Dreadful

Rating: Null/10 (23 June 2006)

The Shining begins with the camera gliding, twisting, and turning over winding roadways. The opening credits crawl up the screen not unlike closing credits during these aerial shots. And a dies irae, played on a synthesizer, oozes from the soundtrack.. At frame-one Kubrick inspires a feeling of dread, a feeling of uneasiness, and a sense that something is not quite right.
No, The Shining is not one of my favorite horror films; however, I have to give credit where it is due, and I have to acknowledge that the Shining accomplishes what it sets out to do: inspire dread.
I originally watched the Shining 15 years ago, and didn't care for it at the time. Upon revisiting the film I was surprised by how vividly I remembered the film (more vividly than the novel, I might add.) So kudos to Kubrick.
Then interestingly, Kubrick explores another meaning of the word "dreadful" with the dialogue in the following scenes  the interview. Painfully forced, obligatory, dare I say Hollywood-ish? I cringed watching Jack Nicholson put up a stilted performance complete with a phony grin as he assures his employers, "Five months of peace is just what I'm looking for." And the performance of all the other characters matches this same stilted tone.
Like a puppet show with Stanley pulling the strings.
Shelley Duvall stares into her past, making an uncomfortable recitation (that curiously lacks conviction) of the memory where Jack hurt little Danny once upon a time. In the end, I felt this neglect ultimately robs the film of some of the emotional attachment required to get the sense of tragedy  although Roger Ebert's perspective paints these stilted performances in a fascinating light in his Great Movie review series.
Then, strangely enough, as Jack descended the steps to insanity, his performance felt more natural, more believable, and I bought every second of his unprovoked hostility. Eventually leading back to that same adjective, "dreadful" in the sense that at any moment this man could snap as he sits with Danny for a painfully long period of time until the mounting suspense becomes unbearable.
The Kubrickian pacing syndrome where things happen (or don't happen) by Stanley's watch: as I described in the above paragraph (which is not a criticism, btw), the film is not afraid of pausing. Not afraid to linger. And not afraid to take its time, while the camera absorbs the hotel in such a way that it (rightly) becomes an ominous character in itself.
Having said that: the Overlook Hotel was Kubrick's playground, and he masterfully wove its vast depth, its space, and its symmetry into the very fabric of the film. The cinematography is simply marvelous, literally bombarding the audience with symmetrical shot after symmetrical shot compliments of the Overlook's architecture. The sensation is like watching a story told through a series of animated religious paintings. Symmetrical. Unnatural. Something isn't right.
Then the film moves outside for a sudden contrast in shot composition  the climax. Frequently reduced to a mere silhouette, Jack races through the creepy foggy atmosphere on the cold snowy landscape in an asymmetrical frame. Here we observe a contradiction of expectations - these exteriors in the bleak snowscape feel less empty and less isolated than the interior shots of the Overlook as if the hotel were a vacuum.
Unnatural.
Dreadful.