King or Kubrick? Classic horror story 'The Shining' in the spotlight

MAISY SHAW argues that despite its classic status, Kubrick’s film The Shining is duller than Stephen King’s book on which it is based

Sitting at my desk, blog ideas swimming through my head, I notice my collection of film stickers; Fight Club, Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Shining. My favourite films next to one I didn’t much enjoy. Why do I have it then? Because The Shining is still one of my favourite stories, and Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 adaptation is both visually and historically iconic, even if I don’t quite agree with his handling of it.

Many readers will agree that the book is almost always better than the film. Abby Robinson (2024) believes the new Netflix adaptation of David Nicholl’s One Day “lacks charm” and those intrigued should “just read the book”. For decades, popular novels, such as Stephen King’s 1977 book The Shining, get into the hands of exploitative directors who spin the original crux of the story. With cult followings for both the book and the film, they become two separate entities with different legacies.

Classic horror film status

Kubrick’s 1980 adaptation of King’s novel is arguably one of the most important and influential films in the horror genre, appearing on numerous Top Ten Horror lists such as Rotten Tomatoes, with its memorable imagery and hidden meanings (the blood-gushing elevators, creepy twins…). A large point of contention is the film’s loyalty to the source material as Bose (2022) acknowledges, and no one is a bigger critic of adaptations than the author themselves. Kubrick is a directing legend among cinema lovers, but not necessarily authors. Anthony Burgess distanced himself from both his novel A Clockwork Orange and Kubrick’s film after becoming tired of defending Kubrick’s work (International Anthony Burgess Foundation, 2024).

I’m not a ‘movie buff’ but to me, Kubrick’s film, from a plot perspective, is not that great once you’ve read King’s original novel. It’s obvious what he was going for – a psychotic father turns even madder in the isolation of a haunted hotel. But in agreement with King’s own critiques from an interview with Fleming (Deadline, 2016), Kubrick’s film is “like a big, beautiful Cadillac with no engine inside”. The film lacks the tragedy and overarching sadness of a tormented father succumbing to his weaknesses through the hotel’s temptation in King’s novel.

Jack's character in the book

The character of Jack is a personal gripe of mine. In the book, his internal struggles are clearer: his alcoholism, violence, and inability to take responsibility.  Yet he still cares for his family, especially Danny, often calling him the affectionate nickname ‘Doc’. We see Jack’s negatives from his reaction to putting the undead wasps in Danny’s room – he snaps at Wendy to “Shut the f**k up and kill them!” (King, 2011, p. 144) and is more interested in suing people than apologising for endangering his son, his alcoholism returning in the form of the repeated nervous tic of ‘wiping his lips’. However, his last real words to Danny before the hotel takes full possession demonstrate his true deep care for his child: “Remember how much I love you”. This gut-wrenching sorrow is non-existent in Kubrick’s film. Jack merely limps around the maze, grunting and yelling indiscernibly, never showing any characteristics other than that of a crazy murderer.

The book's creepy maze

For me, the film lacks any real horror. King’s novel was the first horror book I read that genuinely scared me, specifically the hedge animal scene which move towards Jack when he isn’t looking, anxiety and fear created as he can’t “look at all of them. Not all at once”. Compare this to the film’s hedge maze, which has its own brazen meanings regarding Jack’s descent into madness. I simply don’t find it scary. Jack’s final frozen form and dead, vacant stare is mildly horrifying but nothing that makes your skin crawl and heart drum faster like King’s descriptions of Danny being hunted down by an unknown threat in a kid’s playhouse: “The stealthy crackle of dead leaves as something came for him on its hands and knees”.

In his 2006 non-fiction work Danse Macabre, King details the three levels of fear he employs in his writing: terror, horror, and revulsion. All three levels are demonstrated in The Shining, with the discovery of a dead woman in the bath in 217 (or 237 for the film).

Three levels of fear

Terror, as King decrees, is the feeling of dread, the “unpleasant speculation” (King, 2006, p. 473), which is clear when Danny is standing outside Room 217 – “he was scared to come here”. His flitting anxiety and desire to go inside ramps up the fear of the unknown. Wendy’s promises to Danny that he will not go in signifies something important is inside, but the mysterious element is what ignites the fear.

Horror is coming face-to-face with a real threat and shows readers “something which is physically wrong”. This is observed when Danny sees the dead woman in the bath: “The woman in the tub had been dead for a long time”. The bluntness of this description is what makes it horror, the paralysing, winded feeling of witnessing something awful.

Revulsion is the ‘gag reflex’, the nauseating gross-out. The woman in the bath is “bloated and purple, her gas-filled belly rising […] like some fleshy island.” This description is truly disgusting, her decomposing body making the reader’s stomach churn. The film version holds up well; Jack discovers a beautiful woman in the bath and kisses her, only for her to melt into the horrifying, decaying creature like Danny discovers in the book.

The film's stunning cinematography

What I can praise the film for is its set design and cinematography. Kubrick’s film created one of the most iconic and memorable patterns in cinema history: the brown, orange and red Hick’s Hexagon carpet. The pattern works well with Kubrick’s classic ‘one-point perspective’ (NYFA, 2018) filming, helping lengthen the hotel’s hallways and creates an unnerving effect, adding to the sense of foreboding built throughout the film. The bathroom scene with the old caretaker-turned-ghostly-waiter Delbert Grady is also visually important. The stark red and white of the bathroom is uncanny, contrasting with the dim bar outside. The red connotes negative energy – evil, murder and temptation for Jack to fall back into his addiction, succumb to the hotel’s will and, as Grady suggests, ‘correct’ his family just like he did.  

Book Jack v film Jack

However, for me, overall, Kubrick’s version lacks the emotional core and humanisation of Jack that King’s original story contains. Book Jack is a good man made evil through the hotel’s volition, whereas film Jack is an evil man unmasked. Kubrick’s film is visually stunning and helped created significant pop culture moments, such as the iconic ‘Hereeeeeee’s Johnny!’. But without the tragedy, stakes, and actual horror of King’s book, the film fails to hit a level other than creepy thanks to the Jack Nicholson’s facial expressions and some mildly scary imagery.

Written by MAISY SHAW (BA Creative Writing and English Literature student, University of Chester, UK)