The first time I saw The Shining, I was a little let down. Sure, I liked it okay, but the film had such a reputation that I was expecting to be blown away. How often do we see legendary directors entering the horror genre and succeeding? And how many other horror movies have become so ingrained in popular culture as this one? Obviously, The Shining is a classic. And yet...something just didn't click for me. This year, I thought I would give it another go and see what influence age, wisdom, and forgetfulness would have on my opinion.
This is an endearing tale of a man and his love of bourbon, right?
Jack (Jack Nicholson) is an aspiring writer looking for a change, so he takes a job as the winter caretaker of the Overlook Hotel. The hotel's staff leaves for about five months out of the year because the area receives so much snow that the hotel is effectively isolated from humanity. Of course, they might take time off because the hotel is built on an Indian burial ground, has ghosts, and a previous winter caretaker had gone insane and murdered his family in the hotel; po-tay-to, po-tah-to. Did the killer caretaker go crazy from cabin fever? Nobody knows. But why shouldn't Jack bring his wife, Wendy (Shelley Duvall), and son, Danny (Danny Lloyd), with for five months of quality family time?
No reason
Before the hotel staff leaves, though, Dick Hallorann (Scatman Crothers) pulls little Danny aside and lets him in on a secret --- he knows that Danny secretly has some sort of psychic ability. Dick calls it "the shining," and he has it too; unfortunately, places sometimes "shine" when really bad things happen there; think of it as a psychic ring-around-the-collar. The Overlook Hotel has a nasty "shine" to it. At first, things seem fine. Danny and Wendy find all sorts of things to do in the enormous hotel. Jack, though, seems to be suffering from writer's block and is getting more and more irritable. And creepy. And he starts hallucinating. Is it just a case of cabin fever, or is it something worse?
It's worse --- as caretaker, Jack has to clean this up
Oh, man, I needed a movie like this. The horror movies I've been reviewing this month (with the exception of Thirst) have been fairly cut and dry with their direction; either the directors were competent or they were not. Stanley Kubrick is, of course, more than just competent --- the man was an artist. Enjoying his technical prowess with the camera, his use of color and sound, not to mention the great performance by Jack Nicholson, was a treat after so many bad slasher pics. Right from the opening scene, we get a gorgeous series of helicopter shots, showing Jack's car absolutely dwarfed and completely surrounded by untamed nature; not only is that pretty to look at and unlike almost anything else you will see in a horror movie, but it's symbolic. Hell, yeah! That's what I've been missing from my cinematic diet recently!
Art + axe-wielding maniac = can't miss movie
As impressive as the visuals are --- and there are a ton of iconic shots in this movie, so "impressive" is probably underselling it --- what struck me in this viewing was Kubrick's use of sound. I loved the discordant static when there was any shining going on; it was usually subtle, but called attention to itself every so often, like when Dick and Danny first meet. Similarly subtle is the unreasonably unsettling noise of Danny's big wheel as he tears across the hotel's wooden floors. There is no reason to suspect something is wrong, but the uncharacteristically loud and abrasive noise sets you up for the creepiness that lies just around the corner.
Kubrick's direction is fantastic, but it would have been just an empty technical exercise without the effort of Jack Nicholson. Nicholson, once again, takes a pretty standard role (an alcoholic writer going crazy) and makes him charming and frightening at the same time.
...and this is his "charming" face
In other words, Nicholson takes a role that could have been shallow or overacted in another actor's hands and instead fleshes it out into a believable character. I noticed something new this year, though; Jack's condescension toward his wife always struck me as odd, but it made more sense to me this time --- his character here almost feels like a logical extension of his role in Five Easy Pieces, only this character got married to the pleasant but dumb chick. Speaking of whom, I was not impressed by Shelley Duvall. As good as Jack Nicholson was, Duvall was commensurately bad. It felt like she was an extra that was asked to read lines with the cast during a break, not the lead actress in a motion picture.
I hate mouth breathers
She and Kubrick infamously clashed throughout production, but I am astounded that Kubrick settled for the performance we see on screen. Maybe they just wanted Wendy to be a spineless dishrag of a character. Little Danny Lloyd wasn't much of an actor (although no relation to Jake Lloyd), but he did a good job of being completely impassive whenever adults were speaking to him. Other than an impressive blank stare and a creepily-voiced finger...
Lesson: kids are stupid
...I suppose Danny was adequate. This was years before audiences actually expected anything out of their child actors, so I guess that being okay was good enough, even in a movie like this. Personally, I would have liked to see him act frightened more often, because that was when he was at his best.
Trauma = Acting
As much as I enjoyed The Shining this time --- it went from "pretty good" in my mind to "effing great" --- it is occasionally uneven. First and foremost, this is a long horror movie. I understand that it takes time to set the mood just right, but damn it's long for what it is. Perhaps more irritating for many people is how the movie doesn't tie up its loose ends.
What was with Grady having two first names?
Was Jack a reincarnation of a former Overlook employee, or was he absorbed by the evil hotel?
Is this a story of a haunting, or simply a man going insane?
Why did Jack seem to lose the ability to communicate as the film progressed?
I'm not going to try to answer those questions, even though I believe they are all important. I like the ambiguity in this story because it allows viewers to come up with their own interpretation of what has occurred. I don't always like it when filmmakers force the audience to decode their stories (David Lynch, I'm looking at you), but I think The Shining conveys enough of the story to allow viewers to enjoy it with a single viewing; subsequent viewings, though, make the inconsistencies more noticeable, which made me want to discuss and enjoy the movie further.
Sometimes, all you need is a friend to set things straight for you
I'm so glad I took the time to re-watch The Shining this month. It's not necessarily one of those movies that you immediately acknowledge as a classic (as evidenced by its lukewarm initial reception), but there are a lot of layers here and it is fun to see how Kubrick tries to frighten audiences. The movie is too long and the non-Nicholson cast is mediocre if you're being generous, but the film makes up for its deficiencies in other ways. This is a horror movie with almost no violence, and yet it is one of the most creepy, claustrophobic films you will ever see.
I have a few side notes to add. Is it strange that I laughed out loud when this image flashed on the screen?
It's probably not supposed to be funny, but I giggle every time I see it. I think it's Jack's gaze, combined with his eyebrows. Whatever.
I have actually visited the place that inspired Stephen King to write The Shining, the Stanley Hotel in Colorado. It's not as creepy as the Overlook (the movie was filmed elsewhere), but it is kind of cool to see how closely the film conveys some of the rooms in the building. Oh, and the Stanley has a TV channel that plays The Shining on a continuous loop, which is pretty cool.
And I can't review The Shining without making a single reference to The Simpsons. For my money, this is their best "Treehouse of Horror" episode ever.
Is it too bold to call Batman the most influential film of the past 25 years? Sure, Saving Private Ryan changed battle scenes forever, and Pulp Fiction popularized nonsequential storytelling and awesome dialogue, but I really think there is a case to be made for Batman. For starters, this is the first "dark" take on any comic book hero; before this, you had the campiness of Batman: The Movie (1966) and Flash Gordon (aaa-AAA-aaa!!!)
This was the first big-budget comic book movie, the first one to make a controversial casting choice (Mr. Mom as Batman?), the first one to take something resembling a real-life look at superheroes (look ma, no spandex!), and the first superhero movie to get award recognition (it won an Oscar and had an acting Golden Globe nomination --- an acting nomination in a comic book movie!). This is the film that allowed Tim Burton to do whatever he wanted for the next ten or fifteen years. Heck, this is the sole reason they made the fantastic Batman: The Animated Series, and that alone is enough of a legacy for me.
So, even though you already know the basics, I'm going to run through the Bat-plot. The movie opens with a couple of thugs robbing a family in Gotham City and making off with their spoils. Naturally, they go up to the rooftop of a building to do this, because going to a hideout, alley, apartment, or their car would be much too private. One of the thugs is nervous that "the Bat" will come after them; he heard that so-and-so got dropped off a building by the Bat. Naturally, that's nonsense. That is when Batman (Michael Keaton) suddenly appears. He kicks the ever-loving crap out of one guy, but then takes a bullet to the chest and goes down. But he doesn't stay down. He get right back up and scares the remaining thug; Batman politely tells him to spread the word to all his hoodlum friends that Batman is protecting Gotham City's streets. I detail this opening scene for a reason, but I'll get to that later.
Basically, this is a "Batman Begins" before Batman Begins. Bats is a fairly new sight in town, more of an urban legend than a known entity. The police are not sure what to make of him, either, but they've got other things on their plate. Organized crime has Gotham City under siege. Instead of doing the logical thing and calling Steven Seagal, Lawman, to fix their problems, Gothamites instead opt to elect a new District Attorney, Harvey Dent (Billy Dee Williams) to help Police Commissioner Gordon (Pat Hingle) in his war on crime. Their "war" is not terribly effective, though, as local mob kingpin Carl Grissom (Jack Palance) and his number two man, Jack Napier (Jack Nicholson), are having their way with the town. Things start to get complicated when Grissom realizes that Napier is sleeping with his fugly girlfriend, Alicia (Jerry Hall), and sets Jack up to get busted by the police. In the ensuing raid, the police (with the help of Batman) manage to back Napier into a corner, only to have him "accidentally" fall into a vat of dangerous chemicals. Dangerous, but not apparently lethal. Jack Napier survived his chemical bath with only a few side-effects: chalky white shin, green hair, his cheek muscles frozen into a big grin, and little to no sanity. The Joker has arrived.
Meanwhile, a couple of reporters, Alex Knox (Robert "Arliss" Wuhl) and Vicki Vale (Kim Basinger), are trying to dig into the Batman story. Does he exist? Does he work for the police? Why are there no photos of him? Et cetera? Et cetera? Little do they realize that the mysterious and wealthy Bruce Wayne spends his evenings dressing up as a giant bat to fight crime. If I was a reporter and saw all the customized and expensive equipment Batman had (Hello? Batmobile? He even has a Batplane!), I would certainly begin suspecting the nearest millionaire, but that's just me. Can Batman handle these two muckrakers and still defend the city against a sociopath who has just upgraded to psychopath? And what about love? Does he have time for love? Oh, wait...sorry...I got "love" and "beating the hell out of criminals" mixed up again.
This is a movie that changed the industry. For better or for worse, there would be no Spider-Man, X-Men, or Watchmen without the success of Batman, much less any of the dozens of lesser-known works that have become movies over the past few years. The first thing this movie does right is in the set design department. Gotham City looks awesome. It's big, tall, imposing, and dirty --- the perfect place for crime to breed. Wayne Manor is perfect, too; it's big, imposing, and museum-like --- absolutely the last place you would want to eat soup. The costumes are good, too. It was nice to finally see a superhero that wasn't wearing his underwear on the outside of his outfit. And, since Batman has no super-powers, adding things like bulletproof armor makes sense; his tools on his utility belt looked real and effective, too. Of course, Batman's vehicles looked awesome, even if the Batmobile is impractical for city driving.
Right. It's that easy to find street parking for this beast.
Once you get past the sets, costumes, and props, what are you left with? Some surprisingly solid acting, actually. I've always liked Michael Keaton as Bruce Wayne/Batman, partially because he was able to convey both distraction and mental unrest separately, and also because he made a pretty good Batman. Let's be honest, though --- his charming Bruce Wayne performance is what grounds this movie. This is essentially the only action role Keaton ever played, so kudos to Tim Burton for having the vision to cast him. Of course, you can't talk about Batman without mentioning Jack Nicholson's performance as the Joker. I think Nicholson's work here has been diminished in the past few years by Heath Ledger's amazing performance in The Dark Knight, but that's a little unfair. The key comic stories that inspired Ledger's performance had not been written yet when this film was being shot; I know Tim Burton often credits The Killing Joke as inspiration for his movie, but it was published a month before pre-production started for this movie, so I doubt it had much of an impact. Despite this, Nicholson came off as a devious, dangerous loon, and he's a hell of a lot of fun to watch. Besides, he manages to look good while wearing a purple suit. He's no Prince, but he still looks good. Heck, his Jack Napier performance alone was good enough for its own movie. Aside from the powerful performances from the two lead actors, most of the supporting cast was only decent. Michael Gough did a good job as Alfred, Bruce Wayne's fatherly butler, and Tracey Walter (who got the job just because he's friends with Nicholson) was awesome as the Joker's henchman Bob, but the rest were pretty dull. That's too bad, because Billy Dee Williams is capable of a little more than that (but not much more). As for Kim Basinger, Robert Wuhl, Jack Palance, Jerry Hall and the rest...well, they played their parts. I'll give Jerry Hall some credit --- I have trouble differentiating between her pre-Joker-deformed face and her regular one. Wait..."credit" was probably the wrong term to use there...
Tim Burton's direction is pretty good, but it is a little dated. Yes, Batman was surprisingly and refreshingly gritty in 1989. Yes, he got good (even great) performances from his two lead actors. The look and feel of the movie are great. And yet, there is a lot more campiness in this film than I remembered. Most of it deals with Joker's henchmen; they all have matching, custom-made uniforms, drive professionally detailed Joker-themed cars, and are willing to die for the Joker for reasons I cannot fathom. As amazing as Bob's final scene is, if I was dumb enough to be a villain's henchman, that would have been the moment I decided to retire. As for Burton's "dark" take on the characters, it has gotten comparatively lighter with time. When Batman was first released, it was a revelation to the general public that wasn't nerdy enough to have studied The Dark Knight Returns already. Over twenty years later, though, it almost feels quaint, especially when compared to Batman Returns and the Christopher Nolan movies. Despite all that, I think this was a monumental effort by Burton to go against expectations and risk a lot of money on an idea that had no guarantee of success. Is this Burton's best work? No, it's not even his best Batman movie. It is, however, the godfather of the new millennium's summer blockbusters, and it deserves some respect, dammit.
The story doesn't deserve as much respect, though. I like that this isn't an origin story for Batman, but I wish it was a little less silly at times. What's so silly? In a word, the Batplane. In two words, Joker's revolver. Let's ignore the idiocy of characters that live in fear of the Joker when he poisons their groceries, but dance in the streets with him if he's giving away money --- that obviously won't have a catch, right? By the way, Arliss, if there is poison gas killing people all around you, a paper face mask isn't going to protect you. Thank goodness there are no police near this publicly advertised parade. Am I the only one who wonders how Batman's identity remains a secret after this movie? He crashed his custom-made Batplane. Commissioner Gordon should be fired if he lets his CSI team investigate the wreckage and not track down a manufacturer.
And what about the scene where Bruce Wayne is trying to explain to Vicki Vale that he's Batman? Man, this scene is a sign of the times. Wayne tries to explain it to her by talking about personalities having different aspects, and sometimes it's almost like you have to lead another life to express yourself fully. If this scene was shot today, we would naturally assume that Bruce Wayne is gay. Instead, Vicki assumes that he is married. I guess, with Robin out of the picture, there is a little more leeway in that discussion.
Back to the story. Let's focus on that first scene, where Batman is introduced. I don't like that Batman, who has been strictly a non-killing vigilante since the 1940s, has been rumored to kill random thugs. Sure, it's just a rumor, but it still bugs me --- and I'm pretty sure he lets a few random thugs fall to their deaths in the chapel scene, too. Not cool, Bats. I also don't like that Batman lets a random street thug pull a gun on him, much less shoot him in the chest and knock him off his Batfeet. Maybe I just have a little more respect for Batman than most screenwriters, but I think Batman comes off as occasionally amateurish in this movie. I mean, he has the balls to dress up for Halloween every night and attack violent criminals; you would think he would be a smarter, tougher, meaner opponent than "you shot me, so now I'll scare you." Even this horribly written comic book panel grasps the Batman idea better than these screenwriters.
Despite the story weaknesses, this is still a fun movie to watch. I'll admit to nitpicking some of those problems; I just think Batman is an awesome character that deserves the best. Batman changed what we expected from comic book adaptations and has led to dozens of awesome (and some godawful) action movies since. It's cool, fun, and influential. Sure, it's a little silly, but what do you expect from a movie about a guy who dresses up like a rodent to fight crime?
On a closing note, I can't resist mentioning the Batman soundtrack, which was composed by Prince. I always giggle when I imagine how excited Warner Brothers was to have multi-platinum (and Warner Brothers property) Prince do the whole soundtrack...and then he turned in "Batdance." Seriously, what the hell was that?
I love me some Prince (he is The Man, after all...well, he's The Kid, anyway), but the success of this soundtrack astounds me. It topped the Billboard charts and had four legitimately successful singles, including "Batdance," which somehow became a Number One hit single. That has to be one of the dumbest hit singles of the 80s, and I know there is a lot of competition for that crown. The public did benefit from this soundtrack in two distinct ways. First and foremost, we got to see that Prince could be a convincing comic book character (nice hair). Second, "Batdance" was followed as a single by "Partyman," which means that the first two hit singles from this album were both over seven minutes long. I dare you to find another album that pulls that off. Prince is The Man!
You probably know this already, but the Academy Awards love Jack Nicholson. He has the most nominations (twelve) and is tied for the most wins (three) of any male actor. Five Easy Pieces was Nicholson's first film after his breakthrough supporting role in Easy Rider the year before, which also made it his highest-profile starring role to date. Back in 1970, Jack Nicholson was still an unknown quantity in Hollywood, so this was really a make-it-or-break-it film for him. Now, I normally enjoy critically acclaimed movies, but I have a bad history with 1970 cinema --- what is up with all of those abrupt endings? --- so, I wasn't sure just how much I would enjoy Jack Nicholson's first Oscar-nominated role for Best Actor.
Bobby Dupea (Jack Nicholson) is a rough-around-the-edges oil rig worker in California. He's got a chuckling hick (Billy "Green" Bush) for a best friend and a ditzy girlfriend, Rayette (Karen Black), but he doesn't quite fit in with them. Sure, he bowls and guzzles beer, but it all looks like he's slumming. He talks down to his friends and pyschologically dominates Rayette, often treating her like a child. While not necessarily important, those were some of the signs that Bobby was meant for something more than manual labor. One day, Bobby and his buddy come to work, still drunk from the night before. When they are sent home, they manage to get stuck in a traffic jam; looking for a cure for his boredom, Bobby sneaks into the bed of the truck ahead of his car in traffic and finds a piano. Bobby begins to play Chopin's Fantasy in F Minor, and gets so involved that he chooses to stay in the truck, rather than stop and go home. From this point on, we begin to learn more about Bobby, a classically trained pianist from a family of musicians who is estranged from his father. When he learns that his father has had two strokes and will probably die soon, Bobby decides to return home to Puget Sound and reluctantly agrees to bring Rayette with. After a road trip that was marred only by his choice to pick up obnoxious hitchhikers (Helena Kallaniotes and Toni Basil), Bobby drops Rayette off at a motel and comes home. There, he has to deal with the upbringing he has been rebelling against, the high society that he despises, and the civilized society that he still enjoys --- throw in women that he can actually talk to and has things in common with, and Bobby is at a major crossroads in his life.
This film focuses entirely on the character of Bobby Dupea, with little regard to typical plot construction or much of a dramatic arc. In fact, this character study is more of a detective story than anything else; what is this guy doing, slumming it with mouth-breathers? It turns out that Bobby doesn't know either, which makes the mystery somewhat anticlimactic. Despite, or perhaps because of, that ambiguity, Jack Nicholson's performance stands out as one of the more nuanced you're going to see in a movie. I often complain that characters in movies are one-dimensional or basic, but this is a complex, contradictory character, and Nicholson is amazing as he brings out all the little facets in Bobby's personality. This movie depends so heavily on this single character, and yet Nicholson goes out of his way to make the audience uncomfortable, being both drawn and repelled by his character. There are other memorable characters in the film, but they feel inconsequential next to Nicholson. Karen Black played the slavishly devoted and somewhat brain-dead Rayette with more passion than a ditzy role might demand, but her performance is good. Helena Kallaniotes was purposefully annoying as the obnoxious and butch half of the lesbian hitchhiking couple, with Toni "Hey Mickey" Basil spending most of her time being quiet and staring. Sally Struthers makes a brief appearance as a bowling alley slut, but it's nothing special. Lois Smith and Ralph Waite are socially awkward as Bobby's siblings, which fits in their home-schooled character history, but I didn't particularly care for either. Susan Anspach was pretty good as Bobby's sophisticated love interest, but I thought she was too reactive in her performance; sure Nicholson was an obvious force, but she could have tried to match his intensity.
Bob Rafelson (who directed and co-wrote the Monkees movie, Head, with Nicholson) directed and co-wrote Five Easy Pieces, which is nice --- I always like to know to to blame or praise for a movie. I didn't find Rafelson's camera work to be terribly interesting, but I will definitely argue that he can direct actors. The two most memorable scenes in the film are Jack Nicholson monologues (his quest for toast in the diner and the long-awaited talk with his father), but they are also surprisingly quiet scenes. The acting is pretty subdued and the camera doesn't miss a thing. You could argue that Rafelson just let Jack do his thing and filmed it, but there are a couple of moments where the director struts his stuff. The final, dialogue-free shot of the movie, which is zoomed-out and feels like it will never end, is a great end to this movie. When this movie ends, it is because there is really nothing left to say, as that last scene implies.
At the time this film came out, American cinema was undergoing a great change, and films were doing things they never did before --- the heroes were less heroic and more realistic, the endings weren't always happy and sometimes not really endings at all, and some of the most memorable characters of the decade were not nice characters. Five Easy Pieces was part of that renaissance, and Jack Nicholson's performance was also emblematic of that movement. The ambiguous ending, which I really liked, was also a sign of things to come in high-profile movies in the 70s. I understand the importance of this movie in the context of its time --- it was nominated for Best Picture, Director, Actor, Supporting Actress (Karen Black), and Original Screenplay Oscars --- but I think it has lost some punch over the years. Part of that is due to the film's innovative bits becoming somewhat commonplace over time, but it has more to do with Bobby's character than anything else.
It's difficult for me to articulate what I don't like about Bobby Dupea because his character never really explains just what his problem is. He's an underachiever, and proud of it, decades before Bart Simpson. He is proud of his life when amongst snooty upper-class socialites, but bored when he's home. He's talented, but indifferent about it. While Nicholson's performance is truly fantastic, Bobby Dupea comes across as a spoiled child in a man's body. I realize that the audience is not supposed to entirely identify with Bobby, but his character doesn't feel revolutionary any more; I admire the performance, but the character being performed is no longer a revelation. And, I'll admit it, I'm not a huge fan of movies that cater solely to one character, at the expense of a plot. Sure, it works sometimes, but unless some sort of artificial structure is imposed on the movie (like the Top Five lists in High Fidelity), I find my interest wavering by the end of the film. As much as I admire the artistry that went into making this movie, the story didn't appeal to me.
