Lost in Translation: What They Really Said...Part II: Stanley Kubrick

Sunday, the 7th of March was the 22nd Anniversary of the death of Stanley Kubrick, a date I remember all too well. I reflected on it on the day because, while waiting for a couple of mysteries to show up at the library, I'm using my COVID wait-in-line time to read one of those books that have always been "waiting for a time to read," that being Alison Castle's rather intimidating "The Stanley Kubrick Archives," (published by Taschen) featuring rundowns of all the films, with technical trivia, behind-the-scenes details, all very generously illustrated—all those scrawled script-notes!—in a phone-book sized format I'd found in a used book store (the original edition is herniatingly large and will probably require me to build some sort of pulpit in order to pore through it, but the volume dedicated solely to 2001 is less daunting, being monolith-shaped, but not possessing a monolith's mass—even without it being "full of stars").

And interviews. Lots of interviews...done at the time of each film.

Now, here's the thing with Kubrick interviews—after a point, he had editorial control over them. He could edit, add, amend and scratch what he didn't approve of until the resulting published work had as much in common with reality as The Congressional Record (meaning, close to none).

This may seem like the rumored Kubrickian "control-freak"-ishness, but it's completely understandable, especially considering the journalistic standards and integrity of the entertainment press (meaning—again—close to none). Deadline-writers are perpetually deadline-writers and there are enough predators in the field looking for a "gotcha" moment to make a headline (which also may embellish on the content) that anybody who doesn't insist on some sort of control (or the ability to just walk out) is fairly naive and trusting. The internet is a-glut with stories based on some little snippet of a longer interview without context, explanation or follow-up—because those things generate "hits." Everything else, no matter how helpful in the understanding of that snippet, gets spiked, blue-penciled or "deleted." The entertainment press knows we love our gossip.

One of my favorite interviews with Kubrick is the one Tim Cahill did for Rolling Stone, because it didn't treat Kubrick as a film-making God, bestowing tablets of wisdom from on-high. Kubrick starts by saying he hates interviews because he's always asked "conceptualizing" questions that begin with what would amount to a thesis statement in a Doctoral paper: "The truth is I've always felt trapped and pinned down and harried by those questions." So, it's more chatty, revealing that he likes to watch football games and is fascinated by the storytelling capacity of commercials contained in them—like Michelob commercials. It took the intimidating veil away, making Kubrick more of a meticulous working director, rather than "The Mad Monk of Abbots Mead."

Fortunately, that interview is available in its original taped format...and one sees that the editing went both ways. Cahill does an admirable job of taking snippets and building a narrative, even if those snippets take place in different sections of the conversation, and he's very kind to himself boiling down his meandering questions into concise nuggets. But, the conversation is casual ("It's sounds ridiculous, but I just try to do the best I can..."), not challenging, and Kubrick gets chatty, smoking—using both a lighter and matches—talking about interesting things discovered while making his Full Metal Jacket.

I'm a fan, so I found it fascinating. You might find it tedious. But, it's always interesting to see the actual event rather than the accepted published version.

Especially in these times.

Lost in Translation: What They Really Said, Part 1: Orson Welles/Alfred Hitchcock