Born in Manhattan in 1928, Stanley Kubrick is recognised as one of the most exciting directors of the twentieth century. In his filmography you’ll find adaptations of novels and a wide variety of genres, covering horror, science fiction, and period drama – and let’s not forget planet sized cosmic foetuses and snazzy dress codes, courtesy of Malcolm McDowell. Kubrick is remembered for his dark humour, unique cinematography, creepy hotel twins, and evocative music scores in films such as Lolita (1962) and A Clockwork Orange (1971), and notably for his experimental camera and editing work in 2001: A Space Odyssey, as well as his fluid Steadicam shots in The Shining (1980).
It is fitting then that, where many other film exhibitions miss the mark, no thanks to uninspiring displays of dusty costumes, mannequins, and sun faded memorabilia, the Stanley Kubrick Exhibition is a true celebration, not only of his rich catalogue, but of his creativity in cinematic design. Appropriately enough, this currently happens to be hosted at the Design Museum, having been on a world tour since 2004, celebrating his talent as a designer and cinematic architect.
“A story is a means of holding interest and steering matters into certain areas of interest”
It’s also appropriate for this to be in London as, if there’s one thing the exhibition makes clear, it’s that London has played a surprisingly crucial role in Kubrick’s career, as much as Jack Nicholson or Douglas Rain (voice of HAL 9000). You need look no further than Eyes Wide Shut (1999), in which London streets were inventively used to recreate 1990s New York City, or Anton Furst’s efforts to help Kubrick transform the Beckton Gas Works in London, England into Huê, Vietnam.
After passing through an entrance adorned with an empowering sensory overload, courtesy of a multi-screened audio-visual display which tunnels towards a central perspective akin to Kubrick’s own camera work, playing homage to iconic scenes from his filmography, the exhibition opens up with a room dedicated to the intense scribbles, letters and scripts directly from the man himself. Least of all, possibly the politest letter of decline ever written from Audrey Hepburn. This room chronicles his journey from the younger Kubrick, earning a few bucks playing chess and taking amateur photographs for Look magazine, to becoming one of the twentieth century’s most prolific directors.
Yet this is only the first of many rooms before diving into the more dedicated areas for your favourite films. If you leave with one thought from this exhibition – which is doubtful, considering how much there is to look at – it’ll be the sheer volume of artefacts accumulated and affectionately displayed, each piece with its own story that plays its part in Kubrick’s hefty catalogue. That and possibly about how much time you just spent in the museum. Taking time to read everything is certainly a daunting task, though if you consider yourself a hardcore Kubrick fan, perhaps you’ll take up the challenge. Good luck if you do.
One display of particular interest to me showed how the Stargate scene from 2001: A Space Odyssey was created, with interview footage featuring Douglas Trumbull, joined by concept sketches for the machine used to shoot it. Remarkably the impression of this scene isn’t diminished, even after seeing behind the scenes exposure, rather it opens up a whole new level of appreciation for Kubrick’s intricate designs.
In this regard, one of the strengths of the exhibition is how it tries to put you inside Kubrick’s creative mind, showing his thought processes alongside the usual archive photographs, thanks to annotated scripts, bewildering shooting schedules (I’d be lost trying to decode them, but they are thankfully colour coded), on-set footage and photography, and correspondence letters. Along with letters and journalistic writings praising his work, there are also more critical pieces mingled in as well, some of which are entertaining to read, though ultimately they serve to elevate Kubrick’s artistic status. Fancy criticising A Clockwork Orange as overtly outrageous for its supposed ‘promotion of violence’, yet praising and admitting to enjoying Rosemary’s Baby… huh.
As fascinating as the documentation and theoretical pieces are, let’s face it, you’re probably wondering: when do we get to the space suits, ‘suggestive’ sculptures, and Milk Bar set pieces? Well you won’t be disappointed! With areas curated around a specific film, if you’re more interested in Dr. Strangelove over Barry Lyndon, it’s easy enough to take a detour to your favourite Cold War themed satire. That being said, even if Barry Lyndon isn’t your favourite, the concept sketches and ornate costume works are worth taking the time to look at. And who knows? Maybe they’ll make a fan out of you yet.
With Lolita and A Clockwork Orange grouped together as the controversy duo, and 2001: A Space Odyssey built up as the exhibits climax, the exhibition layout follows a loosely thematic order rather than chronological, with iconic costumes and props you’re bound to recognise. Some of the highlights include Laurence Olivier’s Prima Porta cuirass from Spartacus, the (not so) subtle phallus sculpture from A Clockwork Orange, and various ship models and HAL panels from Space Odyssey. And don’t forget about the giant floating space foetus above the exit. As creepy as it is during the film’s climactic scene, the model is also somewhat disturbing, constantly maintaining it’s gaze into the distance…
The Full Metal Jacket area strikes a more emotional chord, mixing Don McCullin’s Vietnam war photography, used by Kubrick as reference material, with costumes and posters for the film. Admittedly, this was hard to look through, given the context, but that’s a credit to the emotive nature of the material, the curators, and the sentiment behind the film.
There’s something undoubtedly thrilling about seeing some of the most iconic costumes, props, and set-pieces in cinema under one roof for leisurely viewing. The exhibition has been carefully curated with more pieces than I can count, besides props and costumes, storyboards and scripts. Next to Kubrick’s rather comfy looking director’s chair, you’ll find a straight-up book shelf, filled to the brim with Napoleon books used as research for an unfulfilled epic, while around the rest of the exhibit you’ll find strange curiosities that give an insight into his obsessive, creative mind.
With stories about how he worked his actors to near insanity, you get a strong impression of why. It makes you wonder how much of Jack Torrens’s descent to madness was actually acted by Jack Nicholson: even with the safety of a glass cabinet set between yourself and the scripts, the instructions left on some of them are intimidatingly demanding. You can practically hear Kubrick bellowing directorial commands at you from his chair way back in the first room, near the entrance…
This exhibition is certainly worth checking out for film and media students, and for anyone with a professional or casual interest in film making and photography, be prepared to feel… inadequate. For those who are at best casual Kubrick fans, you’ll still be able to appreciate the artistry that goes into the costume, prop and set designs. With at least half a days worth, if not more, of viewing pleasure, whether that’s reading material, video footage, or costumes, for Kubrick fans, this is surely the ultimate experience.
| Where? Design Museum, 224-238 Kensington High St., Kensington, London, W8 6AG |
| When? April 26th to September 15th, 2019 |
| Closest tube? High Street Kensington (Circle & District Lines) |
