Top Ten "All that Glitters...": The Overrated Part 9 The Shining
The purpose of this list is not to give a critical lambasting to what a great number of viewers consider to be cinematic treasures. What I would like to provide my readers with is an alternative and admittedly more critical perspective to consider, one that hopefully will not detract from a person's appreciation for the films under review. At the same time, I'd question whether these motion pictures really deserve the high accolades bestowed upon them by many in the critical community. Perhaps it's like this: instead of "The emperor has no clothes," I'm saying "He's not quite as well dressed." (For a further introduction on this subject please see: Top Ten “All that Glitters…”: The Overrated Part 1.)
These notices are meant for viewers familiar with the following motion pictures.
* Note: Due to popular demand, I’m jumping ahead (in alphabetical order) to review The Shining and will proceed with Parts 6, 7, 8 and 10 at a later date.
The Shining (1980, U.S.A. / U.K.)
Director: Stanley Kubrick
Martin Scorsese once said: “One of his [Stanley Kubrick’s] movies are worth ten of somebody else’s.” Why would that be? It’s probably due to Stanley Kubrick’s carefully calculated and steadfast visionary approach. His unique methodology of infinitely assured visual composition matched with communicative confidence, insures a hypnotic effect of symbiotic imagery and sound most capable of leaving an audience utterly entranced. Although this exacting auteurist directs you in no uncertain terms to what he wants you to see, there is no apparent effort to influence how you feel. As a result, we tend to surrender ourselves when experiencing a Stanley Kubrick film. This is because one of the first things to be called out by a discerning eye is an artist’s manipulation of the viewer’s sentiments. It’s a forced falsification, yanking us out of our immersed state. Kubrick either doesn’t care what we feel or is too damn good at hiding it. Rarely does he centre on his characters’ heartfelt emotions which tends to leave his perceived temperament and subjects’ environment icy cold. When he does, however, *(1) the feelings expressed are born out of a unique set of circumstances, applied judiciously and derive honestly from the characters being portrayed. This attention to detail furthers his mastery over an audience’s subliminal involvement on a level most filmmakers can only aspire to.
In Stanley Kubrick’s body of work, he’s formally applied his considerable filmmaking skills to only two pure genre pieces (i.e. making little to no attempt to communicate beyond a film’s classification, deeper thoughts on human nature or ideas regarding some greater issue). The first was 1956’s The Killing, a super efficient, time twisted film noir ablaze with energy and character distinction. The second is the film I’m about to address, his one and only foray into the horror pantheon…
Kubrick’s inspiration is a novel by Stephen King with the author reportedly unhappy with his book to film translation and one can sort of see why. True horror often results from a "less is more" approach established to effectively stimulate the viewer’s imagination. It’s one of several principles the master filmmaker doesn't fully appreciate by the look of things. Blood cascades from elevators, ghostly twins stand in a hallway, a beautiful woman turns into a laughing, bedsore ridden hag and later, what looks like party guests celebrating the mayhem (sumptuous as the visuals often are). These sudden suggestive images are not perceived as menacing so much as distractions that obscure the story’s focal point: a progressively demonised father, Jack Torrance (played with an overabundance of animated gusto by Jack Nicholson) who ultimately attempts to kill his family. The auteur filmmaker seems to be throwing a lot of story-telling spaghetti against the wall with frankly, not a whole lot sticking. One might even wonder if the Overlook would have been better named the Overkill Hotel.
There are some expertly presented unsettling moments, e.g. the scene in which his wife sees what her husband’s been so hard at work writing, the meaning of “Redrum” observed in a mirror, and the singular sudden act of violence inflicted by Jack Torrance on a seasonal employee who, for Jack, has become his hotel’s most unwanted off-season visitor.
Abetting The Shining’s polished appearance is John Alton’s lush cinematography including a virtuoso, seductively gliding use of the Steadicam, and its ominous score: a combination of original music by Wendy Carlos and Rachel Elkind mellowly integrated by music editor Gordon Stainforth with pre-existing 20th Century compositions.
Kubrick mixes things up, however, with Jack’s flippant asides often heard during his interactions with Lloyd the bartender (Lloyd’s blank demeanour is effectively etched by Kubrick alumni Joe Turkel). The scene that most exemplifies this inharmonious mix of deadly dealings with a glib tone occurs when Jack, using his trusty axe, tries to get at his wife Wendy, the latter who’s overcome with fright behind a locked bathroom door. This is practically a shot for shot homage (or what those less impressed might say “copy”) of a scene in the 1921 Swedish film The Phantom Carriage aka Körkarlen. The major difference being that in The Shining, Jack inserts into his assault a quote from “The Three Little Pigs” and, after sticking his head in the door, “Heeere’s Johnny!” *(2) more improvisational sounding humour that further disengages us from the imminent threat at hand.
The apparitions themselves become a source of confusion. Wendy, for example, cannot see Lloyd the bartender when she locates Jack in the hotel’s Gold Room but does see many of its phantom guests later when frantically trying to find Danny. These concluding pop-up people (along with their requisite jump-scare sound effects) offer little to no rhyme or reason (other than shallow surprises) for their existence. One shouldn't have to read the book like a manual to know more about what they mean and therefore, how they might have been used in a less disruptive fashion to this film’s ambience.
Then there’s the comparatively inconsequential exposition regarding Jack’s son Danny (a poignant natural sincerity procured by actor Danny Lloyd). The boy’s seemingly 'on and off' telepathic capabilities, along with his little friend 'Tony' (who lives inside him), lack developmental follow through given the amount of attention provided to them. This initial narrative exposition should have been diverted to the story's main event: the resident ghosts' diabolical takeover of family man Jack Torrance and the resulting extreme destruction he’s willing to carry out. Danny communicates, by way of the film’s title, the dangerous situation at the lodge but at the expense of getting his adult friend Dick Hallorann (who also shares the same abilities) killed. *(3) His special talents don’t keep him from entering and then being aggressively attacked by the woman in room 237. At the story’s somewhat anti-climactic conclusion, *(4) Danny’s ingenuity in avoiding his father’s wrath in the maze utilises no observable supernatural faculty. After outsmarting Dad by backtracking in his own footsteps, he makes a clean getaway with Mom and then both the ‘mother and son’ part of the story (whom we’ve spent considerable time with) is abruptly over.
As an actor, Jack Nicholson has an innate ability to project a dominant demeanour into his roles as diverse as they are. We not only identify with his “no b.s.” outlook, we almost count on it. Regardless of the character he’s playing, Jack’s the one who tells it like it is. It’s that calculated cadence of his backed by a slow burning resolve that’s so cogent and beguiling. His characters’ typical assertiveness seems incompatible, however, with a weak, guilt ridden, recovering alcoholic. Later, after the premise’s evil spirits have taken acquisition, our ability to relate to Jack’s forthright nature is compromised by his overwhelming desire to cause such irreparable harm to his family. The actor’s “take charge” attitude (even if in The Shining he is shown to be a little unstable before his employment commences) shouldn’t make a Jack Nicholson character such an easy mark for his soul’s appropriation unless we know more about the powers of persuasion working against him… which we don’t. They are only alluded to at the beginning when the property management reluctantly describes what happened to a previous caretaker. That disclosure, plus the fact that the hotel is situated on an Indian burial ground, are key indicators that what’s about to happen to Jack is the result of outside forces at play. This, as opposed to some variation on Jack’s pre-existing condition or even preexistence which the story will contradictorily propose later.
One scene that illustrates the aforementioned dichotomy is Jack’s with the attendant Grady (a perfectly attuned performance by Philip Stone) in the washroom. Jack Torrance, the way only Jack Nicholson can in that devilish edgy tone of his, insists that Grady is the former caretaker who butchered his own family. This is the Nicholson persona we are familiar with and believe in. He’s calling out a guy who is pretending not to be who we know he is and Jack acts, as he often does, as our “cut the crap” kinda guy. *(5) In The Shining, however, Grady calmly one ups him by proclaiming: “… you are the caretaker here Mr. Torrance. You’ve always been the caretaker…” which makes us stop and wonder “who’s telling the truth?” The employment interview mostly indicates Jack had nothing to do with what went on prior to his landing the job at the hotel. On the other hand, Jack’s sense of déjà vu (spoken of during this meeting), pronounced familiarity with Lloyd, Grady’s initial admonition and the film’s last revealing image, say otherwise.
Keeping such a substantial degree of mystery alive surrounding the story’s foremost occurrences lessens the tension at hand since our thoughts are diverted to what that discord is. Leave it to Kubrick to deviate from the playbook. In a pure genre exercise like The Shining, however, the autocratic director shows little awareness of what guidelines might exist, especially since there are major story elements working against one another.
There are only a few moments in which Jack convincingly conveys a sense of fear for what is occurring (the most significant being after he has a nightmare) but these seem like oppositional aberrations or feigned frailties compared to numerous others in which he zealously embraces his newly found wicked ways. The result of Nicholson’s over-enthusiastic interpretation (facial contortions, eyes rolling around, eyebrows moving up and down, voice affectations etc.) brings a sort of joker-like regularity to his altered state, which takes our response in the opposite (less terrified) direction than what the actor might have intended. It’s not so much something happening to him… it just is him.
The victim of demonic takeover in The Exorcist (1973) is an innocent young girl. By making her this way, the contrast of who she was versus who she has become is heightened considerably. *(6) Jack Torrance, on the other hand, is pretty much right from the start “all-in” as they say: an eager participant, abetted by what appears to be an under-the-surface, and later, wilfully unleashed cynical contempt for both his wife and son. He even gets a major assist from Grady after Jack promises to fulfil both of their most horrific intentions. And if Grady and Lloyd (the latter who supplies Jack’s first drink in months) and the woman in room 237 (who assaults Danny and subsequently repels Jack) are all capable of acting outside of the spirit world, why would Grady in particular need a new recruit like Torrance to enact his latest dastardly desires?
If the filmmakers had decided to go in the direction of contrasting the before and after effects of revenant consummation, earlier scenes of family unity, maybe even a few more of affection (there is notably one, and a welcome one at that, between father and son) would have been in keeping with this approach. Instead, some may wonder what other-world entities possessed this husband and wife to come together in the first place. Right from the beginning, Jack’s animosity (later turned to hateful rage) toward Wendy is palpable. Shelley Duvall’s “need to please” characterisation seems purposely off-putting, and not only to her husband. Viewers may question if Mrs. Torrance would have created more empathy and situational tension if she was less passively annoying.
With The Killing, Kubrick carried on the tradition of film noir excellence by carefully examining the motives of his well defined characters. Modelled after The Asphalt Jungle, the heist’s first and foremost cinematic representative, Kubrick makes an artistic “killing” of his own.
The adherence to horror storytelling traditions, even limited to those involving children, can be best realised in the category’s finest apotheoses’, including Dead of Night (1945, i.e. the first recollection related in the film’s anthology), The Night of the Hunter (1955), The Innocents (1961), The Other (1972), and The Exorcist (1973), to name but a few. The Shining deserves credit for containing the filmmaker’s self-assured imaginings and hidden subtext *(7) displaying far more sophistication than your average slasher flick. The same film’s lack of fidelity to the genre’s inherent qualities, however, is exemplified by ill-judged plot ambiguity and the mishandled psychological transition of its central antagonist (as well as being an individual who succumbs to Kubrick’s fondness of making caricatures out of characters). These traits, along with a gaggle of unexpected oblique visual references and an antithetical intrusion of witticisms, mean that, overall, instead of “shining,” this film is more likely to be remembered as being rather dimly lit.
*(1) A notable degree of expressed emotion occurs, for example, at the conclusion of Kubrick’s WW1 film Paths of Glory where a terrified German civilian slowly wins over a group of rowdy French soldiers, and in 2001: A Space Odyssey when the computer HAL pleads to remain in operation.
*(2) “Heeere’s Johnny!” is a reference to announcer Ed McMahon’s spirited opening introduction to Johnny Carson on the long running hit TV series The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson.
*(3) One notable success in regards to Danny’s telepathic capabilities, is the snowcat Dick Hallorann arrives in after being alerted to the hotel’s dangers. With the other vehicle disabled by his father, the newly arrived transportation provides the only means of escape for Danny and his mother, although one might consider this unnecessary since Jack is frozen solid after getting lost in the maze.
*(4) We can be fairly certain that, no matter what, the severity of violence posed by Danny’s father in the maze will not come to fruition since if it were to happen, a conclusion consisting of the most grisly and terminable results imaginable would be too overwhelming for an audience to bear (although admittedly, Kubrick’s co-adaptor of King’s novel, Diane Johnson, was reportedly in favour of this narrative outcome). Thus (or still), the building of suspenseful savagery here was perhaps a bit more difficult to achieve than what its director envisaged.
*(5) Nicholson’s convincingly tough pronouncements are amply evident in his body of work: à la Bobby Dupea’s “You see this sign!?” said to a difficult waitress before violently clearing away all of his table’s paraphernalia in Five Easy Pieces, Buddusky’s “I am the mother fu**ing shore patrol!” to a redneck bartender In The Last Detail, Gittes’ “I said I want the truth!” to Evelyn Mulwray in Chinatown or “You can’t handle the truth!” to a Navy Lieutenant in A Few Good Men.
*(6) In The Exorcist, the stakes are raised considerably (i.e. compared to Jack Torrance’s mental condition) due to the thought of losing an innocent child in such a horrific and agonising fashion. The adolescent’s transformation is effectively enhanced by her prolonged medical tests that offer no relief, persistent deteriorating health, viciously violent self-harm and distraught mother. The conflict also becomes elevated between those wanting to evict the unholy spirits versus the hostile demons who insist on staying in possession of their chosen subject. No such battle of wills takes place in The Shining.
*(7) Pontificating on those subliminally implanted symbols of greater significance can be a stimulating intellectual exercise but it’s unlike, for instance, with 2001: A Space Odyssey where science fiction’s vast contemplative milieu lends itself to such interpretive ideas. In a horror film, our thoughts as to the events’ underlying relevance compete with the immediate frightful feelings this genre is best known for generating.
A.G.
Next time: we’ll resume alphabetical order with Top Ten “All that Glitters…” #6 The English Patient
The Shining can best be appreciated on this 4K Ultra HD version and purchased through Amazon.com by clicking on the image:
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Additionally, this title can be purchased on DVD by clicking on the image: