Saturday, October 31, 2015

Happy Halloween! Why 'The Shining' has become my favorite film

Since today is Halloween, this seems like an opportune time to write about how Stanley Kubrick's The Shining has gradually become my favorite film of all time. Since its polarizing initial release in 1980, this adaptation of Stephen King's best-selling novel has become appreciated as much more than a horror film. In fact, part of the reason I am borderline obsessed with this film is precisely because it can be so many things to viewers depending on how they chose to interpret.

Tim Burton's Batman still holds a very special place in my heart. It remains my favorite piece of pop movie entertainment, but my intense admiration for The Shining has to do with its artistry, complexity and still persistent secrets.

My re-evaluation of the movie began after seeing Room 237, one of my favorite documentaries of recent years, which indulges the mostly absurd conspiracy theories of Shining fans. Even if none of these concepts (such as the film being a metaphor for the Holocaust) are remotely close to Kubrick's intent, I was enthralled with the idea that a single film could inspire so much elaborate thought.

I started to revisit and re-watch the film, discovering new ideas and themes each time. 

It takes the simple elements of the original King story -- an emotionally damaged family of three, snowbound in a remote location -- and takes it to disturbing and yes, even delightful extremes. This is a dark film that also has lots of humor, terror and fantasy. 

The Kubrick film twists the Oedipus mythology in a compelling way -- this is a story about a father who hates his son for attracting the affection of his wife (who he also is relentlessly hostile to). Much was made when the film first came out (and among its detractors now) that the Nicholson performance telegraphs his eventual descent in the madness, but these viewers miss the point. He is supposed to be at the brink of insanity before he reaches the Overlook, it's just that circumstances push him over the edge.

As the story unfolds, there is trenchant commentary on abusive husband-wife relationships (and how they impact children), racism, the historic slaughter of Native Americans and sexuality as both a source of threat and desire. The film's glacial pace, ridiculed by critics in 1980, now creates a dreamlike trance -- when the credits re-emerge at the end it's almost startling because it reminds audiences that it's just a movie.

It's also one of the most visually arresting films of all time. Its use of the Steadicam is legendary but it's the angles and color scheme Kubrick uses too. His infamous meticulousness works wonders, virtually every moment on screen could be a beautiful photo or painting. Few movies have one or two iconic images in them -- this one is nothing but. Once you've seen "the twins" you will never ever forget them.

The performances are peerless. Jack Nicholson gives a movie star performance for the ages -- part James Cagney, party Wile E. Coyote. His energy and expressiveness have never been matched, this role inspired hundreds of bad imitations but has never been topped. And Shelley Duvall, always underrated, does a phenomenal portrait of a weak-willed woman hopelessly trapped in an abusive relationship.

And the movie is the rare work of art that turns its idiosyncrasies into strengths. There a lot of things that happen in the film that aren't logical and simply can't be explained. For instance, up until a certain point in the story you could argue that everything could really take place either in the mind of the protagonist, or in the "real world." But then something surreal happens (I'm talking about when Jack is let out of freezer by some unknown entity) and you go with it because the movie is just that engaging. Today, all of the movie's oddities (including what appears to be an image of fellatio being performed by a large man in a bear costume) provoke endless speculation but little resolution, which is part of what makes the movie so haunting.

In my living room I have a small framed version of the eerie 1921 photo that ends the film. I believe that image encapsulates everything special about The Shining. It's scary in a deeply unsettling way, it's funny in a cheeky, anachronistic sort of way and it is mysterious -- is Jack stuck in the past, or did he willfully go back in time? Is he a ghost now or was he always some sort of spirit being? I have no clue, but I can't stop watching to find out.

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