2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

Mind-bending sci-fi masterpiece produced and directed by Stanley Kubrick, with a screenplay written by Kubrick with Arthur C. Clarke. 

The “plot”, what there is of one, concerns the presence of an enigmatic monolith found on Earth in early human times, on the Moon and near Jupiter in the present day – presumably an artefact of extraterrestrial life. And a manned mission to Jupiter becomes increasingly precarious as the onboard computer, HAL (voiced by Douglas Rain), increasingly takes control of life-and-death decisions involving Bowman (Keir Dullea) and the rest of the crew. 

The film becomes increasingly abstract as it progresses. It’s impossible to say how it ends or “what happens”. It insists on you interpreting what you see.

Visually, it’s ridiculously ahead of its time. It still looks stunning now. Musically, it’s also awe-inspiring, with the classic “Also Sprach Zarathustra” being the perfect choice to express the epic, visionary quality of the film. The same goes for every piece of music chosen. It couldn’t be better matched to the visuals and the narrative. 

I also love the audacious slowness of 2001. Unlike so many films made now, it has the complete confidence and assurance to unfold at a glacial pace – often very quietly. And yet it’s never less than captivating. Let’s hope no one is ever silly enough to remake it.

Barry Lyndon (1975)

Written and directed by Stanley Kubrick, this historical drama is a masterclass in how to make a great film. Everything about it is superb. 

Consisting of the varied and rambling adventures of the title character (portrayed by Ryan O’Neal), the story details the exploits of an 18th-century Anglo-Irish loner. He has to leave home following a duel with British Army captain John Quin (Leonard Rossiter), is robbed by highwaymen and then ends up in the British army – until he deserts and sets off on a whole sequence of other adventures.

There’s a quirky tone, enhanced by the narration of Michael Hordern. The film has an unusually sophisticated deadpan wit and intelligence. It's visually stunning, too. Kubrick treats you to a sequence of brilliantly composed shots. It’s like a rare liqueur – a luxurious treat. 

A masterpiece.

The Shining (1980)

Stanley Kubrick's terrifying, mesmerising classic both adapts and adds to the Stephen King horror novel.

Jack Torrence (Jack Nicholson) and his wife Wendy (Shelley Duvall) spend the winter snowed in at the remote Overlook Hotel in Colorado. Their son, Danny (Danny Lloyd), has a special gift of telepathy – also known as shining. As isolation takes hold, Jack suffers a mental decline that is only accelerated by supernatural events.

Nicholson is superb in the lead role – both funny and convincingly insane.

The music is incredible. It's hugely atmospheric. The "tricycle" scenes around the lonely corridors are hypnotic. The psychological domestic drama is perfectly blended with a supernatural thriller. It's surreal and impressionistic, but with a strong narrative pull.

The Killing (1956)

Directed by Stanley Kubrick, this is a brilliantly tense crime thriller. An elaborate racetrack robbery has been planned by ex-con Johnny Clay (Sterling Hayden). Each of his team has a part to play before they can split the $2 million they aim to steal. But it all goes off the rails when one of the gang (Elisha Cook Jr.) tells his wife (Marie Windsor) about the plan and she tries to double-cross him by bringing her lover into the arrangement.

Although he’s a crook, Johnny seems so reasonable and easy to like that you find yourself rooting for him and hoping that he can escape with the money and his beloved Fay (Coleen Gray).

I really liked the narration by Art Gilmore, which describes events in parallel and employs clever time shifts. You find out what was happening concurrently and sometimes what happened just before the scene you are witnessing. The film is brilliantly shot, too, with elaborate use of shadows and light to create atmosphere.

Spartacus (1960)

I had never seen this Stanley Kubrick classic, so was curious. It deserves all the hype, pretty much. Kirk Douglas is shiny and reasonably charismatic in the lead role. Jean Simmons is appealing as his delicate love interest, often shown in soft focus. The smouldering scenes in which the pair fall in love at the gladiator training centre are remarkable because almost no words are exchanged between them. Tony Curtis, Charles Laughton, Laurence Olivier and Peter Ustinov make up what is the very definition of an all-star cast. They are all on excellent form, but Curtis seems weirdly underused despite being built up as important because he’s different to the others.

At over three hours – and with amazing crowd scenes with hundreds of extras amassing for battle on huge landscapes – it’s epic in every sense.

Like many classics, it’s odder than you might expect. The lighting is all over the place, with some strangely illuminated interior scenes jarringly placed amid the exterior locations. There are also some peculiar scenes showing “ordinary life” within the slave camp. The senate is surprisingly small and low-key for a film that specialises in grand gestures. But it works because it keeps the themes of idealism (the idea of Rome) and political corruption (greed for power) on a scale you can relate to.

There’s a fascinating scene in which bisexuality is alluded to. Crassus says to Antoninus: “It is all a matter of taste, isn't it? And taste is not the same as appetite, and therefore not a question of morals. My taste includes both snails and oysters.” Strong stuff for a “PG”, as are the gory moments and the points at which Jean Simmons tastefully de-robes.

Tackling big issues of freedom, democracy and class, it’s a rich film. There’s a moving finale that manages to offer both a happy and a sad ending.

Full Metal Jacket (1987)

Stanley Kubrick’s film about marines in the Vietnam War is very uneven. The first section, detailing the marines’ training with their drill instructor, is compelling and blackly funny. R. Lee Ermey is fantastic as the terrifyingly tough sergeant and it’s worth watching if only for the call-and-response marching songs.

The second part of the film is less involving, despite being set in the war itself. This is mainly because we haven’t been introduced to most of the characters and therefore don’t especially care about them. The battle sequences are brutal and extremely well-filmed.

Matthew Modine is fine in the lead role as Private J.T. “Joker” Davis, from whose point of view the film is presented, but in terms of narrative arc and characters you can empathise with there’s still something missing.

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)

Cold War black comedy.

Apparently losing his mind, a US Air Force general (Sterling Hayden) orders a nuclear attack on the Soviets. This, we learn, will trigger a “doomsday machine” response so vast that will render Earth uninhabitable. With the clock ticking to call off the strike, we follow the story in three related threads – the struggle to retract the order from within the air base where the general is stationed, the progress of the B-52 plane that’s on the way to drop its bombs, and the discussions in the war room where the US president considers the options. 

Stanley Kubrick directs, and there’s a beauty to some of the black and white shots. Unfortunately, the film is constructed around Peter Sellers, who – for no apparent reason – plays three different roles. If you don’t find him hilarious (I don’t), you’re in trouble. Some of the satire hits the spot (a British RAF exchange officer not being able to call the president and avoid Armageddon because he doesn’t have sufficient spare change in his pocket), but a lot of it falls flat. It taps into a potentially rich seam of material regarding the futility of war and mutually assured destruction, but it’s too uneven and simply not funny enough to make those points in a satisfactory manner.