The Guardian has continued to prove itself as my new favourite newspaper. In an article published in 2004, Jon Ronson wrote about his extensive and deeply personal access to Stanley Kubrick’s estate in Hertfordshire. The article showcases some of the mans’ expected, yet non-the-less fascinating, quirkyness while also exposing a deeply rational and human side to someone who liked to groom an image of the mad hermit genius.

Tony takes me into a large room painted blue and filled with books. “This used to be the cinema,” he says.

“Is it the library now?” I ask.

“Look closer at the books,” says Tony.

I do. “Bloody hell,” I say. “Every book in this room is about Napoleon!”

“Look in the drawers,” says Tony.

I do.

“It’s all about Napoleon, too!” I say. “Everything in here is about Napoleon!”

…

“Somewhere else in this house,” Tony says, “is a cabinet full of 25,000 library cards, three inches by five inches. If you want to know what Napoleon, or Josephine, or anyone within Napoleon’s inner circle was doing on the afternoon of July 23 17-whatever, you go to that card and it’ll tell you.”

It also provides some insight into the use of typefaces in many of his films, which is fascinating for any of us typophiles out there. I wonder if Wes Anderson’s obsession with Futura is a kindly reference to Kubrick?

I take a break from the boxes to wander over to Tony’s office. As I walk in, I notice something pinned to his letterbox. “POSTMAN,” it reads. “Please put all mail in the white box under the colonnade across the courtyard to your right.”

It is not a remarkable note except for one thing. The typeface Tony used to print it is exactly the same typeface Kubrick used for the posters and title sequences of Eyes Wide Shut and 2001. “It’s Futura Extra Bold,” explains Tony. “It was Stanley’s favourite typeface. It’s sans serif. He liked Helvetica and Univers, too. Clean and elegant.”

“Is this the kind of thing you and Kubrick used to discuss?” I ask.

“God, yes,” says Tony. “Sometimes late into the night. I was always trying to persuade him to turn away from them. But he was wedded to his sans serifs.”

Tony goes to his bookshelf and brings down a number of volumes full of examples of typefaces, the kind of volumes he and Kubrick used to study, and he shows them to me. “I did once get him to admit the beauty of Bembo,” he adds, “a serif.”

“So is that note to the postman a sort of private tribute from you to Kubrick?” I ask.

“Yeah,” says Tony. He smiles to himself. “Yeah, yeah.”

Citizen Kubrick at The Guardian

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