in Film | June 17th, 2026 Leave a Comment

If you had to pick a sin­gle fig­ure to rep­re­sent the con­cept of the film auteur, you could do much worse than Stan­ley Kubrick. That’s not to call him the great­est direc­tor who ever lived, nor even to call his body of work the great­est in cin­e­ma. But no fil­mog­ra­phy more clear­ly bears the stamp of a sin­gle pre­sid­ing intel­li­gence across var­i­ous eras, gen­res, and styles. On one lev­el, Kubrick nev­er made the same movie twice. On anoth­er, each is but a facet of the larg­er project of ren­der­ing on film his ever more aes­thet­i­cal­ly immac­u­late, ever less com­fort­ing world­view, one that encom­pass­es both Dr. Strangelove and The Shin­ing, both Loli­ta and 2001: A Space Odyssey.

For that and oth­er rea­sons, Kubrick­’s fil­mog­ra­phy has long occu­pied a pecu­liar posi­tion in cin­e­ma cul­ture. Despite hav­ing pro­vid­ed gen­er­a­tions of movie­go­ers their intro­duc­tion to the “art house,” it also repays the most seri­ous degrees of engage­ment and scruti­ny. Some­how, as Lewis Bond puts it in the record­ed Twitch stream above, Kubrick has remained both cin­e­ma’s gate­way drug and its “final boss.”

You may know Bond’s name — or more like­ly, rec­og­nize his voice — from the many film-relat­ed video essays of his (under the ban­ners of Chan­nel Criswell, The Cin­e­ma Car­tog­ra­phy, and now The House of Tab­u­la) we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture, includ­ing an exe­ge­sis of Kubrick he made near­ly a decade ago. It says some­thing that even some­one as auteur-obsessed for as long as he’s been can’t resist anoth­er trip to the well.