THE SHINING: 4K UHD Blu-ray (Warner Bros. 1980) Warner Home Video
Without reservation,
Stanley Kubrick is one of the true originals in the canon of the cinema arts.
The essence of Kubrick’s artistry is as elusive as the riddle of the Sphinx, as
mysterious as the unsolvable and infinite, and as strangely hypnotic as a handsome-crafted,
if thoroughly upsetting nightmare. Kubrick, who brought a keen photographic eye
to his projects, and, was not adverse to rewriting or even tossing out the
creative aegis of as prominent an author as say, Stephen King, to see his own
vision roaring to life up on that giant screen, and, in whom a queer kinetic
perversity oft’ revealed more sides to the human condition than was thought
possible, is a master storyteller, the likes of which the movies, arguably, will
never know again. Certainly, nothing like Kubrick has been experienced at the
movies since his passing in 1999, age 70. And while Kubrick’s movies remain an uneven
spate, in terms of popularity and prestige, no one can deny each is a startling
departure from not only the status quo of their time, but also anything Kubrick
himself had yet to achieve. Kubrick was always striving to outdo Kubrick. Since
he was already in a class apart, the probability of realizing something truly unexpected
was ostensibly preordained. Despite mixed reviews at the time, and Stephen King’s
denouncement of Kubrick’s re-imagining of his novel, The Shining (1980) endures
as an awe-inspiring horror classic; emotionally raw, terrifyingly brilliant,
and spooky beyond compare.
Like all of Kubrick’s
accomplishments, The Shining is his testimonial to the purity of the art
in film-craftsmanship. The Shining defies any textbook examination of
the horror genre, and virtually steers clear of every major stereotype to have
long-since afflicted horror movies as just a piss-poor excuse for much guts and
gore. Not that Kubrick’s vision of King’s novel is in any way sanitized. On the
contrary, it builds to its harrowing apex with an afflicted dread, given to
visions of twin sisters (Lisa and Louise Burns) brutally butchered in an
upstairs’ hallway, a ballroom attended by the ghost of a spooky bartender (Joe
Turkel) with piercing eyes and a killer’s smile, the horrid transformation of a
nude young woman (Lisa Beldham) into a filthy and rotting old hag (Billie
Gibson) and, most iconic of all - the sight of a thoroughly deranged Jack Nicholson
smashing through a wooden bathroom door with a fire-escape ax, wild-eyed in
his impromptu homage to The Tonight Show – “Here’s Johnny!” And Kubrick’s penultimate ‘big reveal’ - the
haunted past of the infamous ‘Overlook Hotel’ – complete with references to
homo-erotic fellatio in an upstairs’ guest bedroom, inserts of skeletal remains
in various cobwebbed stages of gruesome decay, and finally, the sight of an
elevator door, spewing its bloody contents in a flood-inducing gusher, are so
monumentally dream-like yet paralytic and terrifying, they instantly conjure to
mind much graver perversions in the mind’s eye than anything seen on the
screen.
The genius that was
Stanley Kubrick cannot be bottled, labeled or quantified with any great ease –
if at all. Most assuredly, it can never be duplicated. Part of Kubrick’s
greatness, if not all of his mystique, stems from the fact he was not only a
director, but also chiefly responsible for the totality of his movies as
screenwriter, producer, cinematographer, and editor. He toiled – usually in
secret – remaining untouched by edicts from studio bosses; the one exception,
arguably, 1960’s Spartacus, for which star/co-producer, Kirk Douglas had
both his say and his way with the final cut. Typically working from great
novels or short stories, Kubrick often subverted, distorted or re-conceptualized
even a best seller in purely cinematic terms; along the way, creating the
enveloping impression he had somehow strictly adhered to the source materials
while decidedly improving upon it. Delving into the historical epic, science/fiction,
horror and literary adaptations with an envious effortlessness, Kubrick brought
his own artistic sensibilities to bear, rather than heel, on the work itself. His
indelible visions have long since eclipsed their source materials. Hence, when
we think of The Shining today, King’s novel, and the rather idiotic TV
miniseries reboot from 1997 (far more faithful to the book, but far less engaging
too) all take the proverbial ‘backseat’ to Kubrick’s conjuring in this, the
definitively version, rewritten by the master’s own hand.
Perhaps most
astutely, Kubrick never professed to being an artist. He simply was one,
proving a maxim about genuine artistry – that it exists for its own sake, over
and over again: to impress, startle, inform and, most important of all –
entertain us with its unique and imaginative properties. Like the man, Kubrick’s career is not
altogether easy to summarize in a line or two, chiefly because Kubrick
endeavored never to create a template, either of himself or for himself and
others to deconstruct and follow. His approach to each movie was as a unique
entity, with its own set of criteria and challenges to be met, worked out,
conquered and manipulated by his formidable creative virtuosity. Arguably, Kubrick was never entirely
satisfied with what he created; his perfectionism proving costly gambles to the
ever-nervous studio execs who green lit his projects with giddy reluctance in
anticipation of the final product. Kubrick had the great good fortune to emerge
from the undertow of Hollywood’s homogenized collectivism at the tail end of
the ‘studio system’, often perceived as the death knell for true artists like
Orson Welles. Following the success of Spartacus, Kubrick would live,
breathe and operate his film-making empire, calling all the shots with
uncharacteristic autonomy from his home base; Childwickbury Manor in
Hertfordshire, England. As with all truly inspired men, controversy often
dogged Kubrick’s greatness; particularly after a series of crimes mimicking
those in A Clockwork Orange (1971) were erroneously blamed on the movie;
Kubrick, receiving death threats that temporarily forced him to go into a
self-imposed hibernation to avoid scrutiny.
In the U.K. the film was banned until long after Kubrick’s death, while
in the U.S. it received the dreaded ‘R’ rating.
Five years after
the fiscal implosion of his Barry Lyndon (1975), Kubrick was once again
preparing to shock and surprise even his most ardent fans with The Shining.
Justly regarded today as a masterpiece of modern horror, The Shining was
ill-received in its own time. In hindsight, it is easy to see why Stephen King threw
Kubrick’s movie under the proverbial bus, as it bore no earthly resemblance to what
he had written. In fact, Kubrick had re-conceived the novel from the ground up
– keeping only its most superficial aspects, while fleshing out his own much
darker cinematic touches. But who could blame Kubrick for improving so
maliciously upon an already malignant psycho-drama when what emerged from his
exculpatory address was ever nearer to what King had imagined in print? And far
from considering King’s book in need of ‘improvement’ – Kubrick had become
engrossed in reading it, while searching for new properties he hoped to transform
into his next big project. To suggest that Stanley Kubrick needed a real box
office bell-ringer after Barry Lyndon is not overstating the matter. The
critics’ harshest reactions had sincerely tarnished Kubrick’s reputation. So, The Shining, with its milieu of ‘horror’
– always good for business – appealed to Kubrick, mostly because of its frank
honesty regarding humanity at large. “There is something inherently wrong
with the human personality,” Kubrick mused, “There's an evil side to it.
One of the things that horror stories can do is to show us the archetypes of
the unconscious; we can see the dark side without having to confront it
directly.”
Searching for an
actor to typify this fractured human psyche, Kubrick found his kindred spirit
in Jack Nicholson who became Kubrick’s first choice for Jack Torrance after
briefly considering Robert De Niro, Robin Williams, and Harrison Ford. For the
role of Danny, Kubrick sent talent scouts, Leon and Kersti Vitali on a
nation-wide six-month tour, auditioning well over 5000 boys in Chicago, Denver,
and Cincinnati. As the boy’s mother, Kubrick’s interests fell to Shelley
Duvall, whose slight if oddly angular physicality appealed to him as a perfect
counterpoint to Nicholson’s more rounded features. As Kubrick was, by now, calling the shots, he
remained happily ensconced in England, working at EMI Elstree Studios on
gargantuan sets – the largest ever built there – modeled on the real Ahwahnee
Hotel in Yosemite National Park, as re-conceived by his production designer, Roy
Walker. Preparing to embark on principle photography, The Shining
incurred a terrible setback when roughly a third of its sets were destroyed in
a studio fire. Meanwhile, Kubrick selected Oregon’s Timberline Lodge as the
location for exteriors of the Overlook, sending Jan Harlan and a second-unit to
shoot various establishing shots. These also included all of the establishing aerial
shots, effortlessly gliding across the pristine natural preserve near Montana’s
Saint Mary Lake and Wild Goose Island in Glacier National Park. Miraculously,
the climactic chase through the snow where Jack attempts to murder Danny in the
hotel’s hedge maze were all shot indoors at Elstree.
The Shining had a protracted
production period, well over a year as principle photography was repeatedly
delayed by Kubrick's methodical planning, his daily alterations to the shooting
script, and Shelley Duvall’s chronic bickering, causing friction and adding so
much stress that, at one point, Duvall’s hair began to fall out. On the
flipside, Jack Nicholson, having grown accustom, if hardly comfortable with Kubrick’s
ever-changing itinerary and screenplay, elected to throw out the multiple
copies of the screenplay handed out nightly for him to memorize, acutely aware
that much – if not, in fact, all – of what was in them would likely be changed again
by the time he arrived on set to begin work the next morning. Instead, Nicholson
plied his actor’s craft to learn fresh lines in just minutes before Kubrick
assembled cast and crew to begin. The Shining was among the first major films
to heavily employ Garrett Brown’s newly developed Steadicam, a stabilizing
mount for the camera that liberated its operator while at the same time creating
a smooth glide to tracking shots without having to lay time-consuming dolly
track.
Diane Johnson
and Kubrick’s screenplay begins in earnest with a prologue. Danny Torrence has
just been startled by another nightmare. The child has an imaginary friend,
Tony, who hopes Danny’s father, Jack (Jack Nicholson) will not get the job of
winter custodian at the Overlook Hotel. Alas, as Tony advises, Jack has already
secured the position; despite being warned by the hotel’s manager, Ulman (Barry
Nelson) and his second in command, Watson (Barry Dennen) of a truly horrific
event that took place several years ago; the Overlook’s caretaker, having
suffered from cabin fever, turning on his wife and two young daughters,
murdering everyone with a pick ax before taking his own life. Jack, who has
already suffered a nervous breakdown, and, is taking a much-needed break from
teaching to launch into a new career as a writer, is not dissuaded from taking
the job. Telephoning his wife, Wendy (Duvall) with the good news, the Torrences
make their pilgrimage to the Overlook shortly thereafter, on the eve of the
hotel’s shutting down for the winter months. Cut off from all help and the
nearest town once the mountain pass fills with snow, Ulman and his manager,
Dick Hallorann (Scatman Crothers) assure the family they have absolutely
nothing to fear. The Overlook is a self-sustaining entity, packed with months
of food stuffs and other supplies, and requiring a caretaker, merely to oversee
its general maintenance until the start of the new season next year. While Ulman
takes Jack around for one last countdown of his responsibilities, Wendy and
Danny – whom Hallorann has nicknamed ‘Doc’ – are given a tour of the vast
kitchen at their disposal.
However, Danny
has already begun channeling the hotel’s ominous psychic energies, allowing him
to communicate with the dead. Inquiring about a specific suite – 237 – and its
former occupants and precisely why it so thoroughly frightens Hallorann. The
usually unnerved Halloran sternly advises Danny to forget about the room and ‘what
happened there’. Departing the hotel, along with the rest of the remaining
employees, the Torrence family are now left to settle into their new home. Soon however, Danny’s ‘abilities’ to ‘shine’ (or
communicate with the dead) begins to cast a reign of terror on the entire
household. Danny sees visions of the former caretaker’s twin daughters and
encounters an unlocked room with a long-ago dead guest rising from her bathtub.
Danny also has visions of buckets of blood spilling forth from the elevator
doors. At the same time, Jack reaches an impasse with his writing and begins to
take out his frustrations on Wendy. Jack’s hallucinations are disturbing to
Wendy. Arriving at the hotel’s gold ballroom, Jack encounters it full of party
guests dressed for a 1920’s dance, and asks the bartender, Lloyd (Joe Turkel)
for a stiff drink. Attended in the bathroom by Grady (Philip Stone), whom Jack
is quite unaware is the ghost of the former caretaker, Grady quietly informs
Jack he is the caretaker now. Actually, he has always been the caretaker. Hmmmm.
So, will history be repeated? Discovering Danny traumatized and with bruises on
his neck, and assuming the worst about her husband, Wendy confronts Jack, who
has since gone completely, and rather demonically insane. Protecting herself with a baseball bat, and
momentarily managing to knock Jack out, dragging his unconscious body into one
of the walk-in cold-storage freezers, Wendy hurries to their suite to attend
Danny. She finds the word, ‘Murder’ carved into the back of their bedroom door,
and is further disturbed by Danny’s bizarre catatonia; the child, vibrating
with fear, yet unable to speak.
By now,
Hallorann, whose mind is being channeled by Danny from his vacation home in
Florida, is gravely concerned for the family’s safety. Marking his return to
the hotel, Hallorann finds the snow deep, the front doors unlocked, and Jack,
waiting to ambush him with an axe. Jack, having thus been freed by Grady to
continue his rampage, takes the axe from Hallorann’s chest and storms upstairs
to confront Wendy, breaking down the bedroom door. Terrorized, Wendy locks herself
and Danny inside the bathroom, shoving her son through a small window to the
relative safety of the frigid outdoors. As Danny races through the hedge maze
adjacent the hotel, he is pursued by Jack. Wendy manages to escape downstairs,
discovering the hotel’s lobby, gold ballroom and several of its upstairs suites
haunted by the ghosts of guests who met with an untimely end at the Overlook.
Wendy also finds Hallorann’s dead body lying in the middle of the lobby, the
elevator doors at the end of the hall suddenly parting to reveal a tidal wave
of fresh blood. Discovering the snowcat – a large tractor used for emergency
purposes only – Wendy manages to start the vehicle before going in search of
her son. Danny, who has tricked Jack inside the hedge maze, finds his way out
and hurries to safety with Wendy; the two escaping in the snowcat, and leaving
Jack to freeze to death. In the final moments, we hear the haunting strains of
Al Bowlly’s 1934 romantic ballad, ‘Midnight, the Stars and You’ – that originally
compelled Jack into the gold ballroom to his ever-lasting detriment. The camera
slowly pans to a wall full of old framed photographs advertising the Overlook’s
illustrious past, zeroing in on a scene from 1941’s July 4th Ball,
with Jack depicted front and center, enjoying the company of many
pleasure-seeking guests; definitive proof, the spirits of the Overlook have
claimed another victim into their pantheon of fear.
The Shining is one of those
horror classics that has only ripened with age – Kubrick’s meticulous planning,
to have brought forth a perennially bone-chilling masterpiece. In its initial
cut, the original finale was to have depicted Wendy lying on a hospital bed, informed
by doctors that her husband’s frozen body could not be located anywhere on the
Overlook’s property. Kubrick liked this ending as it suggested the family’s
nightmare was quite possibly not yet at an end. The movie’s producers, however,
did not. And the picture, already considered too long, was repeatedly pruned to
get it down to a manageable girth. At 146 minutes, The Shining remains
one of the longest horror movies ever made. Better put, it is one of the genre’s
finest. Alas, the public did not initially take to The Shining as either
Kubrick or Warner Bros., the studio footing the bills, had hoped. Cut and
re-cut, the version eventually released for widespread distribution in 1980 was
decidedly not as Kubrick had intended. Nor, in any of its subsequent theatrical
permutations did The Shining prove a box office winner. While The
Shining made back its initial investment, its’ reputation as a certifiable
classic would take more than a few years to catch on. Viewed today, The
Shining is so completely 'special', made by a man of vision with
boundless imagination, one sincerely wonders how it could have been so
completely overlooked and marginalized by both the critics and the public in
1980. As Kubrick had gone way over time and budget on The Shining -
nearly 14 months, to have sincerely strained the patience of his backers, with
no box office windfall in sight, he now found it increasingly difficult to gain
financing for subsequent projects – a case of genius cut brief by monetary
shortsightedness. However, viewed today and away from the hype that dogged it
at the time, the suffrage incurred along the way has continued to pay off in handsome
dividends as The Shining is, irrefutably, peerless from start to finish.
If you have never seen it - you should. If you do not own it - you must. It is
as simple as that.
And now, Warner
Home Video bows a new 4K remaster of The Shining for its 40th
anniversary on UHD. Let us address the elephant(s) in the room. First, the
image is framed in 1.78:1, a standard re-sizing of the theatrically framed 1.85:1
for which WB catalog releases are well noted. Previous editions of The
Shining on home video have suffered the slings and arrows of being reformatted
in everything from 1.33:1 to 1.66:1 (the European standard ratio). Kubrick’s
archives reveal that the movie was shot to take full advantage of 1.85:1. So,
the 1.78:1 framing here represents a slightly zoomed-in image, the same as was
previously made available on the standard Blu-ray from 2007. Incidentally, the
Blu-ray included with this 4K release is not from 2007. Instead, Warner has remastered
and down-rezed the 4K scan for 1080p to accommodate those who have yet to
upgrade their home theater systems but would still like to take advantage of
the newer image quality. Second, the original mono mix is still MIA from this
4K re-issue. So, purists will have to lament and content themselves with a new
5.1 DTS audio in its stead. As for the rest, the results in native 4K are dynamite
to say the least. The standard Blu-ray from 2007 was impressive. But this 4K UHD
disc blows everything else out of the water in every imaginable way. This has
been sourced from a meticulously restored original camera negative with Dolby
Vision and HDR 10+ color-grading. This is easily one of the most film-like
presentations yet to emerge from the 4K format, derived from 35mm film stocks
properly archived, curated and supervised in the mastering process by Steven
Spielberg and Kubrick's long-time personal assistant, Leon Vitali. Prepare to
be utterly amazed by color density, clarity and fine details. The Overlook’s
cavernous, yet cozy interiors are more moodily magnificent than ever before,
the architectural elements in Roy Walker’s production design looking gorgeous.
As with other 4K
renderings of vintage movies, it’s the subtleties - always on the original
negative, yet absent from previous home video renderings - that gain our
attention here; nuances and transitions in color; the blue-lit heavy snowfall,
distinguished by gradations never before seen, while the pile on that geometric
carpet inside the hotel is clearly visible to the naked eye. Film grain is more pronounced – as it should
be. Film is not video, folks. We have spent far too long being flim-flamed by
previous video formats that have homogenized image quality so everything looks
as though it were tape-based. Film is its’ own creature. It has grain, lovingly
represented herein. Age-related artifacts are gone. The new 5.1 DTS audio is
impressive and lightyears ahead of Warner’s old LPCM 5.1 from 2007. The noticeable
improvement here is dialogue, given subtler depth than before. Wendy Carlos and
Rachel Elkind’s electronic music cues are presented with a little more sonic
oomph than they initially possessed. Extras on the 4K disc are confined to the
same 2007 audio commentary from Garrett Brown and Kubrick biographer, John Baxter.
The rest of the extras, also from 2007, are featured only on the standard
Blu-ray. These include the half-hour making of The Shining, another
featurette, just under 20-min. devoted to Kubrick’s vision for the movie, a
vintage making of that runs just a little over a half-hour, with an optional
commentary by Vivian Kubrick, and less than 10-minutes on Wendy Carlos’
contributions as the film’s composer. Bottom line: while it would have been prudent
of Warner to mark a 40th Anniversary with some new content here –
deleted scenes, especially, we can certainly applaud their efforts on this
remastering effort with minor caveats already addressed. The Shining in
UHD will surely not disappoint. Highly recommended, especially with Halloween
just around the corner.
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
5+
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
3
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