level, you know?

Think about it this way—you get hit much harder by nature when it puts a massive mountain range right in front of you, like the Rocky Mountains, compared to standing in the middle of the ocean with water stretching out as far as the eye can see. Even though the ocean is incomparably larger! Why is that? Because the mountain is something you can actually wrap your head around. You can look at yourself, look at that peak, and truly grasp the shocking gap in size, importance, and presence. The ocean, despite being infinitely bigger, is just too abstract for our brains to process.

That's why the question of whether replicants are mortal is so much more moving and, frankly, more important to the viewer than where humans sit in the cosmos. To hell with the vastness of Space if my lifespan is only five years and I've already burned through 90 percent of it! And all because someone decided that would be the most practical way to do things. The right to a single human life is incomparably more vital than the right of the entire human species to exist in Space, as paradoxical as that sounds. That second one is a sterile question. It matters for the two or three hours the movie runs. But the first one? That one sticks with you and screws with your head for the rest of your life.

The Odyssey (and Clarke, too) throws out all these fascinating but pretty clinical and abstract questions. They're things that rarely strike a deep chord with people because they don't touch us personally. Most folks experience them more like a cool curiosity rather than something of vital importance.

No, it isn't to me. Maybe to you. 🤷

Arthur Anderson49 said:The mortality of replicants is incomparably more moving and, somehow, more important to the viewer than the question of humanity's place in Space. To hell with Space if my lifespan is five years and I've already burned through 90 percent of it—all because someone decided it was "practical." The right to a human life is undeniably more vital than the survival of the human species in Space, as paradoxical as that sounds.

When you mention "human life," you're trivializing things. The society in Blade Runner doesn't just produce humans. If by "human life" you mean "sentient life," then look at HAL 9000—a consciousness whose creators denied it the right to make mistakes (i.e., the right to be human, since to err is human). That is far more philosophical than a simple question of lifespan.

briskhound2 said:But here’s the thing—the absolute bottom line that everyone seems to conveniently forget—Blade Runner was a total disaster at the box office. It wasn't some massive hit; it didn't even make back its twenty-million-dollar budget, let alone turn a profit. Critics absolutely slaughtered it, and audiences basically gave it a wide berth because they just didn't get what it was trying to do. Nowadays, everyone acts like an expert on why the movie is a masterpiece (and hey, I'm definitely guilty of that too), but the cold, hard truth is that it was branded a huge flop... there was even a point where the director tried to wash his hands of the whole mess by blaming the producers right after the reviews came out. Even Ford barely brings it up, mostly because he once admitted he wasn't even sure what the damn movie was supposed to be about in the first place.

🙂 Truth bomb right there. But still, looking at the long game, the movie left a massive footprint on cinema.

I remember seeing it for the very first time way back in '84 at a private screening on a 16mm reel. There were no subtitles, the sound quality was absolutely atrocious—you could barely make out what the actors were saying—but man, it hit me hard immediately. I couldn't wait to finally catch a proper theatrical release. I distinctly remember telling myself, "This is it—this is real, high-quality sci-fi done the right way." Even today, it remains one of those rare sci-fi films that I truly love as a complete work of art, not just as something to pass the time.

Generally speaking, sci-fi hasn't always found its footing as "high art" in film. It’s usually much better at being pure entertainment. You can find endless amounts of fun sci-fi movies, but finding ones that actually pull at your heartstrings and keep you up at night? That's a different story. Maybe there are five or six such films out there, if I'm being honest.

northerncrane4 said:First off, I noticed you decided to address exactly one out of the four questions I actually asked.

No, it isn't to me. Maybe to you. 🤷

When you mention "human life," you're trivializing things. The society in Blade Runner doesn't just produce humans. If by "human life" you mean "sentient life," then look at HAL 9000—a consciousness whose creators denied it the right to make mistakes (i.e., the right to be human, since to err is human). That is far more philosophical than a simple question of lifespan.

They were all equally abstract to me, so I just went ahead and lumped them all together under one umbrella!

No way, that’s just not true! I'm sorry, I didn't catch that! It looks like you might have sent a partial message. What's on your mind? I'm ready to dive into some deep discussions whenever you are!Maybe for you! 🤷

Trust me, I've been around the block on this one. I’ve seen firsthand—more than a few times, actually—exactly how people react to this kind of stuff. It's wild, really. Have you ever noticed how predictable those reactions can be?

When you throw around terms like "human life," I think you’re actually oversimplifying things. Seriously, the society we see in *Blade Runner* isn't just churning out biological humans. If by "human life" you really mean "sentient life," then we’re looking at something much closer to the situation with HAL 9000. It’s that terrifying concept of a consciousness being denied the basic right to make mistakes—which, let's be honest, is the most human thing about us! It’s way more profound than just some debate about how long a lifespan lasts. Isn't the real philosophical struggle actually about the freedom to be flawed?

I'll be the first to admit it: for me, HAL 9000 and all those glitches he deals with—combined with that incredible visual style—are easily the absolute best parts of *Odyssey*. It’s honestly such a shame that his storyline doesn't take up more screen time!

I first saw it when I was about eight years old, and honestly? Total flop for me. It was just too dark—all that rain, zero sunlight, the whole vibe... yeah. But I was probably way too young back then, because once I caught the director's cut, the movie really clicked, and even now, I love putting it on early in the morning. That documentary part about the making of Dangerous Day is especially solid... but lately, there’s this huge trend of acting like this film is somehow the absolute peak of the genre. It's annoying because people don't even get the basics right—they start attributing ideas to it that were never actually part of the vision. And what really gets under my skin is how everyone treats it like an instant classic, completely ignoring the fact that the movie basically sat in total obscurity for five or six years—give or take—until the home video release finally gave it a life. It’s the exact same thing with Carpenter's The Thing, which most people today insist is one of the greatest horror films ever made.