With the passing of Shelley Duvall earlier this month, Shudder has offered up The Shining (1980), one of the best horror films ever captured on celluloid.  Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of Stephen King’s 1977 novel—which King famously hated, until he didn’t—has been analyzed to death, but like the ghosts of the Overlook Hotel, yours portly will offer up his own humble exorcism of these now-familiar haunts.

What can be written that has not been already?  The Torrance family—Jack, Wendy, and Danny—move to the remote Overlook Hotel to serve as its winter caretakers.  Jack, struggling with alcoholism and his own sense of failure and frustration as a writer, views the job as an opportunity to write in near-total solitude during the long winter months.  Wendy, who is desperately trying to keep her marriage and family together amid the insinuation of Jack’s physical abuse of young Danny, portrays an anxious chipperness that the move will exorcise Jack’s demons.

Little Danny possesses his own psychic abilities:  a form of telepathy and premonition known as “The Shining.”  The Overlook’s head chef, Dick Hallorann, immediately recognizes this ability in Danny, and explains what the “shine” is.  He also warns Danny that the hotel itself has a “shine” of a malevolent nature, and to avoid Room 237.

The Overlook, indeed, has a dark past:  its prior caretaker, Charles Grady, murdered his wife and two daughters a decade earlier before taking his own life.  But there are other, even more sinister ghosts “shining” in the rambling hotel.

Indeed, The Overlook seems designed for maximum hauntability:  it was built on an Indian burial ground; it was a playground for the degenerate elites (as soon in the brief shot late in the film of some kind of a man engaged in some bizarre sexual act with a person in a bear costume); and the previous caretaker murder-suicided his entire family.  The place is soaked with blood, literally and metaphorically; the iconic river of blood gushing forth from the elevator is a powerful symbol of the murderous, dark history of the hotel.

And, of course, Jack slowly unravels psychologically as The Overlook weaves its dark magic, luring Jack back to alcoholism and, ultimately, to murder.

Much has been written about The Shining and what it means.  The earliest mainstream interpretations of the film argued it was a metaphor for America’s collective guilt about the conquest and subjugation of the American Indians.  That seems to be a compelling interpretation, but I’d argue it’s just one of many compelling interpretations.

Therein lies a strength—one of many, again—of the film:  it features layers upon layers.  Just like the infamous hedge maze at The Overlook, it’s easy to lose oneself in the twisting corridors of interpretation of The Shining.  The Overlook itself is, perhaps, a fitting metaphor for the film:  the layout of the hotel’s interior is impossible given its exterior dimensions.  Similarly, The Shining‘s elements create something that is more than the sum of its parts—rooms that should not fit into the whole, but do.

Even if we don’t enter into the Kubrickian labyrinth, The Shining presents a compelling narrative:  a troubled, frustrated man lashes out at the family that he believes is preventing him from achieving his dreams.  The isolation, coupled with his own sense of entitlement—Jack externalizes his personal failures, blaming his loved ones—drive him to murderous madness.  Perhaps the ghosts are real, or just figments of Jack’s deteriorating mental condition, brought on by cabin fever; regardless, they are “real” enough in that they drive him to deadly action.

That narrative is simple enough, but it’s set against the gorgeous, unsettling shots that only Kubrick could achieve, and a cast of incredible professionals bring it to life.  Kubrick’s mistreatment of Duvall on the set is legendary, and a great deal of Duvall’s hysterical breakdowns are likely real, as the actress reached her psychological limit during filming.  Duvall herself is perfectly cast; her very physical appearance in the film, even before she breaks down into screaming and tears, shouts at the viewer “this woman is frail and on the verge of a mental breakdown.”

One of King’s criticisms is that the film focuses more on Jack Torrance than Danny, the latter being the protagonist of the novel.  Danny does get somewhat lost in the shuffle here, and I have always had the nagging feeling that his character is a bit underdeveloped.  That said, he plays a critical role in the plot, as he’s able to reach out to Dick Hallorann using “The Shining.”

There is so much more to write about this incredible film:  the soundtrack, the sets, the interpretations, the characters.  This review is but my small contribution to the wealth of commentary and discussion about this film, which still invites analysis and debate forty-four years after its release.

One point we can all agree on:  The Shining features more iconic scenes and set pieces than any other horror film, perhaps rivaled only by The Exorcist (1973).  Few other films have been referenced or spoofed.

Now that I’ve written this review, I think it’s time to watch The Shining again.  The more I write and read about it, the more I want to return to its strange, ghostly world.