The Allure of The Shining

I could never quite pin down why I enjoy the legendary 1980 "horror" film The Shining so much. I will attempt to rectify this by typing it out on the pages of this blog. If nothing else, this is a cathartic post. 

I will preface my musings with a confession: I am no movie buff. If you are a devoted reader of I've Been Gone a Long Time, perhaps you have already considered this. You reason: He likes music, he likes sports (probably, I don't really read the sports posts), and he loves writing poetically about landscapes. But this still leaves you feeling reasonably unsatisfied. You wonder: Does he have any other interests? I find it hard to believe that a person would only have three interests! Your questions and concerns are about to be addressed...Here is my first post about film!  

Signs of what's to come.

I consider myself an avid enough music fan that I take liberties to write about it in a public forum. This renders myself vulnerable to potential backlash from people that know more about music than I do. I am okay with this because I feel confident enough to defend my opinions. I have immersed myself in music enough so that I feel like a relative authority on the topic. 

The main difference between the topics I have blogged about (music, sports, traveling) and any other topics: I seek them out in my life. I go out of my way to find new music. I read music and sports magazines. I spend time reading recaps of sports games. I spend huge chunks of my weekend driving around, attempting to experience new places and think about their geography. I do not seek out film. 

I am more of a secondary fan of film. My arsenal of film expertise begins and ends with my Introduction to Film 100-level course I took as an undergrad. I enjoy film and definitely critique films socially, as most people who have ever watched a movie do. I am gaining more of an appreciation for it as an all-inclusive art form. However, I exclusively rely on others for information about film. BOLD STATEMENT: If you exclusively rely on others for information regarding a particular thing, you are not a true fan of that thing. You are at most a secondary fan. Possibly even a tertiary fan. I only hear about "coming attractions" that might interest me from other people, or from seeing a preview. I never make the effort to look up what projects certain actors or directors are currently involved in. 

My only argument for actually being a movie buff: imdb.com is saved in the address bar of my internet browser. If I'm curious about an actor or a production, typically happening right after I have watched a movie or a tv show, I will hit up the imdb and indulge my query. It is here that I connect the dots of actors' careers, find out how a film was critically received, how famous actors are (their "star meter," a dangerous rabbit hole to fall into), all that shit.  Imdb is an outlet for me to obtain knowledge and insight regarding something I'm interested in. And there are few things in the world I value and crave more than knowledge and insight. But that is the extent of my Hollywood research.

Yes, I desire to know the backstories and the personalities of the people who create the art I consume. This is why I read music and sports magazines. I follow people who fascinate me on Twitter. I want to know how their brain works, in their own words. On the most basic level, I am fascinated by people and their personalities. It is the only reason I have a psychology degree. I view actors I love through the same lens as the musicians and sports figures I am a fan of; I am interested in them as people. However, the celebrity-gossip culture is something I will always be repulsed by. I have my own life and do not care who famous people are dating or what they ate for breakfast. Yes, some musicians and sports stars are included in these tabloids, but the "stories" mainly revolves around actors and actresses. Which slightly deters me from film in general. But the main reason I cannot be a movie buff?  

Movies are a huge time commitment. I don't like to frequently spend 90-150 minutes at a time in a sedentary state. Also, if I can't give my undivided attention to a movie, I don't see a purpose in watching. There is so much going on in every single frame; it is an all-encompassing experience. So many things to think about. So, I will not be looking up shit online or doing homework or playing with the dog or whatever while I have a movie on. You counter: Hey! What about sports! Aren't games like three hours long? They are, but I don't feel like I have to watch the entire game to experience sports. I can also read a recap and feel satisfied with my knowledge of the game's outcome. I can read about a movie, but I've never heard of anyone carrying on a conversation about a film they read about. The nature of the film medium is what prevents me from immersing myself. But if there's one film I am constantly immersing myself in, it's The Shining. 

Can I help you?

As far as I can tell, The Shining is one of the most well-known movies ever. Every person I ever mention it to seems to have an opinion about it (my mom hates it because it's too "scary."). Halloween night 2008 is when I popped my Shining cherry. SIDE NOTE: I've tried to sneak a viewing in around Halloween time every year since the first time I saw it (in addition to any other times throughout the year I get a hankering for it). That first time, Kate and I caught it on TV in her dorm room. She had seen it before and noted that I'd probably like it. I was transfixed by the suspense and Jack Nicholson's sheer intensity. It seemed like the perfect Halloween night television movie. It made an impression on me. 

That Christmas (or perhaps the following Christmas, my life before The Shining was one big haze) Kate had given me The Shining on DVD. I couldn't say how many times I've watched that DVD since. But I know in that time frame I've watched it more than I've watched any other film. Each time I watch it I get a stronger feeling that there is something beneath the surface that director Stanley Kubrick wants the viewer to have to work to figure out. 

There are so many aspects of this film that absolutely fascinate me. Starting with the intro. The long, narrow, winding road cutting through the pines and the mountains is the perfect metaphor for the film itself. It's long, it's lonely, and it feels like a fucking death march. The score is perfectly sinister. The one car on the road? It's you. You get the feeling like you might be the last person remaining on Earth if you happen to be watching it alone.   

This scene really underscores one of my favorite things about The Shining: the setting. First off, it's 1980. I romanticize everything about that period of time. The loud clothes, people smoking everywhere, the way the cars look, the way people interact with each other, the primitive technology. I feel like my blogging soul belongs in the 80's. If you have been keeping up (even a little) with the pages of I've Been Gone a Long Time you know I love the West and the mountains.  Well, the storyline is that a family is purposely sequestered in a lavish hotel in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado for the winter. A fantasy that speaks directly to my heart. It is mentioned explicitly that Jack Torrance (the caretaker) is to begin his assignment in early October, when the hotel closes for the season. Maybe I'm speaking from recency bias, as I type this on November 4th, but I feel like the crispness of the air, the shortening of days and the constantly overcast skies make for the perfect time of year for ominous things to occur. 

Ironically, my favorite part of the entire movie is actually the beginning. That is, starting the opening credits in the clip above until the very first scene of the Torrances alone in the hotel. It masterfully dictates the suspense and feeling of unease for the entire remainder of the movie. Especially due to the style of filmmaking: extremely long takes/shots.

EDITOR'S NOTE: When I say extremely long takes, I am not trying to come off as a filmmaking snob but trying to communicate just how suspenseful certain shots feel. When I say "shots" I'm referring to each individual image before the camera cuts to a different image or angle. I'd say shots in contemporary film and television last three or four seconds (no empirical evidence). But the shots throughout The Shining sometimes last around a minute. Extremely unnerving and suspenseful, particularly in the context of quick shots we are more accustomed to in more contemporary works.   

In the beginning of The Shining, the viewer is implored to pay close attention. Every moment feels vital; if you blink you're going to miss something important. Maybe I'm describing what most "beginnings" of movies set out to do. What I'm trying to say is that the beginning of The Shining is better than the beginning of any other movie. As I've watched and re-watched it, I find myself anticipating the beginning more than anything else. Each time I seek out subtle clues about strange, seemingly unexplainable occurrences later on in the film. The Shining is a dissertation in ambiguity. 

The ambiguity is what keeps most people coming back for more and more. Some examples: the frequent visions Danny has of the two little girls and of oceans of blood spilling out from the elevators... 

...Jack endlessly typing "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy"...The strange symbolism and significance of the hedge maze...Jack maddeningly throwing a tennis ball against the giant walls of the hotel...The woman inside Room 237...Danny riding his trike around the hotel accompanied by strange camera work...The presence and strange connection of Dick Hallorann...The cryptic flashback scene in the ballroom...Jack drinking bourbon at the bar...I could go on. As far as ambiguous, mystifying things that I always come back for, I do have a personal favorite. At the very end of the film, the camera slowly zooms in on an old photo from a ballroom event at the hotel. The camera eventually stops on Jack, who is in the middle of the photo surrounded by other party-people. Note the script:

 

1921. The movie takes place in the present (1980). I have never quite been able to figure out exactly what it means. During the ballroom flashback scene, Jack talks to "Grady," the supposed former caretaker who killed his family during his winter at the Overlook. Grady tells Jack that's he's always been at the hotel, that he (Jack) has always been the caretaker. This might explain why he was able to obtain his vice, alcohol, at the hotel bar when it had been said that the hotel disposes of all its liquor for the winter. But why was he hired by the hotel in the present? If he hasn't physically been there, has his "spirit" always been there? Is the above photo of spirits? My guess is that he has become a part of the hotel, and that the hotel has its own sort of "power" that it exercises to obtain more "spirits." And when anything threatens to stand in its way, as in when Danny uses his "shining" power to get Dick Hallorann to return to the hotel to save them, the hotel fights back. This is what I believe is occurring when Wendy is running away from Jack, wielding a knife, near the end of the film. She is starting to glimpse the parts of the hotel's past and if Jack is "successful in his duty" she will become part of the hotel too: (the "weirdest scene," according to Youtube, my social barometer)

The actors obviously play a crucial role in the overall tone of the film. Danny Lloyd, the child actor, shines (no pun intended) as dark, disturbed boy. Wendy, played by Shelley Duvall, is laughably overdramatic at times but certainly nails the part of subservient wife. As a whole, the film's aura is carried by Jack Nicholson's biting psychosis. But for me, what really makes Jack Torrance's downward spiral so real and alarming is the presence of Scatman Crothers, who plays the hotel's cook, Dick Hallorann. He is the antithesis of Jack; sunny and good-humored. He's long in the tooth and radiates sage wisdom. He is the only character in the entire movie that feels genuine and stable. The viewer just feels safe when he's on screen. This speaks to both Scatman's exceptional performance and Kubrick's expert portrayal of him. Or maybe I just am partial to him because his name is fucking Scatman.

On a lighter and more subjective note, another irresistible quality about The Shining to me is the way the characters interact with one another. I have always been completely amused and entertained by it. I typically despise light, thoughtless dialogue, which is exactly what The Shining brings to the table. But it's executed so deliberately and carefully that it enhances my enjoyment of the film immensely. It perfectly mirrors the early 80's, vaguely grainy yet simultaneously freewheeling aesthetic that I adore so much. In particular, the scene in which the family of three is driving up to the Overlook for the first time (I couldn't find a reference clip, but hopefully a photo will suffice): 

In this scene Jack is his typical curmudgeonly self for no apparent reason. His young son is pronouncing words weirdly and talking about how he knows about cannibalism. All gift-wrapped in one marathon take. I can never stop laughing. 

Speaking of laughter, the ways that The Shining gets me to laugh are truly unprecedented. I think my laughter is really just of the awestruck variety. I am in awe with just how perfectly suspenseful, both pace-wise and visually, everything in the movie is. I often catch myself laughing as Dick Hallorann walks slowly through the main hallway, in an attempt to save the family from Jack's rampage, shouting "HELLO? IS ANYBODY HERE?" I laugh when Danny is repeating "redrum! redrum! redrum!" as his voice gets higher and more cartoonish. These are pivotal horror and suspense set-ups, and I'm laughing. But I never feel like the suspense is compromised from my laughter. I'm laughing because it's fucking perfect.

With all of my intrigue being indulged, there are two things that have slightly blunted my undying fascination with The Shining: my reading of The Shining (as in, the Stephen King novel on which the film is based) and my watching of the film Room 237. The book, which I read around two years ago, is absolutely fantastic and gives a much lengthier backstory (the film is based on the book) to the character of Jack Torrance and his motives. It also, to my secret chagrin, explains a lot of the seemingly unexplainable quirks about the movie. I suppose some stones are better left unturned. Of course, when you come across a stone, the first thing you want to do is turn it over. 

The film Room 237 was released last year and I watched it a month ago. It is a riveting documentary film study on potential "hidden meanings" in The Shining. It is particularly nerdy and weird. But for anyone that considers themselves kind of a huge fan of The Shining, it is a must-watch. I feel like it almost 100% explains the unease and I've felt about something lying beneath the surface with the film for the last five years (it is a metaphor for the Native American genocide, it displays Kubrick's guilt for faking the 1969 American moon landing). Room 237 sort of comforted me in that it validates my strange feelings about the movie's undertones. But it also sort of feels like the my fascination party is over, like there's nothing left to guess about. I dare you to watch the entire Room 237 feature embedded in my blog (ignore the subtitles if you choose):

Kate and I had our Halloween-season viewing of The Shining on October 30th and I still enjoyed it immensely. Admittedly though, I was not as mystified as I once was. But Kate seemed more intrigued than usual... 

This post is to advise you to watch The Shining. Watch it again if you already have. Alone if you dare. Pay attention to the little things. Allow yourself to be amused by the way characters interact with each other. Make up conspiracy theories and track hidden messages. Because when the movie ends, your guess is as good as mine.