A down-to-the-wire screening provides a timely opportunity to fathom the wonders of ‘2001.’

A unique opportunity nearly passed us by--viewing “2001: A Space Odyssey” on the big screen in the first year of the new millennium--but it’s going to happen, in the nick of time. Thanks to Warner Bros. and the American Cinematheque, Stanley Kubrick’s groundbreaking masterpiece screens for two weeks at the Egyptian Theatre, today through Jan. 2. There’s no deleted footage and no digital tweaking of the visual effects, just a brand-new 70-millimeter print with six-track stereo sound. That’s all we need. That’s all we’ve ever needed to enjoy this awe-inspiring wide-screen experience.

But now that time has finally caught up with “2001,” 33 years after its celebrated release, is it any wonder that we view the film differently? Here in 2001, the film becomes more scorecard than prophesy, but that in no way diminishes its significance. After all, our place in the cosmos is still unknowable.

What we do know, of course, is that most of the scientific probability put forth in the film has become scientific fact. We are completely computer-dependent and goal-oriented but have only just begun perfecting artificial intelligence. We’ve gone to the moon and have built space stations but have not conquered space to the degree that Kubrick and novelist Arthur C. Clarke envisioned.

For better or worse, we’re still Earthbound, embroiled in the same timeless struggles about who we are and where we’re going. Yet “2001’s” depiction of humanity is very much on target: We’re still building better technology for survival and amusement. We’re still trying to make contact with God and extraterrestrials. And we’re still missing opportunities to make worthwhile contact with ourselves.

Which makes “2001” as relevant as ever, perhaps even more so after Sept. 11. In fact, we may never be able to gaze upon that wondrous black monolith again without being reminded of the Twin Towers. But then, “2001” has always had a way of startling the senses. What’s one more disturbing allusion?

Not surprisingly, the film holds up very well. It’s still “the ultimate trip” to infinity and beyond. Nothing’s ever come close--before or since--to rival its balletic and poetic beauty. It opened up a whole new kind of abstract narrative in mainstream films, and helped pave the way for music videos less than 20 years later. It revolutionized movie soundtracks with it’s sublime use of classical music. And there’s something organic about the visual effects, despite their being dated, that still overwhelms us. Credit special effects supervisor Douglas Trumbull, who went on to work on “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” and the rest of the talented team.

The funny thing is, although “2001” is filled with so many unforgettable images, they are inextricably linked in our minds to the music, which was Kubrick’s intention all along in charting man’s evolutionary progress.

Richard Strauss’ introduction to “Also Sprach Zarathustra” is used during the opening planetary alignment, then during the key moment when the man-ape realizes a bone can be used as a weapon and, finally, during man’s symbolic rebirth as a “Star Child.”

Johann Strauss’ overplayed “The Blue Danube” is ingeniously used during the docking of the space station.

Aram Khachaturian’s melancholy Adagio from the “Gayane Ballet Suite” is surprisingly used to introduce the film’s two astronauts (played by Keir Dullea and Gary Lockwood).

Gyorgi Ligeti’s atonal works are experimentally used during the encounters with the monolith, the trippy and transcendent journey through Jupiter’s atmosphere and during the subsequent 18th century-style observation sequence.

But perhaps best of all is the aching use of “Daisy, Daisy” during the destruction of HAL-9000, the computer.

Poor HAL. The more we view the film, the more deeply moving he becomes. It isn’t just a matter of his being more human than the humans; it’s that the older we get, the more we can empathize with his dilemma.

Perfection gone awry due to human error--the recurring theme in all of Kubrick’s films.

By providing new discoveries and delights with every viewing, let’s hope we never grow weary of “2001,” despised by a majority of critics when it opened in 1968. Yet audiences immediately caught the vibe--a testament to our openness and Kubrick’s imagination. Filmmakers continue to be influenced by it, evidenced by movies from “Star Wars” to “The Matrix.”

Time may have caught up with “2001,” but it’s still way ahead of us.

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“2001: A Space Odyssey,” American Cinematheque, Lloyd E. Rigler Theatre at the Egyptian, 6712 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood. Weekdays, 3, 6 and 9 p.m.; weekends, noon, 3, 6 and 9 p.m., through Jan. 2. $7 to $9. (323) 466-3456.