AIR May 2019

AIR
“Kubrick wanted to use a particular
type of paper to write upon. There’s a
page we found where the director typed
upon it, with a typewriter, ‘This is how
it types’, and a fountain pen annotation
that says ‘This is how it draws ink’. It
shows his character – tirelessly looking
for just the right paper, to ensure the
ink was absorbed in the way he wished.”
Through the filmmaking process,
“Kubrick was ‘hands on’ from start
to finish, even sitting at the editing
desk with just a pencil and an eraser.
Everything had to be ‘just right’, and
his obsession for perfection drove
him to embrace advanced technology
and techniques,” says Groen, of his
method. “His remarkable canon
comes from a time before films were
made digitally – pre-CGI, before
access to technology was easy.”
For instance, to simulate gravity-free
weightlessness in his 2001: A Space
Odyssey, the director had a giant
rotating centrifuge – essentially a
38ft Ferris Wheel – purpose-built by
the Vickers Engineering Group;
astute camera work completed the trick
of the eye. (The Design Museum has
one, as part of the exhibit installation).
Staying with Space, Kubrick famously
purchased a f/0.7 lens (and the custommodified
Mitchell 35mm) from
NASA itself, in order to shoot Barry
Lyndon with an ethereal, candlelit-style
patina true to the story’s 18 th -century
setting. The lenses had been used by
the space agency in the 1960s to take
low-light photos of the dark side of the
Moon, and aided Kubrick’s filming of
actors by the light of flickering flame.
Groen enthuses how the films,
despite belonging to that pre-digital
era, “Are still current and exciting. 2001:
A Space Odyssey in particular
redefined the science fiction genre,
and doesn’t look like it was made
back in the 1960s; his films are
still able to fascinate audiences as
they did when first released.”
He was deeply committed to finding
the right way of doing something, even
if it took years to realise. He possessed
creative vision, but with it incredible
patience; a keen chess player in his
spare time, Kubrick was a strategist.
In the case of A.I: Artificial
Intelligence, says Groen, it was
about a move he chose not to make.
“
If you can get people to the point
where they have to think for a moment
about what it is you’re getting at – and
then discover it – the thrill of discovery
goes right through the heart
”
“Kubrick bought the rights to the
Brian Aldiss’ story in the 1970s, but
held off on its creation as he felt that
there wasn’t sufficient camera and
computer technology to do justice to
his vision for the script,” she explains.
He acquired stories (usually middling
novels, which he made great) and
– be the genre crime, war, thriller,
romance or sci-fi – went to any lengths
to visually unfurl the narrative.
He cultivated patience in his audiences:
the director is synonymous with slowpaced,
protracted (yet enthralling)
scenes. The role of music, for example,
was so important to setting the mood
that he would often extend a scene
to allow the score to finish in full.
Kubrick’s perspective was underpinned
by that insatiable hunger for detail.
Groen cites the prep he put into a
film project that did not even get
made: a proposed biopic on 19 th -
century French emperor and military
commander Napoleon Bonaparte.
“He embarked on this massive
journey to gather all the information
he could find about a leader he
greatly admired,” she says.
“Kubrick compiled his findings
on date cards, with each assigned a
chronological day in Napoleon’s life
accompanied by research about what
happened to him on that day – who
he met, what he’d eaten etc. It was all
handwritten, stored in a filing cabinet;
in a way it’s Kubrick’s paper version of
a Google search, or a Wikipedia page.
It’s fascinating to see the amount of
information and research he acquired”
– before the internet age, no less.
“Nobody could craft a movie better
than Stanley Kubrick,” praised fellow
film great Steven Spielberg (who Kubrick
eventually endorsed to direct the
aforementioned A.I., released in 2001).
“He is an inspiration to us all. Stanley
was a chameleon with the astonishing
ability to reinvent himself with each
new story he told. I defy anyone who
just happens upon a Kubrick film
while channel surfing to try with all
your might to change the station – I
have found this to be impossible.”
Every detail was a step closer to his
endgame: producing a cinematic work of
art the viewer just can’t turn away from.
Of his method, Kubrick imparted,
“If you really want to communicate
something, even if it’s just an emotion
or an attitude, let alone an idea, the
least effective and least enjoyable
way is directly. It only goes in about
an inch. But if you can get people to
the point where they have to think a
moment what it is you’re getting at, and
then discover it, the thrill of discovery
goes right through the heart.”
For its showcase, the Design Museum
has upheld this beguiling spirit. “We’re
dissecting his process, rather than
showing all the material per film,”
explains Groen. “We worked very
closely with the Kubrick archives
[which is housed at University of
the Arts London] and it’s so vast
– with boxes upon boxes of notes
and material – that this exhibition
is based on a relative fraction.”
For the guest, then, these
thoughtfully curated slivers of his
legacy are a thrilling opportunity
to discover the man behind the
movies – whose genius goes right
through the heart of cinema.
Stanley Kubrick: The Exhibition shows
at The Design Museum until 15
September, while the British Film
Institute screens his masterpieces
during its ‘Kubrick season at BFI
Southbank’, throughout May.
designmuseum.org/exhibitions/
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