If all were lost and I found myself red-thonged and rifle-bound as the giant Zardozian head of Stanley Kubrick roiled over the ruined horizon, I would chase it forever till the end of the earth. Kubrick’s films offer a stunning portrait of isolation and spiritual angst few others manage to achieve with such edge and elegance. Grounded in both the pulverant physicality of the little moments while also speaking to our loftiest concepts is a rare achievement, but one Kubrick manages in each of his films beautifully. As a storyteller watching his films, I feel like a dusty, cod-eyed ape triumphantly railing my newfound bone weapon against a backdrop of something far bigger than I could ever conceive... and my heart is warmed greatly by it.
Illustration by Greg Ruth