Where Were You When You Heard Stanley Kubrick Died?
Stanley Kubrick died 12 years ago today at the age of 70, leaving behind arguably the most influential filmmaking legacy of any director in the history of cinema. But let's not spend the remainder of March 7 inventorying merit, skill, technique, mythology and the rest; let's recall our own reactions as movie lovers upon first hearing that horrible news: Kubrick is dead.
It was a late Sunday morning in Sacramento, and I was working. The job required driving -- hours and miles and days of endless driving, broken up at the top of every hour by the slim prospect that maybe something new would be reported on ABC Radio. And was it ever: "Stanley Kubrick," the broadcaster began, no different than she was reading a weather report, "the celebrated filmmaker best known for such movies as 2001: A Space Odyssey, Dr. Strangelove and A Clockwork Orange, died this morning in England. He was 70..."
And then I think I yelped, "What?" Or, "No!" I don't know. It was overly dramatic and unnecessary whatever it was; a long wince probably would have been acceptable. But hey: This was still in the lead-up to Eyes Wide Shut, years in the making, months in the offing and, for all anyone outside Kubrick's uber-private inner circle -- including Warner Bros. heads Terry Semel and Robert Daly -- knew, as-yet-unfinished. I think I was as much disturbed by that awareness as that of Kubrick's death; you kind of had to accept the odds that a 70-year-old man who'd taken 12 years between projects might not produce another feature. I think I called my parents, who weren't especially moved. That'll happen.
Anyway, I miss him as much today as I did in 1999, when I saw Eyes Wide Shut -- and the words "A Film by Stanley Kubrick" flashing onscreen during a new film for the last time. And out of respect for Kubrick or maturity or maybe both, I don't yell at the news anymore.
Your turn...
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Swear to Odin, I was on my way to see Cruel Intentions, I picked up my buddy and he told me that Kubrick had died. We spent the rest of the ride talking about how amazing his films were.
Then we saw Cruel Intentions.
It was a depressing afternoon on many levels that day.
I was at an upscale orgy... No, wait-- I was trapped in a hedge maze... No, I was planning the perfect heist on a race track... No, I was driving a teen-aged girl on a road trip... Wait, let's see, I was learning how to stop worrying and love the bomb... Or, maybe I was disconnecting HAL... I remember! I was strapped into a chair and forced to watch pornography.... Um, actually, I was in boot camp being told I was a maggot... Well, I guess I really don't remember the exact details but I am certain I was in Los Angeles.
Chicago.
"Arguably the most influential filmmaking legacy of any director in the history of cinema?" I think the operative word there is "arguably." I just don't get the Kubrick idolatry. I love "Lolita," but everything he did after "Strangelove" was boring as hell. I'd reserve the most influential filmmaking legacy for D. W. Griffith. Even someone like Hitchcock has had more influence on filmmakers than Kubrick.
That's why it's there! I really don't care either way, but I figured someone would say something because God knows everyone on the Web has to be called wrong sooner or later.
I didn't call you wrong; I was just offering a different opinion. I even said "I just don't get" to demonstrate that the failure is mine.
My point exactly! I'm wrong!