Only 3 Sci-Fi Movies Are Better Than ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’
In the pantheon of great science fiction movies, one reigns supreme above all: 2001: A Space Odyssey. Directed by the master himself, Stanley Kubrick, and inspired by several short stories from Arthur C. Clarke, the film is a cosmic journey that chronicles the rise of humanity and the influence of a series of mysterious monoliths. Specifically, it centers on the voyage of several astronauts, who, along with the supercomputer HAL 9000, voyage to Jupiter to investigate one of the monoliths.
2001: A Space Odyssey changed everything for sci-fi. It redefined the genre, moving away from the campy efforts of the ’40s and ’50s and into the more introspective and philosophical territory that would define it for the next two decades. Indeed, 2001 is often considered the pinnacle of sci-fi, and it might be true. Yet, I can’t help but feel like at least three movies are better in their exploration of humanity’s place in the cosmic scale, all three succeeding Kubrick’s masterwork. To keep the comparison logical, I’ll only include movies that feature similar themes and settings to 2001, so don’t expect to see something like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind here.
Collider Exclusive · Sci-Fi Survival Quiz Which Sci-Fi World Would You Survive? The Matrix · Mad Max · Blade Runner · Dune · Star Wars
Five universes. Five completely different ways the future went wrong — or sideways, or up in flames. Only one of them is the world your instincts were built for. Ten questions will figure out which dystopia, galaxy, or desert wasteland you’d actually make it out of alive.
💊The Matrix
🔥Mad Max
🌧️Blade Runner
🏜️Dune
🚀Star Wars
01
You sense something is deeply wrong with the world around you. What do you do? The first instinct is often the truest one.
02
In a world of scarcity, what resource do you guard most fiercely? What we protect reveals what we believe survival actually requires.
03
What kind of threat keeps you up at night? Fear is useful data — if you’re honest about what you’re actually afraid of.
04
Which of these comes most naturally to you? Your strongest skill is your best survival asset — use it accordingly.
05
How do you deal with authority you don’t trust? Every dystopia has a power structure. Your approach to it determines everything.
06
Which environment could you actually endure long-term? Survival isn’t just tactical — it’s physical, psychological, and very much about where you are.
07
Who do you want in your corner when things fall apart? The company you keep is the clearest signal of who you actually are.
08
A comfortable lie or a devastating truth — which can you actually live with? Some worlds offer one. Some offer the other. Very few offer both.
09
Where do you draw the line — if you draw one at all? Every survivor eventually faces a moment that tests what they’re actually made of.
10
What would actually make survival worth it? Staying alive is one thing. Having a reason to is another.
Your Fate Has Been Calculated You’d Survive In…
Your answers point to the world your instincts were built for. Read all five — your result is the one that resonates most deeply.
The Matrix
You took the red pill a long time ago — probably before anyone offered it to you. You’re a systems thinker who can’t help but notice the seams in things, the places where the official version doesn’t quite line up. In the Matrix, that instinct is the difference between life and permanent digital sedation. You’d find the Resistance, or it would find you. The machines built an airtight prison. You’d be the one probing the walls for the door.
Mad Max
The wasteland doesn’t reward the clever or the well-connected — it rewards those who are hard to kill and harder to break. That’s you. You don’t need comfort, community, or a cause larger than the next horizon. You need a vehicle, a clear threat, and enough fuel to outrun it. You are unsentimental enough to survive that world, and decent enough — just barely — to be something more than another raider.
Blade Runner
You’d survive here because you know how to exist in moral grey areas without losing yourself completely. You read people accurately, keep your circle small, and ask the questions others prefer not to answer. In a city where humanity is a legal designation rather than a feeling, you hold onto something that keeps you functional. You’re not a hero. But you’re not lost, either. In Blade Runner’s world, that distinction is everything.
Dune
Arrakis is the most hostile environment in the known universe — and you are precisely the kind of person it rewards. Patience, discipline, pattern recognition, political awareness, and an understanding that the long game matters more than any single victory. Others come to Dune and are consumed by it. You’d learn its logic, earn its respect, and perhaps, in time, reshape it entirely.
Star Wars
The galaxy far, far away is vast, loud, and in a constant state of violent political upheaval — and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re someone who finds meaning in being part of something larger than yourself. You’d gravitate toward the Rebellion, or the fringes, or whatever pocket of the galaxy still believes the Empire’s grip can be broken. Whatever you are, you fight. And in Star Wars, that willingness is what makes the difference.
‘Solaris’ (1972)
Donatas Banjonis in the middle of a flower field in Solaris.Image via Mosfilm
Whereas the United States had Kubrick, the Soviet Union had Andrei Tarkovsky. Quite possibly the most important European filmmaker of the 20th century, Tarkovsky left behind a remarkable cinematic legacy that includes masterpieces like Stalker, Andrei Rublev, and Mirror. However, if one were to talk about his best picture, that would probably be Solaris, his 1972 adaptation of Stanislaw Lem‘s 1961 eponymous novel. The plot centers on a space station orbiting Solaris, a planet almost entirely covered by a massive and likely sentient ocean. The three-astronaut crew has fallen into a state of emotional crisis, prompting psychologist Kris Kelvin (Donatas Banionis) to travel to the station and investigate, only to find himself haunted by visions of his dead wife.
A quiet slow-burn that prioritizes introspection over spectacle, Solaris is a triumph of cerebral, methodical science fiction. Like the other movies on this list and Kubrick’s masterpiece, it uses its setting and premise to examine the depths of human nature and how the psyche is often defined by the past: regrets, mistakes, repressed feelings, and melancholies. Perhaps most intriguing is its exploration of the nature of love and how it can easily become something toxic and even dangerous, especially when not expressed appropriately. Solaris‘ insights into the limits of rationality are also as fascinating today as they were fifty years ago, especially in a genre that often sees logic as the only means of progress. Yet, in the end, for all its philosophical exploration and complexity, Solaris is a call to stop looking to the stars for progress and instead focus on what’s there on Earth. In the end, “man needs man,” and the emotional bonds are more powerful than we can ever imagine.
‘WALL-E’ (2008)
You might scoff at the idea of a Pixar movie going toe-to-toe with Kubrick’s ultimate masterpiece, but to that I scoff right back. In fact, it wouldn’t be an overstatement to call WALL-E the greatest sci-fi movie of the 21st century, not to mention the best effort from the prestigious and beloved studio behind other classics like Toy Story and Ratatouille. Based on a story by director Andrew Stanton and Pixar COO Pete Docter, the film centers on the titular robot, a garbage-disposing unit left alone in a futuristic, uninhabitable Earth full of waste and pollution. When the advanced robot EVE arrives, WALL-E forms a deep connection with her, finding companionship for the first time in his solitary existence.
WALL-E is a marvel of filmmaking, plain and simple. It barely uses any dialogue, instead opting for an episodic, near-slapstick approach to the comings and goings of the endearing robot at the center of its story. WALL-E is a miracle of a character, a sympathetic and profoundly relatable figure challenged by his condition but never defined by it. For a robot to have such a complex characterization is impressive in and of itself, but for the film to challenge conventions and subvert expectations regarding artificial intelligence remains quite novel, especially in today’s world. At its core, WALL-E is as much a story about loneliness and connection as it is a cautionary tale and warning against human hubris and its disregard for the environment. It also includes a fun reference to 2001‘s HAL 9000 in the form of AUTO, the AI in control of the Axiom, the ship where humanity exists following the Earth’s deterioration. WALL-E is a classic example of a movie taking inspiration from a previous masterwork and elevating the themes, reaching new heights in the process.
‘Arrival’ (2016)
Image via Paramount Pictures
If there’s any current director worthy of being called a master of sci-fi, it’s definitely Denis Villeneuve. The Canadian filmmaker has cemented his claim with banger after banger, from Blade Runner 2049 to the Dune duology. However, if there’s one certified masterpiece in his resume that’s in strong contention for the title of all-time great sci-fi, it’s Arrival, his 2016 adaptation of the 1998 Ted Chiang novella Story of Your Life. A career-best Amy Adams plays linguist Louise Banks, who is tasked with interpreting the language of aliens recently arrived on Earth. As she learns to communicate with them, Louise becomes aware of the truth behind their presence here.
You might accuse me of recency bias by including a movie from 2016, but the truth is Arrival is what all sci-fi movies should strive for. An outright perfect combination of cerebral and emotional storytelling, the film does a perfect job exploring humanity’s role in the grand, cosmic scope, not by sending them to the remote corners of the universe but by keeping them firmly grounded on Earth. Arrival reminds us that human progress is in humanity’s hands — what a concept, I know. Yet, it’s one that’s often lost in pointless discussions, politics, wars, and petty competitions. Moreover, Arrival never feels detached; instead, it remains remarkably empathetic, warm even, largely thanks to a thought-provoking, almost compassionate script and a truly masterful performance from Amy Adams. Indeed, Adams gave the best performance of 2016, male or female, and her Oscar snub has aged like milk under the summer sun.
