The Shining

The Shining
1980
Director: Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Jack Nicholson, Shelley Duvall, Danny Lloyd, Scatman Crothers

The Shining and I have a bit of a history. I haven’t seen it a billion and one times, but the few times I have committed to watching it all the way through have been memorable in one way or the other. The Shining is Stanley Kubrick’s take on what a horror movie is, and, because he’s Kubrick, he can’t help but put his own stamp all over the film. What results is an incredibly atmospheric and FUCKING SCARY movie.

But why? Because this is Kubrick playing with horror, interpreting horror in his own way, we get something that is relatively unique in its horror. We don’t have the typical trappings of terror in The Shining. Consider the very opening of the film, for instance. We open on gorgeous helicopter shots of the Rockies, gradually zooming in on a car driving through winding roads, and Wendy Carlos’ score starts playing, those plodding, synthetic tones, and holy shit, it’s already scary. Scary, with nothing but gorgeous helicopter shots of the wilderness and minimalistic music. This is not typical horror.

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb
1964
Director: Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Peter Sellers, Peter Sellers, Peter Sellers, George C. Scott, Sterling Hayden, Slim Pickens

In 1964, Hollywood produced two films about the threat of nuclear war. The country was in high paranoia, and there was constant fear about nuclear attack. One of these two films was a harrowing drama. The other was a satirical black comedy. Few people remember the drama (Fail Safe, starring Henry Fonda), but the satire, Dr. Strangelove, is still revered to this day.

An off-his-rocker general, General Jack Ripper (Hayden), issues the go codes for B-52 bombers to drop nuclear bombs on Russia and manages to convince his air force base that the US is under attack from the Russians. The US President, Merkin Muffley (Sellers), summons his heads of state to alert the Russians and call back the bombers, which works… except for one plane that doesn’t get the message. Sounds serious!

Practically the textbook definition of “Black Comedy,” this is a wickedly funny and shockingly scary film. Kubrick had the presence of mind to understand that the comedy was needed to help Americans swallow the bitter pill about the possibility of nuclear war. The laughs come at some of the most unexpected places, intercut with the seriousness of a nuclear war. A fantastically funny early sequence has George C. Scott’s character, General Turgidson, with his “secretary,” tanning herself in a bikini in their “office.” A commander calls him to tell him about the deployment of the bombs, but the secretary answers, and starts making purring noises at the commander on the other end of the phone as well. It’s so unexpected when she says, “This is his secretary,” and then later, “Oh hi, Freddy, how are you, baby?” Probably the last thing you’d expect to see in a movie about nuclear war.

A Clockwork Orange

A Clockwork Orange
1971
Director: Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Malcom McDowell, Patrick Magee

How do you describe a film like A Clockwork Orange?

"See, it's about this guy, and he's the head of this gang that goes around fighting and raping people, but then he gets caught and has to go to prison. Then he enters into this alternate rehab thing where he's more or less tortured and he pretends to be all reformed, but he's really not. And it's a comedy. I think."

My thoughts exactly.

The first time I saw A Clockwork Orange was my freshman year in college. A suite of boys at the end of my hall, whom I had befriended, convinced me that I needed to see it, so they sat me down one afternoon and we watched it. My friend turned to me after it ended and said, "What do you think?"

I chewed the question for a moment. "I don't know," I said. It was the first time that I realized that I honestly didn't know what I thought about the movie. I didn't know if I loved it or hated. It was all too much, too extreme, too insane, too over-the-edge.

Over the course of the next few days, the movie refused to leave my mind. I found myself thinking about it all hours of the day. It would pop in my head unannounced in the middle of a lecture, as the image of Alex at the milk bar infiltrated its way into my brain.

Three days had gone by since I had seen it. I finally walked up to my friend and said, "Ask me again." "What do you think?" he asked.

"I loved it," I said.