To question whether or not the average spectator would naturally associate Jonathan’s Glazer’s enigmatic new film Under the Skin (2014) with the work of Stanley Kubrick, is a question we presumably cannot answer. The reason we cannot answer such a question is because the film’s trailer announced such a comparison long before it let its audience come to its own conclusion on the subject. For many Kubrick aficionados, myself included, this promise of the Kubrickian and the allure of an heir to his cinematic throne, was a promise that many thought Under the Skin couldn’t deliver on. The fact of the matter is, it is certainly the best attempt of recent years to occupy the space Kubrick left behind.

Whilst I personally would not go as far as to say that ‘we may finally have an heir to Kubrick,’ the comparison to the late director which prefaced my own reception of Glazer’s film, has taken residence at the back of my mind since viewing Under the Skin. How exactly does Under the Skin continue the legacy of Kubrick? What film(s) of Kubrick can be seen as influencing Glazer’s film? Is it simply a matter of cinematic style, or something more emblematic of Kubrick’s vision of the world which Glazer evokes?

Initially, it is clear that Under the Skin shares some similar visual characteristics with films like Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). One would be forgiven for confusing elements of Glazer’s opening (the formation of the alien’s eye) with images seen in Kubrick’s famous star-gate sequence. Equally, the careful consideration given to symmetrical framing, and often abstract imagery marks a clear lineage between Glazer’s and Kubrick’s visual style.

But to draw an end to the comparison between Kubrick and Glazer here, would be an insult to the contemporary director, accusing him of being little more than a thief of Kubrick’s visual poetry. Whilst, visually similar, the most significant connection between Kubrick and Glazer is to be found in how they construct narrative, opting not for a predictable path in which the audience’s collective hands are held firmly in order to guide them through their directors’ respective worlds: but to effectively trust the spectator and their ability to interpret the events as depicted on screen. With Glazer, as it is with Kubrick: there are no definite answers, no clear explanations or convenient exposition.

We follow Scarlett Johansson’s character throughout the duration of the film, yet only acquire a basic understanding of her motivations and desires, but this in effect, is all we really need. It is a testament to Johansson’s acting here that we can learn so much from the subtlety of her performance. Glazer, like Kubrick (and with particular reference to 2001 but also The Shining) constructs not just a film, but an experience that transforms the spectator. Would Under the Skin reach anywhere near the heights it does achieve if Johansson’s practically silent character were given extended monologues or voice-over narration detailing her gradual development of empathy towards the inhabitants of a world she has come to harvest?

Kubrick too, understood the power of an enigmatic mode of narration,  thankfully deciding to omit a detailed expository voice-over from 2001 which would have robbed the film of its poetry and spectacle, if every detail of that spectacle was mapped out. Both Kubrick and Glazer understand that more often than not, less is more.

Anyone who has seen Under the Skin can, I am certain, readily attest to the film as an experience like no other in recent years (with the clear exception of Ben Wheatley’s mesmerising A Field in England). If 2001 provided the ‘ultimate trip,’ a tagline imposed on the film after it found an audience in the drug-fuelled counter-culture of the late 1960s, Under the Skin is surely akin to such an experience, but an experience which leaves one feeling far more disturbed and unsettled than Kubrick’s work. Whilst such comparisons to Kubrick may be criticised by some, I for one think Under the Skin marks Glazer as deserving of such claims.