ome nine years after the events of 2001 (1968), Dr. Heywood Floyd (Scheider) has been booted from his government space-agency job (due to the failure of the Discovery mission to Jupiter) and is chancellor at a university. But when he is contacted by a representative of the Soviet government—who informs him that the Russians are sending their own ship, the Leonov, to Jupiter and wish to enlist some American help—Floyd is back in the game. After an emotional farewell to his wife and young son, Floyd is heading into space, along with two other Americans: Dr. Walter Curnow (Lithgow), who can restore the mechanical systems of Discovery, and Dr. R. Chandra (Balaban), the man responsible for the creation of the HAL 9000, the computer that earlier went rogue. This scientific mission to the stars is fraught with tension, as the United States and U.S.S.R. are on the brink of war in Central America.
Two days out from Jupiter, Floyd is awoken from hibernation earlier than his fellows to deal with an anomaly—though he meets with a frosty reception from the Russian captain, Tanya Kirbuk (Helen Mirren). Signs of life have been detected on Europa, one of Jupiter's moons. An unmanned probe is dispatched, but it falls silent. It is unclear whether natural or artificial causes are at work in the loss of communications. But the mystery of Europa must be left behind. After a tense aerobraking maneuver around Jupiter, the Leonov approaches the Discovery. Curnow and Chandra are roused out of deep sleep and dispatched to reactivate the dead ship. Soon, HAL is up and running.
Investigation of the monolith in orbit around Jupiter is the next goal. A manned probe is dispatched, then lost. There seems little left to do except to reclaim the Discovery as salvage and depart. But then crises erupt on several fronts. Back on Earth, war between the two superpowers is declared, meaning the astronauts must cease cooperation. At the same time, the monolith disappears and Floyd gets a visit from the ghost of Dave Bowman (Keir Dullea), the vanished victim of the monolith, whom we last saw as the orbiting Space Child in 2001. Bowman informs Floyd that both ships must depart sooner than planned, or perish. Only when yoked together is this possible. The conjoined ships manage to escape, as a swarm of monoliths turns Jupiter into a second sun, to nourish the new life on Europa. A final message to humanity lays down directives for a peaceful future.
Yesterday's future is now impossible
The first thing to do upon viewing this movie is to remind yourself that Peter Hyams is not Stanley Kubrick; the year of its release, 1984, is not 1968; and Clarke does not write space opera. Only then will you be able to enjoy this film for what it is: a realistic, optimistic, old-fashioned, second-contact adventure.
Previously the director of such competent yet unexceptional SF fare as Capricorn One (1978) and Outland (1981), Hyams does a very credible job here of spinning his tale. All the individual scenes are crisp and compact. There are, of course, few real soul-stirring mysteries, as there were in the Kubrick film, since everything is always explained in any of several ways, from clunky voice-overs to dialogue. Earnestness prevails, although occasionally Hyams will strive to capture some of Kubrick's bureaucratic/deracinated inanity, such as during the mundane supper-table conversation between Scheider and his wife, or between Lithgow and Scheider when they discuss hot dogs. But generally, what emotions are to be found here are worn on the shirtsleeve. Sometimes this works. The appearance of Bowman's ghost to his ex-wife and to Scheider is genuinely creepy, although when the ghost telekinetically brushes the hair of Bowman's mother, laughter should erupt. And Balaban's final interaction with HAL evokes a sniffle or two. Moments of suspense—the aerobraking maneuver, Lithgow's traumatic first crossing to the Discovery, the transformation of Jupiter—are also effective.
The acting is far from negligible as well. Scheider does a good job of capturing Floyd's dedication and plain-spoken skepticism. Mirren's Russian accent and hard-nosed demeanor are convincing. Lithgow underplays his sidekick role instead of turning in one of his manic performances. And Balaban comes off believably as a fellow who loves his digital creations more than his fellow humans. As for the film's message—Clarke's repeated warning that mankind is low in the intergalactic pecking order and will survive only if he eliminates his barbaric impulses—well, this is something that bears repeating today as much as it did 20 years ago.
The special effects are quite impressive, even in the light of 20 years of refinement, especially the devouring of Jupiter by a flock of monoliths. There's some inconsistency as to when centrifugal gravity on the two spaceships is in effect and when it's not, but overall the scientific accuracy is high (space is silent!)—something that cannot be said for many SF films. The spaceship interiors and tech, while hardly evoking the sophistication of Star Wars, do seem like a logical extension of current space-shuttle abilities. Of course, the movie has fallen into the category of "yesterday's tomorrows," what with its Communist Russia, Pan Am space station and bypassed politics. And surely the visuals—clothing, furniture, domestic interiors—lack any of the panache of 2001, in the same way that David Shire's score is more pedestrian than Kubrick's use of classical motifs. Yet overall this movie is rather endearing, possessing as it does a large heart and sophisticated, adult themes that overwhelm any awkwardness or lack of inspiration.
