Nicholson stars as a recovering alcoholic writer who accepts a job as a caretaker at an isolated mountainside hotel during the off-season in order to hopefully get some work done on his latest novel. He brings along his naive, wide-eyed wife, played by Shelley Duvall, and son, played by Danny Lloyd, who has an imaginary friend named Tony who speaks through Danny's mouth in a disturbing groan.
It is revealed early on that Nicholson's character, Jack Torrance, gave up alcohol after an "accidental" moment of abuse in which he pulled his son's shoulder out of its socket. We sense the family has never quite recovered from this incident, as mother and son seem fearful of a relapse and father seems clearly guilty and indignant about the incident.
There are a few catches to the seemingly peaceful, if isolated, winter retreat. First, a previous caretaker went mad and murdered his own family (a wife and two daughters) with an axe. Secondly, it quickly becomes clear that son Danny doesn't just have an imaginary friend, but he seems to have a special gift for seeing into other peoples' minds, as well as seeing nightmarish visions of the past and prophetic visions of the future. The hotel chef, Halloran (Scatman Crothers) senses this gift, and calls it "shining." He explains to Danny that some people shine, and some places, like the hotel, shine as well. Then, he warns Danny to stay out of room 237.
So, of course, Danny's drawn to room 237. He also sees disturbing images of what might be the past or future of the hotel, including the disturbing vision of two girls asking him to play with them -- "forever." Meanwhile, Nicholson's character slowly starts to slip into insanity while his wife tries to understand what's going on, to no avail.
Kubrick revisits some of his favorite themes here, including the sense of isolation and suspense built from repetition, showcased so well in 2001, as well as the ideas of murder and insanity as explored in A CLOCKWORK ORANGE. The deserted winter hotel setting is perfect for Kubrick's penchant towards brightly lit, sterile settings with clean, sharp lines and symmetrical shapes, turning tacky hallway carpeting into art. The camera constantly floats down corridors, following characters around corners for surprising reveals, fully exploiting the steadicam work of steadicam inventor Garret Brown.
The film sets an unsettling tone from the beginning with its detached, cold dialogue, distanced shots and methodical editing, typical of Kubrick. The suspense is heightened with the otherworldly music, cobbled together from several contributors, always seeming to hit the dramatic notes at moments when you least expect it, filling in the quiet moments instead of amplifying the loud ones. The movie seems to delight in unsettling the audience by following big revelations with sudden chapter breaks with under-stated subtitles like "Tuesday" or "One Month Later" punctuated with an orchestral sting.
Ultimately, I'd say most of the scares come from the idea of a family's father turning against them. Somehow, the ghosts of the past seem to infect the family of the present, and whether they're all descending independently into madness, or if all of this is really happening, it's still freaky to have the dad chasing the family through the abandoned hotel with an axe. Nicholson is an actor who succeeds in remaining endlessly charming even when he seems creepy, so to see him ratchet the insanity up to 11 here is a treat.
Duvall has a somewhat thankless role of an increasingly hysterical mother, but the amount of emotional work that must have gone into her performance shouldn't be underestimated. And, young Danny Lloyd turns in a remarkable performance. The rumors abound about Kubrick's raw treatment of actors, but if there was ever a testament to his method paying off, THE SHINING would be it.
I guess one of the most interesting things about this film is how it works both as an art film and a genuine horror movie. It's scary and unsettling enough that kids still pass down rumors of how frightening it is, despite the inflated running time, stretches of quiet, thoughtful moments, and lack of actual body count. But, it's beautiful enough that even the stuffiest, most pretentious film nerd has to admit it's possible for a ghost movie to be great.
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