THE SHINING (Stanley Kubrick, 1980, USA) Jack Torrance is a torrent of misogyny, denial, and self-loathing: devoured by compulsion, he writes his failure in blood. Director Stanley Kubrick has crafted one of the great horror films: though it deviates from the source novel it stands on its own as a brutal metaphor of secretive domestic violence, the self-destructive impulses of alcoholism, and child abuse that is a preternatural curse, a pre-existing condition that allows Jack to become a violent boy of all work and no play…and his axe isn’t very dull either. Kubrick creates the dynamic tension from the very beginning as Wendy Carlos’ eerie score haunts Jacks’ tiny VW as it climbs towards the Overlook Hotel, the omniscient viewpoint like some ethereal ghost following his tragic journey. The paternal family is already fractured as Wendy and Danny are left alone while Jack is being interviewed, and the car ride to the Hotel is indicative of their relationship: cold, sparse, and emotionally isolated. Kubrick frames the three of them with Danny in the middle, but the dialogue is icy and static, dreary and rehearsed, a symptom of a family already disintegrating. Filmed mostly with a Steadicam, the cinematography seems to float and stalk the family, the Overlook like a hulking demon from Danny’s viewpoint. Soon Jack’s mental breakdown comes as no surprise, possessed by some dark power that to him has become a harsh reality. Danny’s gift is only a picture book of ghastly images and dire warnings, while Wendy discovers that a battered woman can indeed find inner strength against her abuser. Beautifully filmed and masterfully paced, THE SHINING veers towards burlesque with Nicholson’s performance, but it plays perfectly against Shelly Duval’s hysterics, her reactions emotionally claustrophobic and restrained until the final act: she is a woman on the verge of a mental breakdown but, unlike her husband, is able to commit a selfless act to save her son, and find salvation. THE SHINING is a work of fiction, a Grand Guignol ghost story filled with genre conventions, but strip away the supernatural and the narrative still works on a visceral level: it becomes a believable story of a marriage turned murderous. And herein lies the true horror like the Telltale Heart, a savage rhythm obsessively audible under thin ice. (A+)
It's funny how the colors of the real world only seem really real when you viddy them on the screen.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
THE SHINING (Stanley Kubrick, 1980, USA) Jack Torrance is a torrent of misogyny, denial, and self-loathing: devoured by compulsion, he writes his failure in blood. Director Stanley Kubrick has crafted one of the great horror films: though it deviates from the source novel it stands on its own as a brutal metaphor of secretive domestic violence, the self-destructive impulses of alcoholism, and child abuse that is a preternatural curse, a pre-existing condition that allows Jack to become a violent boy of all work and no play…and his axe isn’t very dull either. Kubrick creates the dynamic tension from the very beginning as Wendy Carlos’ eerie score haunts Jacks’ tiny VW as it climbs towards the Overlook Hotel, the omniscient viewpoint like some ethereal ghost following his tragic journey. The paternal family is already fractured as Wendy and Danny are left alone while Jack is being interviewed, and the car ride to the Hotel is indicative of their relationship: cold, sparse, and emotionally isolated. Kubrick frames the three of them with Danny in the middle, but the dialogue is icy and static, dreary and rehearsed, a symptom of a family already disintegrating. Filmed mostly with a Steadicam, the cinematography seems to float and stalk the family, the Overlook like a hulking demon from Danny’s viewpoint. Soon Jack’s mental breakdown comes as no surprise, possessed by some dark power that to him has become a harsh reality. Danny’s gift is only a picture book of ghastly images and dire warnings, while Wendy discovers that a battered woman can indeed find inner strength against her abuser. Beautifully filmed and masterfully paced, THE SHINING veers towards burlesque with Nicholson’s performance, but it plays perfectly against Shelly Duval’s hysterics, her reactions emotionally claustrophobic and restrained until the final act: she is a woman on the verge of a mental breakdown but, unlike her husband, is able to commit a selfless act to save her son, and find salvation. THE SHINING is a work of fiction, a Grand Guignol ghost story filled with genre conventions, but strip away the supernatural and the narrative still works on a visceral level: it becomes a believable story of a marriage turned murderous. And herein lies the true horror like the Telltale Heart, a savage rhythm obsessively audible under thin ice. (A+)
