Room 237

Room 237 reminds me why my undergraduate education left me dissatisfied. I became an English major because I wanted to learn the nuts 'n bolts of what made great literature great. I wanted to learn about the craft. What I got, for the most part, were a lot of classes taught by would-be anthropologists or political theorists. They seemed more interested in trying to get me to parse George Eliot's ideology than figure out what it was that made her books great.

I went into Room 237, a documentary about The Shining, with the same hopes with which I'd enrolled as an English major. I wanted to learn some of the tricks of Kubrick's trade, discover how he created such a timelessly unsettling and horrifying motion picture. Instead, I got a bunch of people BS-ing about Kubrick's hidden conspiracy theorizing, his hidden messages about the Holocaust and the Indian Wars, and God knows what else.

I learned nothing. I learned nothing about why Kubrick chose to change key elements of Stephen King's novel in its transition to the screen. I learned nothing about why he plotted The Overlook's interior spaces as he did, or whether various impossibilities were oversights or techniques to disorient the viewer. I learned nothing about his choices in lighting, or framing, or music.

I just got a bunch of obsessives blathering about their pet interpretations for an hour and a half. I could have gotten that in any junior-level literature class in any state university in America.

Blah.

The Shining

There’s so much to love about The Shining that I don’t know where to begin.  This is the scariest ghost story ever put to film.  Its twin girls have become legendary.  “Here’s Johnny” brings Jack Nicholson, not Johnny Carson, to mind.  We remember Scatman Crothers not as a musician, but as a chef.

But there is one thing, one thing about which I hadn’t given much thought to prior to my last screening.  Musically, The Shining is extraordinary.  Yes, we all remember “Symphonie Fantastique” and the opening credits.  But think back to Jack and Danny in the bedroom, when Danny asks his father if he’d ever hurt him.  The music is another voice in the room, not just underlining the dialogue but mimicking, feeding off, building it into something more than two guys talking.  Or think about Wendy and the manuscript and the scampering strings like rats running up and down your spine.

So I wonder: is there a musical commentary track to The Shining out there somewhere?  I’d love to hear Gordon Stainforth, who edited preexisting music to replace the unsuccessful original score, walk me through his choices scene by scene, beat by beat.  His work is masterful, and I’d love to learn more about it.

Now that I think about it, I’m going to do a deep dive on The Shining.  I’m going to read what I can and watch whatever commentaries are out there and sink my teeth into this one.

It’s worth it, because The Shining isn’t just one of the best horror films ever made.  It’s the best, and it’s worth the effort.