Before I dig into the main subject, new label 2M1 Records will be releasing Andy Garfield’s music for Adam Green’s Frozen on CD in mid-December, followed later by a double-bill CD of Hatchet and Hatchet II.

I’ve uploaded a Q&A with the label’s co-owner George Fox at KQEK.com, plus a Q&A with Kritzerland’s Bruce Kimmel, who discusses the work of Albert Glasser, including music released by the label (Earth vs. the Spider, The Boy and the Pirates, Attack of the Puppet People) and music to come in the near future.

Now to the blather.

Today marks the midpoint between a pair of Stanley Kubrick films. Next Wednesday, the TIFF Bell Lightbox will inaugurate its exclusive engagement of 2001: A Space Odyssey with a two-hour lecture by the film’s effects whiz, Douglas Trumbull. The session begins at 7 p.m., December 8, and the film’s engagement will span December 9 – January 5 in 70mm.

(Trumbull will also conduct a two-hour lecture Thursday, December 9 at 8 p.m., contrasting Blade Runner with 2001: A Space Odyssey. Blade Runner, which will be preceded by Chris Marker’s short La Jetee, will be screened at 10:30 p.m. Yes, that’s 4.5 hours of your life. You might wish to inform your pinhead manager that you’ll be a tad late the next morning. If you just want to see the main movie, Blade Runner repeats Friday, December 10 at 11 p.m.)

I’ve never seen 2001 on the big screen, so this will be one dream screening I can scratch off my Wish List. I wonder if anyone will attend the film with minor substance enhancements, as MGM’s original poster campaign encouraged back in 1968. Note how the Star Child is just about to feel really, really fine.

I say midpoint because The Revue Cinema screened a 35mm print of The Shining (or ‘The Shining’ to those in the know) this past Sunday, which was followed by a roughly 40-minute Q&A with Steadicam inventor/operator Garrett Brown (who could be James Cameron’s long-gone twin brother).

This was part of a co-production between The Revue and the Canadian Society of Cinematographers, and the second in their Great Cinematography in Revue series. (Reportedly, the next one will be a screening of a certain serial killer film involving a septet of sinful killings.)

The print was quite vintage: there were heavy scratches around the reel changes, and the colour was sometimes veering into Floridian orange, but as Brown himself said, not many of the film prints from that era have survived because of the type of stock used at the time.

The sound (mono) was surprisingly clean, and even with the print flaws, it was a real treat to catch the film on the big screen in 1.85:1, and really get a sense of the fabulous roving camera movements.

Back in 1981 when Stephen King discussed the horror genre in his Danse Macabre, he spent a fair chunk of the narrative discussing why Kubrick bungled the film adaptation, mainly citing Kubrick’s incomprehension of what is horror, or at least the machinations of a good, scary film.
The making-of docs on Warner Home Video’s DVD and Blu-ray editions (where the film is presented is 5.1 Surround Sound) present a valid case in which Kubrick was perhaps feeling he ought to step in and make his own shock film, seeing how contemporaries and veterans were dabbling in horror, and ensuring filmgoers they were still relevant, skilled filmmakers.

Kubrick’s take on the King novel was to focus on psychological horror and maintain a sense of ambiguity instead of addressing all the ‘hamburger’ shocks in the book.

The 1997 TV miniseries, written by King and directed by Mick Garris, was more faithful to the book’s central crises of a family disintegrating due to secrets, and the father’s alcoholism. There were also ghosts, a haunted hotel, and killer topiary.

The 1980 film is more impressionistic. Gone are the hellish topiary creatures, ghosts have been reduced to a mere handful, and Kubrick throws in bits of visual weirdness now and then, like the bunny man apparently giving the caretaker a blowjob. (Come on: what the hell else is the furry dude/dudette up to?)

The script and performances focus on the psychological horror of the father’s abusive past (and his recidivistic potential), a clingy wife, and a child who’s best friend is a little kid named Tony, inhabiting his mouth when it’s safe, and scurrying down to the tummy when he needs to hide).

The child’s talking finger is still goofy – there’s no way around it – and the ending makes no sense. Neither does the giant elevator that floods blood into the hotel hallway. It’s a flawed film with coldly drawn characters and sterile dialogue scenes with wordage that’s precious in the first hour, if not slow.

And yet The Shining is never boring because it’s such an immersive experience. If the cinematography doesn’t grab you, the strange music and sound effects montages will. There’s also Jack Nicholson’s wired performance that Steven Spielberg describes as kabuki, which Kubrick extracted from the actor by beating out his energy through 70+ takes until all that remained were bits of extreme performance gestures – acting drawn from the creative fumes before total engine failure.

Spielberg concedes that after 20+ viewings, the film grew on him, and he’s embraced the ambiguous moments and finale; that’s a wholly subjective revision, but he is spot-on in describing the film as a thing you can’t stop watching. There’s something about the camera angles, the extended takes, the flash frames, the slow-motion blood, and the horror that’s created from measured pacing.

The camera tracking behind a 40 mpr Danny on his Big Wheel on and off carpets and down hallways is dizzying; Jack’s slow entrance into the bathroom where a naked, scissor-legged woman emerges from a bathtub is absolutely terrifying – and it’s just one long shot of slow movement set to a pulsing heartbeat and bass drone. Absolute simplicity where the director isn’t poking you in the eye with orchestral clamour, CGI shape-shifting effects, or attention-deficit editing.

The back-and-forth ax hits as Jack chops his way into the bedroom suite. And the snowy maze chase, where a father attempts to hack his son to bits.

In theatres, they apparently used a banal British variant (which is equally potent in spite of the annoying narration designed for stoopid peoples.) Note the inclusion of Saul Bass’ striking poster art.

Creepy, isn’t it?

The Shining isn’t a masterpiece, but a hypnotic audio-visual experience with affecting, memorable sequences. Kubrick may not have made a Hitchcockian impact by transforming a specific location – a shower – into a place of danger, but anytime one finds oneself in a maze of lengthy hallways, there’s a Click! in the brain, and you’re in Stanley’s world, scared by visual simplicity, eerie silence, and abstract sonic shocks.

Working with Kubrick, as well as his technical acumen/peculiarities, were central to the Q&A with cinematographer Garrett Brown, and the 40-minute Skype discussion showed Brown to be a very witty man, and perhaps that’s why he survived the film’s lengthy production schedule without losing his mind. Finding humour in a tough situation breaks the tension, although Brown knew his position was better than the actors – being told to ‘do it again’ before the breaking point.

In the next blog I’ll have a transcript featuring selections from the Q&A. The screening room’s hard brick tiles were too problematic for my voice recorder, so rather than post audio mush, I’ll have about 15-20 mins. worth of transcribed recollections and interaction with the respectful audience.

TIFF has been getting a lot of attention for the obvious boost in classic and culturally important film screenings and lectures, but there’s equally important work being done by other independent theatres, and professional associations.

The Shining screening and Q&A was a great afternoon, and I hope the next screening – which might be David Fincher’s Se7en, if the murmur I heard is correct – yields a bigger turnout, because they’re really fun.

- MRH
mondomark.blogspot.com