I may be drunk right now, but I'm adequately self-possessed to be baffled by the two dismissive foregoing reviews, even though the absence of typing and spelling skills on the part of both reviewers may say a lot about what's missing in their critiques. Also, I'm approaching my Dantean midpoint--35--and feeling increasingly(not to be self-pityingly hyperbolic) like Evelyn Waugh's Gilbert Pinfold, that beleaugured upholder of civilized values beset on all sides by crazed voices, and alone at sea. The fact is that this film is a masterpiece, moving and immense in its implications. I notice the Roman Catholic Church does not disavow it, which shows real sense and sensitivities to the nuances of its own beliefs. As movie music goes, the score is a marvel and underscores a rare cinematic feat--the presentation, through the sounds and images that Kubrick said reached deeper into the psyche than words, of that uncommon plant, that endangered species, of the spirit of 1 Corinthians 13 (referenced above and quoted in the film), cut down as it always is but subsisting gloriously for a while, and putting us all to shame while it does.