Behind the Scenes: 2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick, 1968) with Keir Dullea and Gary Lockwood

In 1964, after the success of his dark nuclear comedy, Dr. Strangelove, Stanley Kubrick began a major motion picture. It was to be a film about abstract scientific ideas, the origin and the future of the human species, life in the cosmos, the evolution of our machines and artificial intelligence. Even to this day, Kubrick's 2001 A Space Odyssey remains the all-time great science fiction film. Its groundbreaking photographic techniques still influence modern special effects. But as our films get ever more spectacular, 2001 reminds us that it's the ideas behind the spectacle that are still the most important special effect of all. Stanley wanted to create a myth, and I think he succeeded. A myth should contain all sorts of levels and different people should have different interpretations. And that, of course, is exactly what's happened. I mean, there's a whole literature about the meaning of 2001. He wanted to make the proverbial good science fiction movie, implying there hadn't been any good ones before then. I didn't agree with him. There had been some good ones. Fantastic Voyage was one. And I was rather fond of Things to Come, a version of H.G. Wells' book. And I got Stanley to see it, and he thought it was absolutely terrible. And of course, it was very naive. If it was science fiction to imagine a rocket being fired at the moon, the scientific facts of the early 1960s seemed even more unbelievable. America's first real rockets were blowing up on their launch pads, and the Soviet Union was dominating space. 90 minutes. How far ahead were they in the nuclear race? America was galvanized into action. President Kennedy commanded NASA with the promise of almost unlimited funds to achieve what seemed then an impossible task. Against this highly political backdrop, Kubrick and Clark set out, in their movie 2001, to predict the future of space exploration. His close connections with NASA gave Clark privileged access to the design and construction of real space hardware. I was holed up in the Hotel Chelsea most of the time during the early stages. I went through my short stories and dug out six which seemed appropriate to our ideas, and I sold them all to Stanley. And one by one, he threw them away, and I bought them back, and they're still available. And Stanley decided that the best way to produce the film was to write a novel, or at least the outline of a novel, first. We finally settled on one short story originally called The Sentinel, which is about the discovery of an artifact on the moon which had been left there millions of years ago by some other civilization, and which I suggest was a kind of burglar alarm to trigger the news that we had escaped from our planetary cradle and were about to invade the universe. His scouts reported back from the New York World's Fair that a short animated film from Canada employing stunning special effects might provide valuable inspiration. Two young American animators exhibiting their own work at the fair were also injured. Stanley, I'm not sure how he saw it, but he called us up because he had seen it and was interested in getting work done on a film he was going to make with Arthur Clark. I called Kahn. I said, what's with this Kubrick guy? Could I get a job on that movie or something? And he said, well, I'm under a confidentiality agreement and I really can't do this. And then I called another friend of mine. He said, well, you know, Stanley's phone number is actually penciled on the corner of the bulletin board in the office. And if you found that, you could call him yourself. So I did that. I had a phone call to say, would I be available to meet Mr. Kubrick? And so I went along to MGM to find Mr. Kubrick. And I was told he was around and I had to look for him because he was always wandering around everywhere. So I walked onto the stage and there was a painter on the stage. And I went up to him and I said, I'm looking for Stanley Kubrick. You haven't seen him around, have you? And he said, I am Stanley Kubrick. This man dressed in a sort disheveled blue suit and trousers, eating a sausage, half eaten sausage was Stanley Kubrick and not a painter. He was incredibly cordial and friendly and helped me buy the airfare. And my wife and I moved to England, virtually lock, stock and barrel, intending to be there nine months, ended up being there almost three years. They had beautiful models of their concepts for the weightlessness effects and the upside down sets and rotating sets. And I was just blown away. I just thought this is some kind of nirvana. Stanley, working with Arthur Clarke, wanted me to be the overall scientific advisor. Every element of the film scientifically, technologically looked at today would have been my responsibility. He wanted us to make certain that every detail was legitimate. He didn't know at the time where he was going to put his camera. So the geophysical instrumentation, the astronomical module, the chemical analysis module, the communications module, the hibernation module, all of these modules on the Discovery spaceship had to be exact and had to be realistic and had to be really approved by the best scientific knowledge that we had at the time. We had to make a pen float in space close by William Sylvester, who was lying asleep in our seat. So we devised a rig, which was a large circular sheet of glass surrounded by steel and bearings so that we could rotate the sheet of glass. And then we had some double-sided tape, newly invented. And we put the pen with the double-sided tape on the glass. And then we moved, rotated the glass so it floated in space. The pen would float out of his pocket and gradually make its way to the other end of the studio and have to be rescued from space, just to make people realise the problems of being in space. The stewardess then was walking down the corridor between the seats and she came up and grabbed hold of the pen and walked off. She had to use stiction, you know, to get rid of the stiction of the double-sided so you can actually see her pull it off the glass, if you look carefully. I think probably if she'd twisted it slightly it may have worked better, but it worked. Every morning before we started filming, three space hostesses had to meet in Stanley Kubrick's caravan and we would sit there solemnly and by this time we were dressed in our white trouser suits and with a plastic bag over the top because he was terrified of us getting dusty. And the first assistant would say to us, Mr. Kubrick would like your thoughts for the day, so come out with anything, like, I now see immortality as the fate of us all. And the first assistant would relay that to Stanley Kubrick and he'd sit and think for a little while then he'd say, good, we can go with that, let's start work. I wasn't on his wavelength, it's as simple as that, and he would say, he got to the point on day four when he would say good morning and I would really wonder what he really meant. He always communicated indirectly and if you were sort of working in a scene, he wouldn't communicate with you, he would communicate with the first assistant and say, please could you go and ask Heather to do so-and-so or could you ask Heather what she thinks about that? And then if you said it directly to him, he would pretend he couldn't hear. You don't mind the 37 takes, you don't mind the location standing in the mud or, I mean, you think of those kids on Titanic, I mean, look at those, what they had to do on take 15. You know, we'll do anything once we know where we're going. And so he'd say to the first assistant, what did she say? So you'd have to go say, would you please tell Mr. Kubrick I say so-and-so? And so then the first assistant would say, Heather says so-and-so. He'd say, fine, well, could you tell her that this is the answer to that? And so we went on all day long. But the extent to which he ground the sausage was, I thought, a little excessive. The basic theme of the movie is evolution. And we were quite conscious of that, you know, from ape to man and what lies beyond man. 2001 wasn't just about our future. Its opening scenes were set millions of years in the past at a time when our primitive ape ancestors were struggling for survival. The portrayal of these creatures and their response to an alien intelligence required skilled mime actors and dancers to study real apes, preparing, almost literally, to don their skin. Dan Richter, who played Moon Watcher, the first ape who learns to hunt and to kill, returns to the London Zoo after 30 years for an unexpected meeting with an old friend and collaborator on the film. I was a mime, and I was asked to come out to talk to Stanley. My whole mime training comes from the American Mime Theater, where mime is an extension of the process. All movement begins with the acting process, with characters, etc. So I came out to meet Stanley, and he said, you talk pretty good talk, but you've never done, you know, don't know anything you've ever done. So I said, well, I'll show you if you have a half an hour of Black Leotard, three towels. And I went and I showed him what I could do, and he hired me on the spot. And then it began a process. But what I was looking for always was people I could get to act a little bit, because I understood that the movement wasn't the solution. The solution was to motivate the movement. Stanley had given me a small Bollier camera, an eight millimeter camera. And so I would come to the zoo alone every day to sort of ponder, and Guy became a friend of mine. And I would sit in front of his cage and talk to him about it and whatnot. I built the choreography from different animals, different parts of the body at different speeds. We would all do a ballet class. Then Dan would set us these mind exercises, stretch exercises, and all the interacting. And then it went from there. And as he said earlier, we then were brought up to the zoo to watch things, to study the ape, and then to get our own interpretation of it. I needed to understand who these man apes were. It's like the seven dwarves sleeping, you know, they have to be clear characters. I could do that with Moonwatcher, that wasn't a problem. But I was very aware that the other apes had to be, you had to know who they were. This was a sort of a nervous guy, but it was very big, but he was nervous all the time. And sometimes he got upset. And, you know, so that would be a character, you know, or a guy that it was always watching out, because people always just treated him badly. And, you know, so Stanley and I were very aware of that. We created very specific characters. The monolith was essentially a teaching machine. In fact, our original idea was to have something with a transparent screen on which images would appear, which would, you know, teach the apes, you know, what we're, you know, how to fight each other, how to maybe even make fire. But that was much too naive an idea. So eventually we sort of bypassed it and just a device which we didn't explain, but it affected their minds directly, you know, when they touched it and things happened to their brains and they were transformed. The monolith was a kind of a teaching machine that these early apes would put their hands up against the monolith and somehow mysteriously understand that they had an option other than strictly vegetarian diet that they could kill. I'm supposed to be moving along, you know, just going after roots and whatnot. And suddenly an idea comes to me to pick up a bone. I decided I was going to play it slow. And the only decision I made is that I would cock my head slightly. So I did that with just a little head move, very small. Man's history is but a moment, that from the first second that the first weapon is found, the weapon that is the tool, that is the work of art. All these things were forced forward by male testosterone and by a kind of homicidal impulse to create and to kill. Stanley was walking back to the studio and he had a broomstick and he was throwing this broomstick up in the air. And I was quite worried that it might come down on him. And I think that was when he got the idea of this transition, which of course is what happened. The bone goes up and turns into what is supposed to be an orbiting space bomb, a weapon in space, although that isn't made clear. We just assume it's some kind of space vehicle and there's a three millennia jump cut. Then that first moment where we see the space station beautifully outlined against the inky blackness of infinite space, you hear the music of the Blue Danube and you recreate in your mind everything most beautiful, everything most elegant, everything most precious about the entire history of art and manners, courtliness, ritual, everything is rehearsed in that in your mind. Music played a big part in the editing process because, of course, the visual effect sequence is no dialogue. How do you judge the pacing of the scene? How do you judge how long the visual effect should necessarily be? We embellished all the models with little tiny bits of plastic molding because of the detail. It's the detail in the molding that made the models, apart from the shapes, made the models look realistic. One of the very first things we found out when we started shooting stars on the animation stand is that when you move stars too fast, and because of the double-bladed shutter in a projector, it's a real bit complicated, but when you go to a movie you're seeing each frame of film is projected twice. Every star to be perfect, every background to be correct, every foreground to be lit right. He wanted it to look realistic, although we had no idea what earth things would look like in outer space. We have the blob department with all these boys and girls in there breathing heavy industrial solvents of one form or another, painting all these things out frame by frame. Where Stanley would be sitting at a moviola here, I would be here doing the bench work, as it were, feeding him the film. He would be looking at it, selecting, marking, being run through a moviola, pencil marks back to me to cut, paste on with a joiner, or join with a joiner, build it up through the spools, very much the way that you see this equipment now. And there was a tremendous romance attached to it, obviously, which can never be supplied by a computer. I think Stanley was trying to get away from all the grade B science fiction movies that had been done, where they had sort of stock scientists, a lot of them with goatees, at least the senior scientists, and he said, I don't want you to come across like them. Good evening, Dave. How you doing, Hal? Everything's running smoothly, and you? The 9000 series is the most reliable computer ever made. No 9000 computer has ever made a mistake or distorted information. We are all, by any practical definition of the words, foolproof and incapable of error. I suppose Hal is the most memorable character in the movie, and he developed through a whole series of stages. Originally, we might have had a mobile robot, you know, the old clanking monster, but that's old hat. And at what stage we switch to Sir Red Eye and Douglas Raine's voice, I really don't know. And I've been trying for years to stamp out the legend of the word that is Hal, derived from IBM by one letter displacement. And of course, Hal actually stands for heuristic algorithmic, H-A-L. But that's a myth that I can't stamp out. In fact, I think that IBM, they're quite proud of it. So I've given up the attempt. The fact that Hal is every bit as much a main character, in fact, in some people's view, probably the main character for many people, which is fine. And I think, well, in a funny way, I think Stanley was also making comment that at times, the people, certainly the astronauts, become, in a sense, more machine-like or as machine-like as the machines. And I think that's another reason that he had us under play as much as we did. Can you hold it a bit closer? Sure. That's Dr. Hunter, isn't it? There's something truly wonderful about this film that makes it virtually unique amongst all films. And in its portrayal of Hal, this very complex, very robust artificial entity, we have both something that's really quite true to form and doesn't make scientists cringe, even 30 years later. The intimacy that we see the space travelers in with the machinery, their sense of relaxation, they're almost like princes at home in their castle. And the exterior of the Ferris wheel was all just girders and lights and nothing much to look at. But it could separate like this so they could shoot angles from different directions. Or when it was together, there was a gap between the two halves just wide enough that they could have something come up that they could put the camera on. So we could, on occasion, there were certain shots when we would lean forward and turn our own camera on because there was no place for a cameraman and then step back. I think 2001 still holds up because it's so fully imagined a world because it's really, in a way, kind of not about anything. You can come into it at any point you want and leave at any point you want. It's just a shame now that you can't do what you used to be able to do in movie theaters, which is just pay your admission and come in at any point and sit through the picture again and again, because that's what 2001 is about. People go and sit through it three or four times. And part of that was just sort of waiting for your favorite part to come up again. It's in a way like a musical that's all showstopper numbers. There was a conventional way to do it. Forget that and think of something else. Go 180 degrees in the opposite direction and think of something new, different, in absolutely every category of work. And it made me open up to the whole idea of what is film. As people get to understand the complexity of the organic brain, we realize how much more complex it is than silicon-based chips. But that technology is converging. We may have organic computing in the next century, certainly the next millennium. And so there is a convergence in there someplace. It's often said that computers can only do what we tell them to do. But that is no longer true. They can be so complicated that they do develop personalities and do things we don't expect. In fact, anyone who's had a laptop knows perfectly well that computers can have a personality. Good evening, Roy. Hello, Paul. Tell me, Stanley Kubrick in 2001 used a video phone. Did he get it right then? And what's happened to that technology since? Well, I think he really did get it right. But he was showing people, uh, were family. And he did show that in visual cases, you can really get a feeling. At Bell Labs, we started fooling with picture phone technology in the 1940s, because it was basically believed that the obvious extension of voice telephony was video telephony. And we demonstrated the picture phone at the 1964 World's Fair in New York City. And it was pretty much a very big success. People enjoyed seeing each other, but we never were able to commercialize it. And I think it captured the imagination of the public. And it certainly probably captured the imagination of Mr. Kubrick and people who reported to him. In the late 1950s, we began experimenting with giving a machine a voice, synthetic speech capability. And one of the easiest ways to give a machine a voice is to let it sing, because it basically emphasizes the vowels. And that's what we do a very good job with synthetic speech. So we had produced a synthetics machine singing Daisy Daisy. The idea of Daisy Daisy originates from a friend of mine, Dr. John Pierce, who was at the Bell Telephone Labs, and experimenting with speech synthesis. And this must be perhaps 30 years ago, but one of the first computer songs sung very mechanically by a computer was Daisy Daisy. And I don't know where the recording is, but it should be interesting to dig that out. They basically assembled what-if scenarios on technology, and it certainly captivated the team that Mr. Kubrick sent, and it got used in the movie. Hal developed one characteristic by adaptation, and that is the desire for self-preservation. And by taking on that human-like characteristic, he saw or centers the things in anything that happened. And that's basically led him along the wrong path. I know I've never completely freed myself of the suspicion that there are some extremely odd things about this mission. One of the most interesting and humorous aspects of the film is that as Hal the computer gains his identity, he seems to become neurotic. This was hilarious to us, I remember, in the late 1960s, the fact that Hal has complexes where his human guardians do not. You don't mind talking about it, do you, Dave? No, not at all. Well, certainly no one could have been unaware of the very strange stories floating around before we left. Hal, if you recall, at the beginning, told the world that he and his brethren were foolproof, that they had never made a mistake. But interestingly, when you look at Hal's ability to plan when things get dicey in the film, he makes any number of what we would consider mistakes. Just a moment. Just a moment. I've just picked up a fault in the AE-35 unit. It's going to go 100% failure within 72 hours. Clearly, Hal was facing something like a moral dilemma in trying to decide himself what to do in face of the priorities of the mission and his perceived expected actions on the part of the humans. After all, he apparently read their lips and determined that they were likely to try to disconnect him. So there was a certain self-defense nature to his actions. The one episode in the film which I thought improbable, and this was Stanley's idea, not mine, was Hal lip-reading. Well, now they are training computers to lip-read. So Stanley was right and I was wrong. My own Darwinian view of the eternal combat amongst species and individuals is illustrated in the film when the computer itself begins to war with its makers or its custodians, and then seems to almost want to consume these vulnerable human beings as its own food, brain food. Then that extraordinary pathetic moment when the astronaut's umbilical has been severed and he sails off into space so helpless, like a marionette. You would think that once Hal decides on a plan to kill the humans and therefore protect himself and the mission, there would be, for example, a very simple way to do that, which would be venting all the oxygen from the discovery out into space and therefore killing every living thing on the ship. He doesn't do that. Instead, he chooses to take the opportunity when one of the astronauts, Frank, is out doing a repair mission to take control of the pod. Now he might have been at that point planning ahead in some way realizing that Dave, the remaining conscious astronaut on the ship, would go out and try to rescue Frank and therefore Hal could leave him stranded and take care of him that way. But obviously he doesn't anticipate the reentry method that Dave ultimately chooses, which is to blow himself into the airlock without a helmet on. I've always been interested in what happens if you go out into space without a spacesuit. It's a myth that you'll explode. All that happens if you're exposed to space is that, you know, you feel a sort of freezing sensation, even at body temperature, and of course you'll die in about a minute or so because you can't get any oxygen. One of the technical errors in the film, and I wasn't there when it happened, was that Bowman apparently holds his breath when he's exposed to vacuum. That's the worst possible thing. You should exhale, if anything. Maybe you should take a deep breath first and then breathe out. The set for that emergency airlock was a tall set, tall narrow set, and the camera was on the floor looking up. I had a harness and one piano wire which looped up through that artificial door, and I had no helmet. I mean, it was just my head. I didn't want to do a lot of takes of this. I think I only did two, and I think on the second I was actually, as I was hurtling down, able to grab that handle which was supposed to close the hatch so that oxygen could then fill the chamber. I had a relationship with Hal, which is established early on. He admires my drawings, and he is a definite persona. It was a challenging scene to try to make Hal feel at ease about dying. More accurately, about being murdered. Now alone on the spaceship with a psychotic computer, the surviving astronaut, just like his ancient ancestors, must kill to survive. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill, and think things over. One of my favorite scenes in the film is where Dave methodically, ruthlessly disassembles Hal, oblivious to his pleadings. I know I've made some very poor decisions recently. The scene is filmed almost as if it's a kind of, by a psychopath, and yet what we're seeing in the kind of business-like one, two, three behavior of Dave there, I think just the most amazing kind of representation of men's methodical brain. I'm afraid, Dave. Without emotion, without pity, doing what needs to be done right at the edge of extinction, where one more minute and you will be dead. The most emotional scene is, for me as an actor, and therefore was, I won't say more demanding, but it's the kind of IP that's fun because you have a chance to show a little something emotionally, was when I'm literally taking him apart and he ends up singing Daisy, Daisy. Does Hal have the emotions that he appears to display? Could an artificial entity ever get those emotions? Could an artificial entity have a sense of responsibility? Could it care about humans? We don't know the answers to those questions. I and my colleagues love to speculate on such things, but there are no proofs. There's no deep understanding of whether a machine ever could have these things. The great thing about the film is that it's realistic enough to invite these questions in a very substantive, realistic way. I think most science fiction films really don't take us to that level of thought. That was, I think, one of the great accomplishments that Kubrick had with this film. There's a general feeling that we'll have intelligent computers in 20 or 30 years, you know, as intelligent as human beings. Then the question arises, will they develop emotions? And the people are working on that. And perhaps the final question is, will the computer become conscious? You know, I think, therefore I am, I think. There was an aspect to the true purpose of the mission, which was only revealed to the astronaut after Hal was taken apart. That seemed to trigger that recording where my character then learns the truth. Now that you are in Jupiter's space and the entire crew is revived, it can be told to you, 18 months ago, the first evidence of intelligent life off the earth was discovered. Stanley was specifically interested in the possibility of life in outer space and what would happen if we encountered it or it encountered us. That was the basic theme he was interested in. And of course, that introduces all sorts of problems. Quickly, do you show what they look like? You know, all aliens in any space film, they're from central casting, obviously. Real aliens won't look anything like human beings. So what to do? Well, we avoided that completely by never showing them. You almost have to violate the laws of physics to get anywhere. The cosmic distances, if you believe in Einstein, if you believe in the speed of light as an upper limit, are really very great. So you need the idea of black holes or going into the kind of chasm that was in 2001 to make plausible, I think, the idea of widespread contact between civilizations. Toward the end of the production, we started working on aliens and actual one-on-one encounters with aliens. Stanley's wife, Christiana, was working on sculpting aliens, painting aliens. I was working on slit-scan versions of aliens, you know, kind of light beings. We talked about different life forms, but we didn't spend a lot of time at it. What we were most interested in was not how something works, what its metabolism was, whether it needed oxygen or liquid water. That's for literature to deal with. In the movie, we had to find something that was instantly utilitarian as an image, without worrying about what keeps it alive. You have to recognize that it is a living thing, but it isn't something we know. Where this led us, ultimately, was to the realization that, I think as Stanley once put it, you can't really show the face of God. I think there is alien intelligences. There are alien intelligences in the universe. I think it's arrogant to think that we're unique in the whole sweep of the cosmos. Life is a pretty common phenomenon, it turns out. So the idea that the only place that life evolved into some form of intelligence is on one planet, I think is arrogant in the utmost. An idea that Stanley was pursuing, that ultimately, when Cure arrived in that room, which was a construct of his imagination, it was based on the Dorchester Hotel that maybe an astronaut or Keir Dullea had stayed in as a character in his lifetime and could remember, that there would be some kind of an encounter. Aliens would appear, they would manifest in some way, but we never got to it. We simply ran out of time and money, but Stanley was very eager to pursue it. I know that we talked about this strange room perhaps would represent the alien presence making this primitive entity, man, feel a little more comfortable while it was going through its changes, just as if we would take an animal in a zoo and put a piece of branch in to make it feel it's a little bit in its normal habitat. Or if it's the polar bear cage, we build some artificial caves, we make a pool to make the polar bear feel a little more at home. Well, that the alien presence had the capacity to go inside a human brain and play the brain as a tape recorder, as it were, and approximate the environment while it was going through this strange metamorphosis. It was one of the last days of shooting for me on the film and we were all very relaxed and Stanley was very open to any ideas. One of the discussions we had was how we would go from each stage of aging to the next, and I think I may have contributed the idea of specifically never returning to the younger age, but that he would suddenly cut to whatever it was the younger version saw, and you'd cut to the older version looking back at the first version, but the first version wasn't there anymore. No puff of smoke, no dissolve, just wasn't there. And I think I contributed the idea of the glass as being one of the ways to go from the character sitting at the table eating to the next jump in age. I don't remember Stanley defining it right down, but then that's kind of the magic of this film is that nothing is tied up neatly and it's part of what isn't said and explained, it's part of mystery. And maybe Stanley didn't 100% know for sure himself. We developed ideas together, we didn't know exactly what the ending would be until very very late in the game, and at one time indeed we thought the discovery of this artifact on the moon would be the end of the movie, not the beginning, so that shows you know how much our ideas changed during the development. I think he would have liked another year or so shooting on it quite frankly, but the money just ran out. He wouldn't let anybody on the set, nobody was from MGM was allowed on the set. Stanley just, he was so independent by that time, if they wanted Stanley Kubrick to do a film he did it his way. He knew how to manipulate people and again because he was accredited as a genius filmmaker whose movies made money, he was allowed a certain kind of latitude. I mean he was never going to do a picture that was going to so alienate audiences that nobody would go. When 2001 was released it didn't play well at all. There was a big problem of relatively empty theaters. The reviews were very mixed if not bad. About 30 days into the run the studio was really getting ready to pull the movie and throw it away and just abandon the whole thing and say well nice try but let's move on. The story I heard was that some theater owners, operators called into MGM and said before you pull this movie there's something happening here. There's a bunch of young people, they're sitting down in the front row and there were three of them yesterday. There's six of them this morning. I know there's going to be a lot more tonight and it kept building. There's a kind of a whole other wave of interest in the kind of psychedelic movement and people you know smoking a little pot before the screening and a whole new audience started showing up in that month. What is the ending? Why did Stanley design it the way he did? Is there an ending? That's the other thing. Is it a precursor to another film? Is it really the ending? The star child? Is the star child the beginning of the of the next evolution? Yes is the answer. Yes, yes, yes and yes is the answer to all those theories. I miss Stanley a lot. It never occurred to me that Stanley would die. That I'd have to be on this planet without Stanley and particularly that we'd have to be in the year of 2001 without Stanley to enjoy the fruits of having made that movie.